Winter is coming. Florida Keys winter that is. Loretta and I are so used to our “endless summers,” that we woke up and opened the sliding-glass porch doors, then ran back into the house. We were freezing cold. But the thermometer said 70. Brhhh! it’s cold outside!
Of course, the coming of winter means a lot to the fisherpersons of the Florida Keys. I guess it means a lot to all the Keys people. For instance, I saw my first hummingbird for the year sipping from blossoms on a firebush. And I heard different sounding songbirds signaling across the canal to each other.
The winds of change are upon us. Just look at the marine forecast or Windfinder. Forecasts of northeast and northwest winds are becoming more common. I’m located at the end of a long-unprotected stretch of canal. When the west wind blows, it funnels right down to the house. Opening the west facing sliding doors quickly causes newspapers and junk mail to propel off the edge of the dining room table and leave a cyclonic debris field into the hallway.
Another indicator that winter is here is that the house makes distinct winter-only sounds. Things that are not usually affected by the west wind cling and clang with the errant breezes, and something in the attic hums and vibrates, like the ghostly howl of hounds or wolves. I haven’t been able to find and fix it for 20 years. Oh well, maybe tomorrow.
Last week, I spent some time on the water and as the morning wore on, I could see the cold front moving in. A solid band of grey clouds stretched almost horizon to horizon. The westward edge of the clouds ended right over Marathon. Two waterspouts spun toward Earth simultaneously, then broke apart, falling silently to the water’s surface.
On the ride back to home I was tossed like a Caesar salad. As Joanie Island used to say from her hotdog cart, “It’s so windy, there’s white caps in the Marathon toilet bowls!” This was just another case of quickly moving weather sneaking up when you least expect it.
My fishing trip was ended prematurely. The fishing was slow, slow, slow. The tight chop was very uncomfortably bumping the boat against the anchor line, it suddenly turned colder, and heavy storm clouds were moving in. Fast. I had just enough yellowtails in the ice chest and called it a soggy day. But, I learned a lesson. I knew the weather had taken a turn. Winter storms are either soon to be here, or already here, and I’d better be prepared for the next six months.
The cooler temperatures reminded me that projects on the boat, and the house, are easier to handle without the withering temperatures and wilting humidity. I’ve already redone the way my outrigger lines connect to the gunnels of the EP-2. Instead of pulleys, crimps, bungees, and swivels, I now have a nylon cleat on the gunnel and a tail on the outrigger lines that I can adjust easily. That’s the way it’s done of my wealthier friends, bigger boats. Rock on – EP-2.
I’ve recently changed out the engine-monitoring gauge, replacing the old one that became unreadable after six years of service. I’ve also begun installing a new macerator pump that drains the water out my two flush-mounted cockpit fish boxes. The EP-2 is soon to be 28-years old. I’ve owned it since it was new. I replaced the original pump after 12 years. Ten years later, it burned out, and I never replaced it.
Finally, I’m sick of bailing water that accumulates after heavy storms. Better late than never, right? For most of that time, I’ve had younger, stronger fishing buddies who were willing and able to handle that task. I’m not impressed with the whole aging process, and I’m looking forward to pressing a button again, and not having to bail by hand.
I enjoy fixing and improving the EP-2. With the cool weather this past week, I found myself cleaning and repairing things on the boat. Most of the time I really enjoy the peace and serenity of wrenching and sanding, alone, and working at my own pace. Winter is coming and the EP-2 will be shipshape and ready to go.
For the next few months, after reviewing my not-so-up-to-date logbook and looking through Capt. Jim Sharpe’s book, mahi mahi should be chasing bait in the shallower waters off the Florida Keys. I’ve caught November mahi mahi in water as shallow as 30 feet that crashed my yellowtail chum slick and tore up my ultra-light fluorocarbon leaders and tiny hooks. Capt. Jim’s book reports mahi coming into water as shallow as 20 feet.
I visited the Keys regularly for 10 years before moving here full-time. I came here every year for Thanksgiving holiday and at first, was surprised when I found some of my biggest mahi mahi just on the outer side of the reef in November.
At the time, I stayed at the Breezy Palms, in Islamorada. After relocating to Marathon, I still look forward to Thanksgiving week, and fishing the Florida Keys.
And of course, life is good in the Florida Keys; life is very good in the Florida Keys.
C.J. Geotis is a life-long fisherman who followed his dream more than 20 years ago to live in the Florida Keys. His books, “Florida Keys Fish Stories,” and “Double-Edged Sword” are available at Amazon.com. He lives in Marathon with his wife Loretta and her Coca-Cola collection. His email is fishstoriescj@comcast.net.
