A few days ago, on a whim, I set out to Rays Canoe Hideaway on the Upper Manatee River to fish the night.
I didn't plan the trip - just brought a couple random, lightweight poles and my tackle box. I paddled out at about 9 p.m. into the darkness of the river under a half moon that cut cleanly down the face of the river.
The water was brackish, and mullet were crashing frequently about a mile down the river, so I took out a MirrOlure MirrOdine and flipped it around the mullet, hoping for an offer from a snook, redfish, or whatever was bold enough to go for the lure. The visibility was so limited, however, that I couldn't approximate the closeness of the shoreline as I cast. In turn, my MirrOdine snagged up high in a tree, and I was forced to cut it loose.
I paddled farther down the river, many times dipping my finger into the water and into to my mouth to determine its salinity. I wanted catfish. Freshwater catfish, of course, but I only had a couple options. (Remember, I didn't plan for this at all.)
The best option for catfish in my tackle box, I figured, was, unfortunately, a package of chunked squid. Catfish are not especially picky, and anything that a) stinks, and b) is edible, can get an offer from a catfish. So I tossed out the squid with a split shot, kicked back in my canoe, and stared at the stars. (It turns out, after talking to freshwater fishing charter captain "Doc" Lee, squid is pertty much the worst freshwater bait you can use.)
I found a position in which I could lean back with my arms extended on the gunwales, and at the same time, I positioned my paddle across the canoe behind my head for a backrest. I was fully extended, and I could have slept.
I simply drifted, and listened. I heard some sounds of hogs off the the meadows, a smattering of birds. I began to wonder, in my Zen-like state, what the river must have been in the 1920s, before the trees had been cleared out and the wild life was no doubt more vast. I floated along, like a gator, one with nature, now up the river on an outgoing tide.
No bites from catfish. And the darkness did not encourage me to want to re-tie with every break off or hook change. I just wanted to relax.
And there I was, in the middle of the night, immersed in the wild of the river. Next time, I'm gonna catch some fish, if it takes all night.
And next time I'll actually plan for it.