FishingFatGuys Outtakes

Fat Guys in Skinny Water

Marco Island and Key West-   August  9-16 2009

By Jason ( FFG #2)

“I've never been in a boat with a man in my life, that I didn't learn something”

-Bill Dance.

Marco Island

John and I decided to change things up a little for this year's annual summer tarpon trip. Before hitting the Keys on our usual quest for the “Silver King”, we decided to try fishing off Marco Island , on Florida 's West Coast – where prize redfish, snook and, yes, the elusive tarpon, lurk in the shallows.

Joining us for our first adventure in the “skinny water” of the Gulf of Mexico was Honorary Fat Guy Jason Matuzewski, a.k.a. TJ (as in “TJ Hooker,” a nickname that goes back to the days when we were driving the nuns crazy at our elementary school in northeastern Pennsylvania ).

Our guides on Marco Island were Al Keller and Wright Taylor, seasoned and savvy captains of the flat-bottom skiffs used to prowl the reeds and mangroves in the two-foot deep, crystal-clear shallows.

Fishing the flats may be as close to sharpshooting as an angler can get. The goal in the clear, shallow water is to spot a fish as it waits to feed, and then take careful aim with a saltwater fly rig. If your aim is off, or your touch is too heavy, you spook your quarry. Precise targeting earns a strike, and skilled setting of the hook can reward you with a satisfying “run,” even in just a couple of feet of water.

TJ mainly fishes the lakes around Scranton , PA , but he adjusted to the flats pretty quickly. Maybe the secret was his chanting. (In Bulgarian. Really. It's somehow strangely soothing.) In any event, his efforts were rewarded with a handsome redfish and a hefty snook.

Not to be outdone by our thinner companion, FFG #1 Jason and I landed our fair share of redfish and snook as well. Altogether, we landed roughly half a dozen 3-5 lb. redfish and about the same number of snook, the largest of which weighed in at around 5 lbs. We had a few tarpon sightings, but the Silver King slipped from our grasp. There has to be something to go back for next time, right?

In the evenings after our Marco Island fishing adventures, we savored a swim in the Gulf, with water temperatures above 90 degrees and cocktails handy at poolside, who needs a hot tub to relax?

Night one at Marco Island , we dined at the casual Snook Inn overlooking the Marco River , a popular playground for dolphins. The Inn 's “thatched hut” décor, extensive wine list, and ample choice of meat and seafood entrees (with special emphasis on fresh Gulf grouper) made for a delightful meal. See the Food page for a fuller description.

Our second, and final, dinner with Jason was at Captain Brien's Seafood and Raw Bar . This spot boasts the largest fresh seafood selection on Marco Island , and it offers a slightly broader wine selection than the Snook Inn. Captain Brien's also has its own comedy club, but there were laughs enough at our table as we reviewed our skinny-water adventures and prepared to see TJ off before heading to Key West for part two of our trip. Details of the meal are found on the Reviews page.

Mexican coffee back at the hotel bar was a perfect nightcap, and a fine finish to our first efforts at fishing the Gulf's skinny water.

Key West

Our guide Thursday and Friday was the outstanding Capt. Steve Impallomeni. He got us to where the bonefish were biting, and John and I landed 8 or 9 of them, weighing in at as much as 4 lbs. We also pulled in a good size bonnet shark.

The most dramatic fishing moment of the trip came when John hooked a tarpon and fought it for a good 5 to 6 minutes before it broke away. Angler error or bad luck? I'll keep my opinion to myself. Either way, we'll be back for the Silver King another time.

Friday started off as a slow fishing day, but things got more active as the day progressed. Capt. Steve wasn't the only sharp-eyed bonefish hunter in these waters. We saw several seven-to-eight foot lemon sharks cruising the flats to feed on bones. Those 200-300 lb. killing machines prowling water less than 2 feet deep were impressive indeed.

Saturday was stormy with heavy rain.  Fishing prospects were poor, so John and I tried an eco tour, including snorkeling and sea kayaking. That turned out to be not really a Fat Guys thing, so we decided to “go native.” When it rains in Key West , the locals head for a neighborhood watering hole. Who are we to argue with cold cocktails, good food, and lots of great company?

A dining highlight on Key West , and for this whole trip, was Louie's Backyard . The signature dish, Sautéed Key West Pink Shrimp with Bacon, Mushroom and Stoneground Grits, was impeccable, especially paired with a terrific Wild Hog Pinot Noir. (See details on the Food page?)

Our fishing adventures were over for this trip, but we stopped along the way back to Miami to visit Sandy Moret's Florida Keys Outfitters in Islamorada, which ESPN justly calls the “world's greatest saltwater fly shop.” Serious anglers pretty much have to stop in when visiting the Keys. Afterward, we popped next door to The Green Turtle Inn for a tasty meal.

As Fat Guys Executive Chef, I was also duty-bound to peruse the Green Turtle's impressive gourmet food and wine shop. If only there were more room in my carry-on.

As we flew back from yet another joyful Fat Guys trek, we were already looking forward to our next adventure in October.

View the slideshow

Tarpon, Tara , and Tall Tales

Marco Island Fl, October 14-18 2009  

By John (aka FFG #1)

“To capture the fish is not all of the fishing”

-Zane Grey

Our August trip to the “skinny water” of Florida 's Gulf coast was such a success that we returned barely two months later to take another shot at landing a tarpon, and to scout houses for consideration as Fat Guys HQ in Florida . As much as Jason and I love the landscaping and snow-removal business, it's never too soon to plan for life's second act.

We fished Thursday and Friday with Capt. Wright Taylor of Marco Island Fishing Charters (who also happens to be a real estate agent). Any day fishing the Gulf is a good day, but on this trip. Thursday was the standout.

Alternately using fly rods and spinning gear, we landed several nice redfish and snook, some as heavy as 8 lbs. Then the real action started.

We reached a flat where a school of tarpon was feeding. The powerful fish tumbled and rolled all around the boat as they chased baitfish. Excitement was in the air as surely as the “silver king” was in the water. Would we land our most desired quarry at last?

We had been working the waters for more than three hours when Jason hooked a big fish. His eyes grew huge with surprise as he strained to control more than 100 lbs of pure muscle stripping line from his reel.  The struggle was epic, even if it lasted only two or three minutes. The mighty tarpon – all five feet of him -- leapt from the water and landed on Jason's line, slicing its way to freedom.

Our nemesis escaped again! The woes of tarpon fishing in Florida .

We consoled ourselves over the tarpon's escape with a terrific dinner at Marco Island 's Tara Steak and Lobster House . Fantastic food, a world-class wine cellar, and a relaxed but elegant atmosphere made for a truly memorable meal. (See the review in the Food section for more on this fabulous dinner.)

Our real estate scouting mission was enjoyable. Stay tuned for more updates on plans for the Fat Guys Florida outpost, and on our quest for the wily tarpon.

View the slideshow

South Florida   Annual Winter Flats and Bass Trip: A Well-Deserved Break

February 25 - March 3, 2009

By John (aka FFG #1)

“So I have always been grateful to fish, happy with it as a part of my life, unable to explain its allure and unwilling, ever, to justify or apologize for it”

- -Nick Lyons

Even more than most trips, this one feels like a much-needed escape. Escape from a brutal winter, from a tough economy and, especially for Jason and me, an escape from the sorrows of our mom's recent passing. This is an opportunity to rest mind and soul and share in the simple yet utterly important bonds that guide the Fat Guys: Love of fishing and an unquenchable desire to continue “living like we're dying.”

Jason and I flew down together on Feb. 25, a day ahead of Joe, to lay groundwork for the trip. Since it happened to be my birthday, we used the occasion for our annual pilgrimage to the Dolphin Mall Bass Pro Shops to sample the latest fishing tackle and accessories. Neither of us left empty-handed. You can never really have too many fishing shirts, can you?

Lunchtime led us to a quaint Cuban place, Mojitos , in the mall's courtyard. Tasty margaritas and Florida sunshine made a perfect lead-in to delicious grilled meats, rice, beans and fried plantains. And all of that made a perfect-lead-in to the ultimate purpose of the trip – fishing. We'd made arrangements with a guide, Captain Jay, for a nighttime tarpon trip.

We setlled into the hotel, napped a bit, showered and changed, and headed out for pre-fishing dinner. The destination was the 11 th St. Diner in South Beach , which Jason had heard about on “Guy's Diners, Drive-ins and Dives” on the Food Network. The place seemed pretty ordinary, but it was crowded for a weeknight. We decided to keep in simple, and both of us went for the fresh fish sandwich, fries and a side of slaw. The food was hot, well-seasoned and very satisfying – at least until we got our checks. Oh Boy!! The amount due was just shy of $50! Now I understand why South beach is a playground for the rich! $50 fish sandwiches!

It'd be great if we could say things improved a lot after dinner, but the fishing wasn't going down any easier than overpriced diner fare. Aside from a few small jacks, and despite Captain Jay's valiant efforts at showing us many promising spots, the luck just wan't with us. No sign of tarpon at all. Ah well, the week was young.

Thursday

We picked Joe up at the airport and arrived just early enough for our noon appointment with Captain Jay to grab lunch at a no-name shack with freshest fish imaginable -- and the coldest beer. Everyone decide on the grouper sandwich with fries and a tall ‘Presidente,' cold and oh so good. This dive may never have been on TV, but it's the kind of place where fishermen can enjoy fresh ingredients, prepared simply, and talk about their passion!

Almost as soon as we get out on the water, we can see or fortunes have improved since last night. The bite is hot, a mix of jacks and snook are responding eagerly to pilchards rigged on live-bait hooks. For the next hour or so we each hook our fill. Nothing trophy size, or even particularly big -- just good friends sharing time on the water away from our daily struggles. Just what the doctor ordered!

We move on to a familiar fishing spot, one we've visited annually for the past three years – a canal that's been lucky for us, especially Jason: A few years back, while fishing this canal for tarpon, he landed a true trophy, a snook that weighed in at more than 25 lbs.

On this day, things are quiet as Jay starts chumming with some live pilchard, and then things heat up after about 10 minutes, the fish are everywhere! Casting live bait up current, tight to the sea wall, seemed to work best. Tonight, Joe ( FFG #3) has the hot hand and decisively outfishes everyone – which is not to say he didn't have his struggles with our hard-fighting quarry. One fish in particular ran him around the piling of a dock, which forced us to pull anchor and free this fish. It's easy to forget that this epic battle took place in the shadow of Florida 's largest city. Definitely “urban warfare at its best”.

At the end of the day, tired and satisfied, we decided against a major dinner outing and opted to “stay in” for a meal and cocktails at The Blue Lagoon Saloon at the Hilton Miami Airport .

Friday

Friday morning, we again met Captain Jay, this time to see what the flats of South Biscayne Bay had to offer. We headed 12-15 miles south of Miami , to the cuts and flats around Sands Key, in hopes of landing some deep water bone fish along the ocean flats, and maybe some Snook hanging around the mangroves. Alas, it was not to be. We try a few locations but snag only a few snapper and a barracuda or two. That's why it's called fishing, and not “catching”.

When we return to shore, we meet up with Miss Molly, Joe's lovely bride, who flew in to join us for a long weekend.

Dinner was at a favorite Fat Boys haunt, Texas de Brazil in Miami Beach . It's famous for its great steaks, but we also love it for its wine cellar, one of the finest in greater Miami . Our dinner and wine were fabulous as usual, and so were the company and entertainment: Friday nights, Texas de Brazil features Brazilian dancers. After dessert and coffee, it was back to the hotel for a good night's sleep and dreams of our next fishing venture, stalking permit off Key West .

Saturday

We'd get back out on the water Sunday. Saturday would be a day of travel to Key West , and more “civilized” activities. We headed out early for the trek from Miami to Key West , and postponed breakfast until we reached Key Largo and a spot we knew from past visits to the Keys. Doc's Diner is a no-frills place popular with natives and tourists alike. It's easy to see why locals have voted its coffee the best in the upper Keys, but what brought us back was its specialty, the mahi-mahi and egg breakfast. Grilled, blackened or fried, it's fantastic!

After breakfast, we continued down Route 1 to Islamorada and the Bass Pro shops Outdoor World . Joe and Miss Molly got a taste of the shopping they'd missed on Wednesday, and Jason and I forced ourselves to ogle more gear. After getting our fill of the store, it was time for our traditional martini at the Zane Grey Lounge , located right above the store. Sitting on the balcony in the warm sun, with pristine views of Gulf, it was easy to forget “real life” and give in to true relaxation.

On arrival in Key West , we check in to the Hilton Doubletree Grand Key Resort and double-check on our dinner reservations at The Dining Room at Little Palm Island Resort . This beachfront restaurant, on a small island accessible by a wooden ferry, or “motor yacht,” has a great reputation, and we were excited to try it.

We relaxed poolside for a bit, changed and headed to Duval Street and Mallory Square in downtown Key West , to stroll around and watch the sun set before catching the ferry. As we walked along the Square, I saw a henna tattoo shop and dared Joe to get one. To my surprise, he agreed – but of course only if I got one too. Several minutes later Joe and I emerged, admiring our “ink”. So what if it wasn't permanent?

The ferry ride and our table at Little Palm Island are gorgeous. The views of the stars and the sounds of the ocean were amazing. The menu was very good, but not quite as spectacular as I'd hoped. We all chose a fish entrées and started off with stone crab claws, a popular favorite. We paired the meal with a very good white wine from Argentina . The evening was a success overall, but Ms. Molly seemed to be coming down with the flu, so we hustled back on the ferry and suppressed the urge to party late in Key West. With a day of Permit fishing ahead of us Sunday, it made sense to rest up anyway.

Sunday

Jason decided he'd swap his fishing cap for his Executive Chef's hat on Sunday, and prowl Key West 's gourmet haunts rather than stalk permit, so Joe and I joined Captain Steve and headed for a flat just a few miles from the launch.

We motored into the shallows, rigged up our crab bait, and quickly ran into logistical difficulties.

Permit are a kind of ghostly-looking fish that are tough to spot, and a successful catch requires locating one visually and casting your bait precisely, close enough to entice but not close enough to spook the prey and send it running for cover in deeper waters. Tossing crab accurately for 20-30 yards is a challenge under the best of conditions, and we weren't to have the best of conditions on this day.

For starters, it seemed that Steve's skiff wasn't designed for maneuvering with a pair of Fat Guys as passengers. In addition, an outbound tide forced us to approach the fish from an angle that puts the sun right in our eyes, complicating the task of targeting our quarry. On top of it all, a strong cold front was working toward us; rain and possible thunderstorms were forecast. As Steve staked to skiff into position, time and the elements were as much our adversaries as the mighty permit.

Adding to the pressure was the fact that this fish, the only flats species I'd never caught, topped my wish list. Recognizing this, Joe offered me “first shot” when Steve, squinting from the skiff's raised poling platform, indicated where he'd seen some activity.

I took aim and fired. My bait fed out in slow-motion and splashed in the crystal aqua water about 10 feet to the left of target. The splash caught the attention of the fish, and I followed Steve's instructions. “Reel, reel, and reel… stop! Let it fall…” The fish lunged for my bait then got spooked and headed back to the coral head.

Moments later, Steve directed Joe to another location and had him cast. Joe's bait hit the water a bit short but directly in front of the fish, which charged and heedlessly gulped Joe's offering. His reel screamed as 100-150 yards of line peeled off in seconds. The fight was on!

Steve's voice took on a Zen-master calm he instructed Joe. “Steady pressure on the fish… Keep your rod high and let him run if he wants.” The permit and Joe faced off for 10-12 minutes, during which time Steve un-staked and started to give chase to this trophy of the flats. We saw a flash of color as Joe steadily gained line back and the prize inched closer. As Joe turned the fish one last time, its fight seemed to disappear, and I gently scooped it into the net: A healthy 10-12 pound permit. Hardly a giant (permit can exceed 30 pounds), but a more than worthy opponent. Any permit caught is potentially a once in a lifetime opportunity. A few quick photos and we slip the fish over the side and back into the water where he swims off to challenge someone else's skills another day – maybe even the Fat Guys once again!

We had drifted a distance from the coral heads and Steve poled along several of the channels in a bit deeper water. He poled over some of the prettiest flats I've ever seen, then pointed out a school of permit heading towards us from across the flat. Joe and I both loaded and fire our crabs at these fish. The sound of our baits hitting the water caused quite a disturbance. Several fish took a look at the offering but no takers on this pass. We play this cat and mouse game for the next hour or so seeing, casting and chasing after this school of fish.

When all is said and done Steve has advice which I will hold dear for as long as I fish the flats. “One to three feeding fish, or one or two fish holding on a structure are ideal to target. As for schooling fish, you know how it goes. There always seems to be a lawyer in the group.”

The weather was closing in, so we headed back in, and were ahead of the rain when we reached the harbor, where Steve had one last adventure in store. He idled up, tied off to a sailboat moored in the harbor, and gathered some leftover shrimp bait from the live well. He tossed a few shrimp over the side and - countdown: Three, two, one… Rocketing from the depths came tarpon! Tarpon ranging from 40-80 pounds, these fish reside in the harbor and and routinely accept handouts from Steve and his clients. We hand fed these wonderful creatures all we have, and they slowly disappear back into the depths.

Joe is grinning from ear to ear. What a day one permit caught and release, time spent with a good friend enjoyed the view from a pristine flat and hand feed tarpon. Who could ask for more? Sometimes it's better to lucky than good.

We rendezvoused with Jason and Ms. Molly and headed back to Miami , with plans for dinner at Monty's Stone Crab Seafood House and Raw Bar , a hangout in Coconut Grove that we visit just about every time we are in Miami . Ms Molly was feeling better but decided to skip dinner. The three of us sample the raw bar, but settle on meat for dinner. Skirt steak with traditional mojo and BBQ ribs are signature dishes. Make no mistake, Monty's is not fine dining but its appeal is its location, cold beer and good food served in a relaxing south Florida style. We don't linger over dinner, as we're tired and need to prepare for tomorrow's outing, fishing for bass in the Everglades .

Monday and Tuesday

We have been fishing with guides Tony and Bret for the past five years, chasing peacock bass in the canals and bass fishing in the Glades, so our arrival at their place in Holiday Isle is a kind of reunion. They've become friends, as well as advisors. They know the water, have always put us on fish and are a lot of fun to fish with. They understand the right mix of teaching and simply allowing us clients to have fun.

On Monday, Joe and Jason fished with Tony while I teamed up with Bret.We are going run about 10-12 miles from the launch and today the weather is downright cold for South Florida . Air temps were in the high 40's, chilly even for us northern boys.

We start trawling for the top-water bite, throwing ‘horny toad' bait. After an hour or so we decide to switch up and fish deeper and slower. The toad is generally awesome bait, but it just doesn't seem to be the ticket with these colder than normal temps. Bret ‘wacky rigs' a Senko and I start pitching it in and around the cover looking for my first fish of the day. Jason, Joe and Tony pass by, having taken a similar approach, except Joe has decided to toss a ‘fluke,' Texas-rigged. As the day progress both boats landed their fair share of bass. No true pigs but plenty of good chunks in the 2 plus range. After lunch we try our luck in a new location with much the same result good quantity but lacking just a bit in the quality.

Monday night we bade farewell to Joe and Ms. Molly, and we all crashed early.

Tuesday morning, Jason and I met up with Tony, who'd be piloting our lone boat for the day. Another day of low temperatures and rather listless fishing, but it was the last day of the trip, and a pleasure nonetheless. A highlight of the day turned out to be Sabor de Cuba , a Cuban eatery we found while dropping our gear off at UPS to ship back home. This gastronomic wonder, just two blocks from the hotel, had escaped our notice for years. The cubano sandwich is highly recommended, as is the fish ceviche. Enjoy!!

We flew home that evening, grateful for our time in Florida, the needed rest for body and mind, and opportunities to build memories, share friendship, enjoy natural beauty and, most importantly, to continue our quest for “living like we're dying.”

Preakness, Steaks.
Susquehanna Flats Spring Striper Trip May 2009

By John ( FFG #1)

“‘Oh it's a big one, he shouted, ‘I think it's a big one.' And when he finally reached down to lift the fish over the side, I could see that it was a big one, wet and silver scaled with great black stripes.”

– Charles Kuralt

Spring is upon us and the days seem to be running together. A long winter has just passed and now we are struggling to meet the demands of both client and company alike: Better, cheaper, faster! Whatever happened to the simpler times, when people cared about each other, about respect, and about fostering lasting relationships?

If I'm thinking thoughts like these, it must be time to go fishing.

Our destination this time is Baltimore , and our quarry is striped bass. Joe (aka FFG #3) is acting host. He has researched this trip, and promised to keep it low-tech after setting us up in 2008 with a guide who stalked stripers with elephant guns. That's a (slight) exaggeration, but Jason and I felt like technology made the odds less than fair on the last striper trip, and we like the sound of this year's approach: Casting for big fish in shallow water on light tackle.

As we reach downtown, reminders are everywhere that we coincidentally chose the weekend of the Preakness Stakes for our adventure. The horse race, the second leg of the Triple Crown, is held the third Saturday in May at Pimlico Race Course in Baltimore . When we arrived at the Hilton Baltimore , we were told the streets would be closing soon for a Preakness Parade. And we thought it was the Fat Guys welcoming committee.

We grabbed a cab before the parade and headed for Baltimore 's chic Federal Hill neighborhood, and a relatively new restaurant, the Bicycle Bistro . A slightly funky spot with a number of small dining rooms clustered around an open kitchen, the place is popular. Having forgotten about the Preakness crowds, we neglected to make a reservation, and that would have been a big problem if time and Jason hadn't been on our side: FFG #2 ensured the hostess we would finish our dinner before her guests arrived for their reservation, and we were quickly seated.

The menu was limited yet expansive and featured many local ingredients. The wine list was good but alas, there was no full bar service. (A Baltimore restaurant directory indicates that full bar service is now in place)

Two appetizers stood out: Joe's calamari was perfectly fried and seasoned with just enough hot pepper to “pop”. And my citrus scallop salad was a perfect combination of fresh micro greens, seared scallops and citrus vinaigrette. All the entrées were great, but again two stood out. Jason's flank steak special was cooked to perfection, and so tender his knife was unnecessary. Joe's snapper, braised with olives and tomatoes and and served wrapped in parchment. The presentation was elegantly simple, and the results were delicious. French-press coffee finished off the meal, but not the evening.

We walked back to the hotel, taking in the sights and sounds of Federal Hill and South Baltimore . There was too much to take in in one night, but we made a note to return to Cross Street Market , a multi-vendor marketplace for fresh meat, produce, and fish. We soon arrived at ‘ Howl at the Moon' , a bar featuring twin pianos whose players took turns doing audience requests. The players did a great job, and pulled off several songs which I would never have believed could be played solo. We stayed for a few rounds and headed back to the hotel to rest up for the morning's striper quest.

We met Captain Jerry in Havre de Grace Maryland, 45 minutes and a world or two away from downtown Baltimore . Jason and I were struck by the beauty and rural feel of the place. Captain Jerry fished from an older but extremely well kept Ranger with all the latest electronics and a roomy, stable fishing platform. As Jerry started trawling, Jason and I rigged our fly rods and Joe, who's fly-shy for some fundamental reason, started casting poppers. No more than two minutes passed before the first “fish on” from Joe. Smiling ear to ear, he caught a striper, an I caught some of his trash talk.

Jerry liked what he saw. Weather conditions were good for the top-water bite, cooler temps and limited sun this should be a great day. But did the fish realize this? Jason and I continued flycasting, but to no avail. We changed from subsurface to top water poppers, but still nothing. Eventually I picked up a spinning rod and started working a popper. By now Joe had hooked and released several fish and had just as many boils and follows. Soon I had my first blowup, and then netted a nice bass in the 10-12 lb. class. I handed off the rod to Jason who picked up right where I left off. Cast and retrieve, cast and retrieve finally a few feet from the boat a bass siezed his bait. This was by far the most aggressive strike of the day.

Jason reared back to set the hook and played the fish to the boat in no time.

Having each landing a striper, we tried a few more spots without luck before a small-craft advisory was issued. We all know things can get pretty hairy on the Chesapeake , so we called it a day and headed back to the dock. All and all it was a great experience and we eagerly await next season. With a bit of luck we'll be on this impressive waterway at the height of the ‘monster fish' run in mid-April.

Joe headed home to spend some time with his beautiful bride, Ms. Molly, before bring her out to meet us for dinner, and Jason and I took a nap and ventured back to Cross Street Market for some appetizers. A quick cab ride had us standing at the front door with mouth watering.

First stop, fresh steamed shrimp with ice cold beer. Delicious. Next up, sushi: the Maryland Crab Roll was a unique local delicacy. Jason and I looked at each other and read each other's minds. Should we stop? No way!

Fantastic-looking oysters were being shucked and served on ice just a few feet away. Let's go for it! A dozen of these delicious morsels, paired with another ice cold beer were a match made in heaven. After polishing off our snack we crossed the street to a cool Irish pub for one last beer to wait for Joe and Ms Molly.

They picked us up and we headed to Pazo for tapas. This would be one food-filled night. We arrived early and funneled into the packed bar , where I perused the extensive wine list. It offered a broad selection but understandably favored Spanish wines. Hey, when in Spain do as the Spaniards do. We sampled Tempranillo, Grenache and Rioja -- all interesting alternatives to our normal varietals.

At the table, Jason ordered a few bottles of the house red and white to pair with the tasting menu. The menu consisted of pizza, Kobe beef, empanadas and grilled chorizo sausage. The portions were perfect after our food fest at the Cross Street Market and we savored every bite. After desert and coffee a short ride back to the hotel allowed for much needed sleep. It had been a long, deeply satisfying day.

The following morning we headed home, having missed the Preakness altogether, but ready to race back for another opportunity to fish the Chesapeake and sample all Maryland has to offer!

Susquehanna Flats - 05/2009

Smallmouths and Big Thrills

Upper Connecticut River   ,   Windsor   Vermont   June 26, 2009   :

“Whenever you're casting, the idea is to fall into a hypnotic rhythm, so that you and the rod become one – so that thinking becomes impossible.”

— Bill Barich

For the past week ABC Evening News has been running a series titled ‘The New Normal'. It concerns how our views of the world have changed drastically over the last decade or so. Anybody with a mortgage, a 401k or a loved one serving overseas understands that this is not the same world our grandparents lived in. Why have we allowed ourselves to get into this ‘god-awful' mess? Mind numbing for sure. With greater minds than mine attempting to resolve the situation, I figure what better time to go fishin'!

Today's jaunt is a day trip, a 2 ½-hour-drive north on Interstate 91 to the Windsor Vermont area, where we will seek smallmouth bass on the Connecticut River. Jason and I were the only Fat Guys present. Joe had headed to Western Pennsylvania to visit family and spend some time fishing Lake Erie for largemouths.

Our guide John fishes from a drift boat and offers a very special and unique BBQ lunch, which he prepares shoreside for his guests. This is no humble picnic: John is a graduate of the Culinary Institute of America, and his spreads are sumptuous indeed. But I'm getting ahead of myself…

We arrived at the launch just before 9:00 a.m. and, after introductions and some small talk we strung our rods and each selected the fly, or ‘bug,' we'd start off with in our quest for smallmouth bass. John recommended a pattern known as the “Dahlberg Diver,” an odd-looking cross between a popper and who knows what -- but very effective for hooking smallies' on the river.

Once geared up we shoved off and John maneuvered the boat to a point where a small tributary flows into the main body of the Connecticut. We started to work our bugs in hope of hearing the distinctive sound of a smallmouth leaping on a top water bait. Our guide watched closely, and I realized he was studying our skills with the fly rod so that he'd know how best to position the boat to our advantage. Once he was confident he didn't have newbies onboard, it was time to head for more productive water downstream.

For the next 2-3 hours we plugged away, cast after cast, attracting occasional looks from wary fish, but no takers. The skies began to darken. We pushed on and as lunchtime approached, so did the weather. First thunder, then lighting, and finally a driving rain. We all donned rain gear and made a beeline for shore to wait out the thunder and lighting.

A short time later we resumed our trip. The noisy stuff had lifted, but it was still pouring. John recommended postpone our shore lunch and switching it to a dinner. We all agreed and continued on. It stopped raining but the fish were not cooperating. So far, Jason and I have hooked only one fish each, on a crawfish pattern, and neither of us succeeded in landing our quarry. Then the skies cleared and the sun showed itself. Maybe, just maybe, our luck was about to change

As I leaned back to cast I glanced up, and perched on a branch some 20 feet above the river was a mature bald eagle, drying his feather in the warming sun. This was the closest Jason and I have ever been to such a magnificent creature. This truly was a highlight to this trip. On a day of unspectacular fishing, a spectacular sight such as this can be just as memorable catching a trophy fish.

Our eagle, having rested, took flight and soared away over the treetops.

We were near the end of our float, but John has one last spot of very ‘fishy' looking water to try. We approached and I immediately noticed a submerged log. For some reason, most of today's fish had sheltered in some type of wood structure. I cast my ‘bug' and started to chug it across the water. I let it pause momentarily and out of nowhere a fish rocketed toward my bait. The strike, unfolding in what felt like slow motion, is a great memory I will carry for the rest of my life.

Next thing I remember, I was hooked up with a good fish and Captain John was ranting and raving “Control Method! Control Method!” to a point where Jason and I thought he might blow a blood vessel. I managed to do everything wrong fighting and playing the fish, but I still managed to get it boat side. After a quick picture, we released the bronze beauty to the river.

As Captain John piloted the boat across the river to our final destination, calm came over us. Today we had experienced nature at its best and worst, and we'd made memories to last a lifetime. We'd also worked up a mighty appetite, and were looking forward to John's BBQ dinner.

And what a feast it was! Rib eye steaks, salmon filets, shrimp cocktail, aged Vermont cheddar and assorted crackers and fresh fruit. The list goes on and on and my mouth is watering as I write this.

John's passion for cooking is matched only by his love for the river he has called home for the last 25 years. This stretch of the Connecticut River is a tranquil, laid-back retreat just waiting to share its secrets with the lucky few whom venture out and fish her waters.

Vermont - 06/2009

South Florida Fishing Adventure August 9-16, 2009 Marcos Island and Key West :

Fat-guys #1 and #2 are preparing feverishly for their upcoming trip to south Florida . This trip will mark a first for the group as they will be stopping on the West Coast and trying their skill at fishing for some ‘skinny water' Snook, Tarpon and Redfish. After couple three days the Fat-Guys will travel south and try the lucky on the flats off Key West . Rest assured there will critiques of food and wine along the way as well as some fish stories….