It has been four weeks since my last red fishing trip to Georgetown, and there was some concern as to how the recent hurricane and all the freshwater would affect the bite. On top of that, a cold front passed through on the night before, which often causes fish to stop eating.
Nonetheless, we had planned to fish and would not be deterred by the wind. I stayed with Howard Carr at his beach house Friday night and met his Citadel classmates, Thomas Fassuliotis and Tim Corley, who were fishing with us the next day.
We woke Saturday morning stopping briefly at the Ice House, as is customary for our saltwater fishing trips, after which we launched the boat and were cruising down river before sunrise. The wind was sharp and cool, causing my eyes to tear up as we sped along to our first spot.
We started fishing in the grass and had no luck, but enjoyed a colorful October sunrise. The slow fishing grew boring so we moved into the mouth of the inlet and set anchor by a foam line where two currents met. We used live blue crabs and full grown mullet as bait, which should be enough to last the day.
The four rods were rigged with the Owen Lupton Rig, with less than 6 inches of leader between the hook and sinker. This rig was designed to prevent fish from swallowing the hook, making the release easier on the fish.
Each hook was baited and pitched in different directions off the stern. I had not had the chance to speak before we heard bumping sounds on the starboard side. The rod was bowed over and shaking as the bull red fish tried to pull it loose. Tim quickly seized the rod, and began his long struggle to land the beast. Bull reds have amazing strength and surge away from the boat time and time again. When they tire, the fish leverages the current until they regain the strength to pull again. Theres no stopping a bull when it surges away from the boat. The angler grips the rod and waits for his chance to gain line.
We watched and I noticed a line from another rod wrapping around the bow. Thinking that Tim’s fish had caused the mess, I went to untangle the line when it cinched tight around my face. A second red fin broke the surface almost 50 yards out and I realized I was in a pickle. I tried to hold the line off my face as Howard took the rod and untangled me. Once we were untangled, Howard and Tim lifted both of their bull reds into the boat. Tim claimed that the day was already a success, when suddenly, another rod started jolting in the rod holder. The drag was zipping out and Thomas took hold and fought the bull.
The wind was howling and the inlet was choppy, which caused us to stumble around as we fought our fish. One swell was almost enough for the boat to surf on, and we grabbed the rod holders trying not to fall.
The bite was on fire, and each red fish was over 36 inches long, many exceeded 40 inches. Tim landed one bull that was so large, he had to practically bear-hug it in order to get a picture.
Grabbing the fish and wrestling it into the boat is just as much fun as fighting them on the rod and reel. Once the red fish is exhausted beside the boat, another person has to grab the fish by the leader and the tail. Whoever ends up lifting the fish into the boat had better have a good back, and a death grip around the bull’s tail.
Properly releasing a red fish is another important part of handling a catch. These giant Bulls are too big to keep, and must be released properly in order to ensure their survival. The fish gives everything he’s got in fighting, and are often too exhausted to swim off on their own. I like to hold the fish beside the boat, allowing water to flow through his gills. The giant bull rests in your hands until he is ready to swim. With a kick of his tail, the bull disappears into the murky water.
Things slowed down at one point and we decided to check our hooks. Each hook was bare, and Thomas said that we were fishing on credit. We ended up catching 16 bulls through the course of the morning and had to quit, only because we ran out of bait. The inshore fishing was slow, and we ended up in the marsh, making sandwiches, and listening to The Citadel beating Wofford on the radio. That is better than any song!
