Runoff from rainfall clouds offshore fishing even after the storms subside.
Heavy rainfall can have a negative impact on offshore fishing in South Florida—but not in the way you might think.
And the aftermath of heavy rain combined with southerly current compounds the negativity.
South from Haulover Inlet, we saw nothing but pea-green water everywhere. Normally at this time of year, the sailfishing would be best from the Miami sea buoy north to Haulover. But every floodgate in the region likely was open, dumping millions of gallons of fresh water into Biscayne Bay and the ocean. So we kept pushing south, hoping to escape the murk and find a hard, blue, northerly current edge.
Past Fowey Light, there still was no sign of a color change, and the current was trickling south. At 160 feet deep, the water looked like pea soup.
We finally stopped north of the monument buoy.
“The water is cleaner but not much,” he said. “It’s usually cleaner here because it’s farther from the land run-off.”
We put up two kites, stringing three baits off each kite line—a goggle eye for each long bait and threadfin herring for the shorts and middles. Baits were bridled to circle hooks.
About the time they finished deploying the kites, the wind switched from north to northeast and became gusty. He put out a large, parachute-like sea anchor on the bow to slow the drift.
For a long time, nothing happened. Then a man o’war bird hovered overhead and a wave of small flying fish skipped over the foamy wave tops. Suddenly a sailfish grabbed the right long bait but immediately came unhooked.
As if that weren’t enough disappointment, the gusty breeze tangled the two kite lines, He had to take down the entire set-up.
By late morning, seas were topping six feet outside the reef. But none of us was willing to give up without catching something.
He brought in the sea anchor and headed slowly northeast into the churning froth. Talk about mountain highs and valley lows.
But it turned out to be a good decision. At 340 feet deep, the water color went from olive drab to aqua; sooty terns dived and chirped, and a scattered line of sargassum persisted despite the breaking wave crests. The current flowed blessedly north.
“Outside the range of sailfish, but they can still be there,” He said. “There’s also other pelagics like wahoo and mahi.”
He put out the sea anchor and two kites, and not 10 minutes later we got our first bite on one of the long goggle eyes.
Joe was closest, so he grabbed the rod. In the distance, a sizeable bull jumped.
Then one of the shorter baits got hit, and I took that rod. None of us was really surprised to see that it held a distant cow.
Lombera and I fought our fish close enough for Him to gaff them. Both appeared to be in the 15-pound range. But before we could celebrate snatching victory from the jaws of defeat, the other long goggle eye was devoured by a second cow.
I guess we could have stayed out there and continued hammering the mahis, but the sea conditions were growing worse by the hour. Time to head back to Keystone Point Marina.
Panos was optimistic about his prospects after the floodwaters finish draining off.
“Sailfishing has been really good for this early in the year,” he said. “We were averaging five to eight fish a day before the rain. Hopefully, that’s an indication of a very good season.
Bud