"Wing and a Prayer"

Sometimes you just get a "sign" randomly that signals to you that you have to go soak a bait, and that's how this story begins. I was gassing up with what little cash I had available at a local gas station, when I saw it, the universal sign of METAL, and I knew I had to call Team Rebels newest metal contributor and spring into action ASAP.

 I called Cody and told him what had happened, and he agreed that we needed to act accordingly  by finding the closest water and rowing baits before the day was gone. So I packed up the gear and met Cody at his house and it was time to rock!

  Obviously, since I was low on the fossil fuels, we decided to throw all the gear into Codys rig and in no time we were finally beach bound in search of what would accept our stingray offering.

 We arrived with some favorable conditions for a change, and were anxious to put baits out to see what would come of it. However, the tide was not in our favor and there was seaweed starting to creep into the trough and our lines, but we were in too deep now to turn around.

 Hours passed as we conversed about who our favorite metal bands, and sang the praises of the band DOWN's guitar player Kirk Windstein and how cavemanish he is. That's when Codys 80 TTS began to light up. Cody has never spent much time shark fishing on the beaches for anything besides black-tips and spinners, but he has been committed since he Team Rebel induction to getting tight on something stout on the sand, and it appeared his chance had finally arrived.

 After about 4 pick ups and drops the spool finally was rolling steady, that's when I told Cody to "lock it down" and let the circle hook engage into the sharks mouth. Without hesitation Cody locked up and line started peeling off the reel, it felt like a decent one. Cody being new to this opted to sit in the sand instead of the more traditional Team Rebel harness while the fish was taking its initial run, and this one had a lot of heart!

The fight lasted about 15 minutes until I saw the JET BLACK dorsal pierce the water in the first trough. It was the unmistakeable sickle we saw cutting across the water all while it was executing some ferocious 180's as it tried to elude capture. However its attempts were futile, as I bum rushed the shark the first opportunity I had. In an instant, Cody had landed his first real beach shark.

  We took two pictures before the hook was cut and I was dragging the angry black hammer back to its watery home, but not before Cody was able to snap this cool picture.

  So far Cody has broken into the Team Rebel ranks while bringing it STRONG to whatever expedition we have embarked on, and if his luck keeps up, something big is lurking on the horizon...........

Until next time....

Team Rebel OUT!

"Red Dawn at the Water Hazard!"

    Sometimes, you need to just call in sick to work, fire up the car, and just drive until you feel like stopping, and see what might come your way. That is exactly what Brendon and his cousin Eddie did after they loaded up the assault vehicle and headed toward the sunset and the beautiful, less populated confines of the West coast of Florida in search of some much needed R & R. Right around sundown, they had the truck packed, and headed Southbound on I-95 toward the fabled Tamiami trail, to make the West-ward journey across the Southwestern portion of the Everglades.  This route is in no way the fastest or closest route to the other side of Florida, but when traveling the poorly maintained route through the Everglades, it allows you to encounter a wide array of angling opportunity's for a large variety of species (salt and fresh).

  Brendon made his way across the treachorous stretch of unincorporated roadway as the sun was getting ready to fall into the Western sky,which sends the signal out for the creatures of the night to arise from the bowels of the swamp, and converge on the still warm and seemingly endless stretch of asphalt extending West-ward. But it only took one short stop along a roadside ditch somewhere in the middle of the state to land a nice and healthy black water Snook, before the mosquitos became unbearable, forcing the back into the truck and realigning their focus to the trip at hand.

   They pushed on as darkness fell on the trail, thus giving them an opportunity to take in some of the unexpected sights and creatures you may encounter when traveling on the trail at after dusk. Kind of like this 8 foot alligator that was itching to become a speed bump for an unsuspecting traveler.

  After a semi-eventful trip across the state, Brendon and Eddie finally reached their hotel and checked in for the three day weekend ahead of them, and were finally able to sit down and try to figure out a game plan for the coming days.

   They were only able to manage just a few short hours of shut eye, Brendon arose in a daze to make a half hearted attempt to find the nearest Dunkin Donuts and indulge in his morning coffee and bagel. But on his journey through the light fog shortly after dawn, some explosions caught his eye coming from a private pond system on the edge of a neighborhood a few miles down the road from their Ft. Myers hotel. Brendon quickly pulled over to the side of the road to assess the situation, and to make an attempt to find the culprit behind the explosions he had saw just moments ago from the road. He sprung to action with a small zara spook he had on a light tackle rod that was still in the truck from the voyage over the night before, and after a couple of casts, an estimated 30lb tarpon opened its mouth beneath the spook, making the plug disappear into a small whirlpool before the fish launched itself toward the sky and popped his line.  High hopes and visions of silver raced though Brendons mond after the breif roadside encounter,so Brendon raced back to the hotel to wake his cousin, load up on tackle, and head back to the golf course water hazard to see if they could drum up any more luck. But when they arrived back at their new "honey hole", they did not know that this is where they would end up spending almost their entire vacation. Which the became clear once they saw finger mullet getting blown onto the banks of the lake in a full blown fresh water feeding frenzy.

 Brendon quickly sprang into action and began scooping the stranded finger mullet up off the grass laden shoreline with only his hands, and they quickly "released" the marooned baits back into the pond, with hardened steel sticking through their little mouths. It did not take long before both Brendon and Eddie were hooked upon a double, with species that they could not clearly identify, that is until both fish hit the bank after a short, vicious battle.

Cast, after cast, they began to bail abnormally large land-locked Mangrove Snapper onto the shoreline, with most of them being between 14 and 20 inches. They devoured every bait they tossed into the corner of the pond, until they had all been caught, or their bellies were full. But soon after the mangrove snapper destruction, another blitz of fish came barreling through, and began demolished the finger sized baits in the corner of the pond. This time it wasn't the nuclear sized snapper though, but another land-locked species was now moving in on the lame duck baits.

The day went on, and the blitzkreig of fish continued, with no signs of fading as the afternoon approached. They even began catching a new species every now and again.

As the sun began to fade over the Western horizon, the duo decided to pack it in for the night, and sample a little bit of the local night-life, but not before the redfish tally was up to around 10. However, that doesn't include the lone Snook, and the large number of prehistoric Mangrove Snapper which they captured throughout the day as well. But until the next day, it was time to tally up one more red, and kick back and relax for the night.

After sleeping through the morning bite, and trying to recover from the previous day/night, they headed back to the water hazard in an attempt to re-live the magic which they encountered the day before. It was not long before the two of them realized, that again, they would not be let down. Soon after the first baits were casted out towards the edge of the sawgrass, they began to land nice land-locked reds yet again.

   Again, they encountered hot redfish action, well after the sun had set, and their arms had gotten tired from the endless action they encountered throughout the afternoon. With the final tally for the afternoon ending up around 10 Redfish, they decided to again hit the town and return the next afternoon for their final attempt to land a few more quality fish, and to take one last crack at the Tarpon that had been eluding them for the previous two days.

  The final day began, fairly similar to how the previous day had began, with a very late start and then some fast action with some nice redfish. And again, they found that the redfish bite had never seemed to stopped from the previous two days.

But as the sun was fading on the day, and their departure time nearing, the two decided to fish a couple of more baits before they hit the road and headed back to the hustle and the bustle of the Southeastern coast of Florida, and ultimately back to reality. On Brendon's last bait, an eruption occurred on the adjacent shoreline, right where his mullet had been swimming freely, trying to avoid a confrontation with a predatory pond dweller. A silver bullet emerged from the water a split second after he drove the hook into the culprit, and the battle with the fish of the trip was finally on. Soon after a few massive and belligerent leaps across the pond, Brendon was finally able to land the first, and only tarpon of the trip. And after quick picture, the Tarpon was released to continue its reign as king of the pond.

 With their main adversary finally conquered, and the truck already packed, they hit the road and took the less distracting Alligator Ally back East while the reminisced about the success of their last second vacation. One of the perks about living in South Florida, is that you never know when you might stumble across some incredible angling opportunities, even if you are hundreds of miles from home, because you never know when you may be able to witness a Red Dawn in a water hazard on a fresh water golf course. 

Hurricane Irene - 2011 Expedition Report

 The word "hurricane" strikes fear instantly into most normal peoples hearts, but for other groups of thrill seekers (such as ourselves) bad weather or hurricanes provide endless opportunity's for miscellaneous and rather careless endeavors. And with the monstrosity of a storm which had been dubbed "Irene" passing just offshore of the South Florida coastline, there was no question that we were going to promptly mobilize the Team Rebel unit, and see what trouble we could get into, while most normal people were perched comfortably inside thier homes.

    The trip began as a solo mission after i had woke up to find that all our favorite Bass and Snook holes for bad weather were lacking the current that would normally be sending the freshwater bite into overdrive. So the corporate command decision was made to head toward the Deerfield Fishing pier to see if there was any signs of the impending mutton snapper bite that usually follows these large weather systems. But shortly after I had arrived at the end of the pier, a leviathan of a wave in excess of 20ft came crashing over the Eastern railing, which was enough of a scare for the city to immediately evacuate, and close the pier down. As I was loading the truck up and draw up a new battle plan, Tyler pulled into the lot, fresh off his long road trip back down from Connecticut. We shot the breeze and came up with a new plan, while we marveled at the humongous surf that the outer bands of Irene were creating along the coastline.

   We decided we were going to head over the the Inlet in Boca to see if anything was moving around in the mouth of the turbulant inlet, but were met with many similar sites from our previous location. But that didn't deter crazy Captain Al from doing what he does best.

 Random surfers and old salts watched as others brave the surf, and to wait for their own opportunity to move into the rather thin line-ups just off the beach.

 After we have had our fill of watching mother natures fury batter our coastline, we began to head West in search of a potential late afternoon Freshwater snook bite, but were met with heavy resistance from sporadic but violent rain bands from Irene's outer edge.

 We arrived at the spot late in the afternoon, and the driving rain had stopped just as quickly as it began. But we lacked a crucial piece of the puzzle required for snook fishing, the bait. So we quickly started moving up and down the canal, blanketing the canal with cast nets in search of what proved to be a very scarce bait source. Time was running out on our adventure, with no fish to show for our effort still, but with one throw of the net, two baits emerged from the depths. The first bait was a perfectly sized Mayan ciclid, and the other, well we weren't too sure what it was.

  One thing that has been constant over the years here in South Florida, is that when you fish in freshwater, you never know what you will catch, due to our tropical climate. Also, it always seems that some of the strangest creatures we encounter are during large storms, and one is always more interesting than the rest, thus making this little guy was the mystery creature of Hurricane Irene.

 Upon close inspection, we determined it was a mullet for sure, as it had the rounded head and mouth to compliment the distinct mullet dorsal fin, but the difference was that this mullet was gold and brown in color, with various faded broad, black stripes. After doing a little bit of research, it turns out that this is a species called a "Mountain Mullet". Its primary range is in the Caribbean, mainly Puerto Rico, but has been documented here in the United States before, but in 24 years of fishing here along with many of our friends, nobody has ever saw one. So we decided after a few quick pictures, to release it back into the freshwater canal we found it in.

  After our quick photo session with the "unknown mullet", I took our lone ciclid, and dropped it just a few feet from where I stood and into the flowing water. Within seconds of the bait making its descent, I felt the unmistakable "thump" of a snook at the other end of the line. I came tight with the fish laying just a couple of arms legnths under my feet, and the battle was on. And after a drawn out battle that took me in and out of trees and through a couple of rocks, I was able to put this beautiful freshwater snook on the bank for a couple of quick shots and a safe release.

 This was one of the more disappointing storms for us (fishing wise) but in the end it turned out to be a hell of an adventure anyways. That's the one of the perks about living in Florida, you never know what will you are going to see.

 Until next time.....Team Rebel out!

- Also, to anybody who is expecting a landfall from this monstrosity of a storm, be safe, be prepared, and we here at Team Rebel wish you the best! Goodluck, and see you all on the otherside.