History repeats itself on a particularly crazy fishing expedition

Even as hot as it as been, I absolutely love the summer months!

Always an early riser, I kind of take these hot days the way Puerto Ricans do. Back in the day when Sea Pines was starting developments all over, I was working in their sign shop routing wood signs that became the norm within the development.

Then one day I was approached and asked if I would like to live in Puerto Rico and help train a Puerto Rican staff on how to make wood signs for Sea Pines’ newest development, Palmas Del Mar.

Hey, I was around 19 years old, spoke Spanish and it didn’t take me but a few seconds to say “yes.”

What a year I had there. They paid me generously, gave me a car and a house with a caretaker. I was in hog heaven.

Getting back to the point about dealing with sizzling summer days. They taught me to start work early, take a mid-day siesta and head back out later in the day to work when it had cooled down.

Honestly, it’s the way to go. I always got my work done and avoided getting baked during the hottest part of the day.

With that said, this week has been a whirlwind for me. Scheduled to fish in the SC Governors Cup marlin tournament out of Edisto next week, I have been frantically rigging large lures and such each morning, then switching over to my computer and taking care of graphic design and advertising projects, followed by a one hour siesta, then back to more rigging or guiding folks on fishing excursions.

I tend to call it “controlled schizophrenia,” which if you have ever met me no doubt has you chuckling right now.

In the midst of all this, I think it was Tuesday that I guided George Norton, a good friend of mine that lives in Haig Point on Daufuskie Island, along with his two grandsons Bo and George.

Due to my crazy schedule, we didn’t leave the dock until 11:30 a.m. and our plan was to live bait for Spanish mackerel on light tackle. For whatever reason there is more bait around this year than I’ve seen in a decade. Massive schools of menhaden are everywhere and one toss of my cast net was all it took to get a net so full it took two of us to pull it on board.

With that accomplished, we headed toward the Hilton Head Tire Reef on flat calm seas and gently rolling swells.

Before I go on, back in the 60’s and 70’s my dad and I loved to fish for Spanish mackerel. Back then you didn’t have to go far before finding schools of Spanish tearing up the surface for as far as the eye could see. We often caught 100 or more in a two-hour period. But for years now, that scene has never repeated itself. What has happened to the Spanish? Over fishing maybe? I can still catch them, but it’s usually one here and one there, nothing like it was back then.

George, his grandsons and I were about half way to the Tire Reef when I saw terns and pelicans diving ahead of us. Slowing down, my jaw about hit the deck. There were schools of feeding Spanish mackerel absolutely everywhere.

As fish chased pods of glass minnows right beside the boat, showers of minnows would fly out of water as Spanish gorged themselves. The ocean was foaming with fish feeding for a solid mile or more. It was awesome! Casting spoons called “Sidewinders” on light spinning rods, we caught 50 - 60 fish in less than an hour and a half.

George, Sr. was having a blast and we only headed in when the youngin’s wore slap out. Being out-of-towners, I tried to tell them the significance of such and event but I think it fell on deaf ears.

For me, though, it was as if my dad was right beside me. I know he was watching and am certain he has a Cheshire cat smile to boot.

So you see, history does repeat itself and this time I was there to see it. Check out the photo that appeared in the very first edition of the Island Packet. How cool is that!