"The greatest things in life are free."
I like the principle behind the quote, but driving a couple dozen hours each way, picking up a speeding ticket, and being pushed to the point where muttering under your breath about the less-than-amicable personalities of certain fish becomes acceptable; these things don't seem to match the quotes intentions. Sure, the actual monetary expense of the trip may have been refreshingly limited, but the mental strain, and the addiction it fostered... Free isn't the word for it.
Explaining how to cast to, strip-set, and fight a Tarpon is not unlike trying to explain how to drive a stick shift. Which is why this adventure for me started the moment we pulled out of the driveway. Buffalo to the Lower Keys, a 2300 mile road trip, in two days with two drivers, is not particularly unreasonable but what made it interesting was stalling our vehicle several times. Mostly in the middle of the night. At highway speed. At least the several officers who witnessed one such stall were distracted by the accident to which they were responding.
Explaining tarpon fishing to someone who hasn't experienced it is an exercise in futility. The combination of a seemingly endless reserve of incredible strength, the bursts of speed, the acrobatic tail walks and leaps: its like an Olympics team wrapped up in a polished chrome exterior. The opening ceremonies aren't too shabby either: glints of tropical sunshine off the backs of strings of rolling tarpon, silence broken not only by the gulls but also by the sound of gulps of air into gaping maws and dorsals knifing through the waters surface. One can only hope that the clacking of armored gill plates and the following splash as a hooked tarpon leaps close to the boat will be added to the concerto. But that would require a hook point to find its bony target, and after finding it, to stay there. For long enough for hand to find leader, at least.
Bow time is a nerve-racking thing. So is getting a shot at a string of three hundred or so tarpon. When a six-foot-something, hyper masculine man is standing behind you on a platform- who professes to not be yelling directions but rather just making sure you can hear him- it is enough to make a grown man’s knees shake. And they did. It was an experience I was totally unprepared for.