Titusville, Florida – The sun was just starting to peek from the eastern horizon. The glow was turning the coal darkness into a brilliant red-and-blue sky. As my eyes adjusted to the changing colors of this legendary redfish habitat, the water hesitantly began to awake and stir.
The Mosquito Lagoon was slowly revealing itself to me for the first time.
This area of Florida is also known as the “Space Coast” because of its proximity to the John F. Kennedy Space Center, and I could see the NASA shuttle facilities from where I stood in the shallow water. It was a surreal scene as rising fish began leaving circular ripples everywhere around me. Larger wakes were being left in the shallower water on the edges of the mangroves. Waterfowl swooped down and spooked pods of baitfish at the surface. The shallow flat was alive. Before I knew it, fish all around me began blasting off.
“If you really want to get away from everyone in Mosquito Lagoon and get the ‘reds’ to yourself, you need a boat that can draft in skinny water – real skinny, like 4 inches,” said captain Don Hutson, my guide for the day.
We had just cut the engines after a 20-minute ride to a secluded section of the lagoon. To get to our final destination, Hutson had to get out of the boat and push his 18-foot flats skiff 100 yards in less than 3 inches of water. We were in the backcountry.
“Now it’s just a matter of finding them,” he said in between puffs from the stump of a short, fat cigar.
This was my first trip going after reds, and I had done my best to stack the odds in my favor. It certainly doesn’t hurt to get started in a place often referred to as the “Redfish Capital of the World.”
The mud was just above my ankles and the turtle grass rubbed against my shins. I looked over the area of shallow water that stretched at least a square mile with visibly varying depths and contours. The surface continued to erupt with aquatic and avian activity. I stripped out line from reel and began to slowly and quietly make my way across the mud flat with my rod in hand. This was more than just looking for redfish. We were hunting them.
Mullet and smaller baitfish continued to run havoc on the surface. The larger mullet either punched into the air or caused fluttering wakes on the otherwise calm water. It was nerve-wracking, because anytime I saw any type of distortion on the water, my heart jumped and I wanted to cast at it, thinking it was a redfish. A calm and even voice would inevitably sound from behind me.
“Nope. Just a mullet,” Don said. “When you see a red wake, you’ll know it.”
Captain Don was right.
It took me only 30 minutes to begin fine-tuning the identification process. I put out a short cast to some mildly nervous water and it was like someone had rolled a bowling ball through the flat. Boom! The torpedo-like wake let out at a speed that made me take note. I had heard that redfish were explosive, but this was the first time I had actually seen proof-positive with my own eyes.
As I continued walking the flat searching for the telltale sign of distortion on the surface, the wind remained dead calm and the sky was cloudless. One hundred yards behind me was another row of healthy mangroves, and behind them emanated the rhythmic sound of the Atlantic crashing on the beach. The sound of the ocean so close was strangely out of place on this calm, windless flat.
The water was off-color from all of the wind earlier in the week and only about 15 inches deep in most areas – much shallower in others. Captain Don seemed a little disappointed at the water clarity. He said that under normal conditions, we would be casting at visibly cruising reds while taking on nervous water and tailing fish. As the morning sun continued to rise, so did activity on the flat.
Soon enough, the water in front of me turned nervous and I put in a cast just ahead of it. I immediately started stripping the size 4 weedless fly. Whack! The red hit it but I missed him.
I kept cool and kept stripping. Whack! He hit it again, and I struck him the second time like I meant it. My line tightened to the strong fish and then cleared quickly. The red was onto the reel and taking line before I knew it. I palmed my spool and slowed the fish down and tried to work him in the opposite direction of the mangroves. As the fish got closer to me, he sprinted out again and again and my reel hissed. He took four or five runs and finally capitulated, and I brought in my first redfish.
After weeks of greedy anticipation and research, I was onto fish in less than 60 minutes. Mosquito Lagoon had quickly lived up to its reputation.
If you are interested in sight fishing a flats environment, but want to give it a try while staying within the borders of the United States, the Mosquito Lagoon and nearby Indian River Lagoon offer a great opportunity to do both. The two marine systems are located about a one-hour drive northeast of Orlando and make for a great day-trip getaway if you’re in the area, or a longer destination target if you have the time.
The natural environment is much less developed then you might expect. At times on the water, it reminded me of wade fishing for bonefish in some of the backcountry flats in the Bahamas. There are a number of talented guides who are willing to take you into remote reaches as well as a seemingly unlimited supply of do-it-yourself options.
The Mosquito and Indian River lagoons provide fly-anglers a massive opportunity to sight fish for redfish of all sizes.
Most of the fish I hooked were in the 4- to 8-pound range, but the giant bull reds in this area can weigh in at up to 40 pounds, depending on the season. I had a number of fish break me off during their runs when I made the mistake of trying to “put too much stick to them,” as they say in the Florida backcountry.
Whether you are looking for seclusion in the backcountry or the chance to wade and sight fish with easy-to-come-by access, the “Space Coast” is lined with bountiful possibilities. If you enjoy sight fishing to big, hard-charging fish that will put you into your backing, go ahead and launch yourself into the red zone.
Facts, figures
Where: Titusville, Fla. Flights to Orlando: $250 and up for roundtrip. One-hour car ride from Orlando.
Season: Year-round; high season for sight fishing to redfish: August-January; giant bull reds: July
Local guide service: Captain Don Hutson
Phone: 407-247-2407
Website:
Cost of guided trip: $400
Recommended gear: Eight or nine weight rods with a weight-forward floating saltwater line; order a Top Spot map for the “Mosquito Lagoon Area, N-219.”
Patterns: A variation of a bonefish slider that utilizes a weed guard – any type of crab or shrimp imitation. If the water is off-color, use a darker pattern. In clear water, use lighter patterns (white). Using a weed guard seemed to be a key for success.
Will Rice is freelance writer from Denver and can be reached at .
