Retired news anchor and fly-fisherman Tom Brokaw once wrote: “Is it my imagination, or are almost all stories about fly-fishing told in hushed tones in pristine settings where man and trout are engaged in a solitary test of wits that, whatever the outcome, has a deeper meaning than mere fishing?”
Pfft… I just wanted to catch some drag burners.
In truth, landing a tarpon, bonefish and permit in a single day hadn’t crossed my mind as I hopped aboard Capt. Anthony Solmo’s 24-foot Yellowfin bay boat. Targeting those glamour species was for deep-thinkers in skiffs with their long rods and large-arbor circular reels. I was in Key West to test Penn’s fourth-generation Battle spinning reels and fish with assistant product manager Skylar Pieper.
Then Solmo, of Got Em On Sportfishing, asked, “Why don’t we try to catch all three?” My eyes lit up. Solmo said it so casually to two anglers he’d never fished with before. Was it possible, maybe even easy? With his boat’s rod holders filled with Fenwick World Class rods, I knew we weren’t casting Tarpon Toads or Cockroaches. Maybe grand slams didn’t have to be the stuff of dreams or purists.
Tarpon In the City
After picking up some pinfish from a trap, Solmo dashed us across an open bay to a section of the Garrison Bight Channel, near the Army Special Forces Underwater Operations School. Northeast of us, a constellation of boats was spaced along an edge. The tarpon were thick this time of year in late May and early June. Everyone knows about the spring migratory fish and the paths they follow—but it doesn’t matter because the silver kings are hungry and willing.
Solmo positioned his bay boat into the current, locking us in place with his trolling motor. We each free-lined back a lively pinfish on 5000-size spinners. I used a silver-colored Battle IV DX model, different than the popular black and gold colors you see on most Penns. The DX stands for dealer exclusive, and only certain shops sell them. Tarpon rolled off the stern, waiting for our meals like caged animals.
“Have you ever caught a tarpon?” I asked Pieper.
“Nope,” he replied. “We don’t get nearly as many opportunities to target tarpon in South Carolina, where I live, like they have down here.” As if we were in a movie and the action sequence started, his drag began to roar. Then a tarpon of massive proportions struggled to free itself from the water.
“Of course, you had to hook a large one!” joked Solmo, his dark beard so thick, you could not see his neck. “This will be fun—get to the front of the boat.” We followed that tarpon around for 30 minutes. But the situation was like a dog dragging us on a leash. We were merely a nuisance, preventing that fish from getting somewhere.
With the giant swimming contently out of reach of the boat, Solmo said: “It could take hours to tire this fish out. These fish are built for long migrations; they’re just not going to give up. Why don’t we try to pop the fish off at the leader and go find some bonefish?” Everyone on board agreed. Pieper cranked down the drag to an absurd level and pulled the boat close to the fish, allowing Solmo to get a final touch of the leader before the tarpon blasted away.
Fishing the Gutter
We had high hopes at a nearby channel. Tarpon were rolling in the deep, but they ignored our appetizers, leaving us to battle barracudas. Solmo noticed a few bonefish scooting along a nearby flat. Positioned right on the edge of the shallows, we cast out small bucktail jigs tipped with shrimp or shrimp lures like the Savage Gear 3D Manic Shrimp. But the bonefish soon disappeared off the flat, along with the tide, leaving us holding our rods defeated.
That settled it. Our boat had a grand slam to catch, so we sprinted west toward the Marquesas. Along the way, we noticed another school of bones on a different shallow flat. This time, Pieper asked if we could get out and wade. There were no concerns about our reels, which incorporate Penn’s Hydro Armor technology, meaning waterproof seals are in all the important places.
Outside the boat, the water felt pleasant as we slogged with purpose to cut off the school. I made a hurried cast to some nearby movement, unsure of what it was. My shrimp landed hard, spooking different bonefish.
“That cast was right on the money,” Pieper said. “But I don’t think those fish were ready for a predator missile.” I laughed, only to be cut off by Solmo telling us he spotted two large permit working along the channel. I made a valiant effort to get my shrimp in front them, but neither one committed.
Shuffling back to the boat, Pieper noticed some antennae sticking out of a massive prop scar. We reached the sandy valley running through the grass flat to find the edges chock-full of lobsters.
The next place we stopped was a spot Solmo called “the Gutter.” Floating over a deepwater hole in Boca Grande Channel, the surface waters were still, allowing us to peer far into the aquarium. “There’s been a school of permit hanging around here this past week,” Solmo explained. “We’ll spot them if they’re around.” Looking down into the water, massive schools of lookdowns, chubs and snapper were everywhere. Pieper pointed out a massive snook on the bottom encircled by baitfish. Three goliath grouper hung camouflaged among the corals and sea fans.
A school of palometa confused us for a second, tricking us into thinking we found permit. Then Solmo did spot the permit, their black fins piercing the surface. We trolled just a bit closer to find hundreds of them, all packed together. Pieper cast a live crab toward the edge of the school, let it sink, and felt a strike. The fish fought hard on light tackle, but soon tired near the boat. Pieper had a new species for his list. Solmo double-checked to make sure no goliaths or ’cudas were around and released the permit, hoping we could catch a few more fish out of the school. But the school broke apart, and we were never able to find them again.
Near and Far
With plenty of time before the day ended, we continued west toward different shipwrecks scattered off the Marquesas. “This time of year, spawning permit school together at many of these wrecks,” Solmo said. “It’s just a matter of finding which ones.”
And he wasn’t kidding. The first two wrecks were taken over with jack crevalle, yellow jacks and snapper. But no permit. Then we hit the jackpot with an old Coast Guard cutter. Solmo glided up to it slowly, explaining these fish would be positioned near the submerged bow. They appeared in an instant. I had the crab ready, cast out the bait on my 20-pound spinner, and hooked up in seconds. The fish headed for the wreck with the rest of the school, but my drag did its job. Solmo positioned our bay boat away from the wreck, and soon I had my permit in hand.
Now it was time to find that bonefish, so we ran back toward the city. Along the way, there were tarpon-stalking boats here and there set up along nearly endless flats. We stopped at an ordinary-looking flat not too far from where the day started. “If these bonefish are here, we’ll know pretty quickly,” Solmo said. “Let me throw out some cut shrimp to see if they’re around.”
We were ready with lightweight bucktails tipped with shrimp as he lightly chummed. Pieper was up first because he never caught a bonefish. Soon Solmo’s excited voice called out: “OK, there is one in front of us. Cast about 10 o’clock.” I was looking at the exact spot he told Pieper to cast, but I didn’t see a darn thing. And I’m used to sight-fishing reds. Pieper made the cast, let it fall, and then started reeling slowly. He didn’t hook up on that first cast, but he did a couple of casts later. Following Solmo’s directions from the tower, you had a chance.
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Pieper’s bonefish didn’t set any records, but it was his first, and he was absolutely thrilled. He wet his hands, landed the fish quickly, and released it after a photo. I followed up Pieper’s cast and catch with a similar scenario. Solmo said he just saw some “fish hurrying in and out” of a spot 15 yards out. I let the shrimp-tipped jig fall and felt something pick it up off the bottom, almost like a mangrove snapper. When the reel screamed on my 2500 spinner, I knew the battle was on. I have been bonefishing plenty in the Bahamas, but there I was able to see the schools and make precision casts to individual fish. Today it was like casting to phantoms.
“What’s funny is that I’ve never fished this flat before for bonefish, but the conditions were too good to pass up,” Solmo said. “The way the sunlight hit the water, the tide moving just right—that’s what I’m looking for. You almost never see the silver sides of bonefish; you see the shadow they’re creating.”
Afternoon Delight
With Pieper crossing all three species off his list and me having two knocked out, Solmo didn’t want to give up. We headed over to Key West Harbor to soak the last of our pinfish for a couple of final tarpon.
The first drop-back, I had a serious strike that didn’t lead to a hookup. Soon Solmo marked fish passing under the boat, and he called out: “Someone’s about to get bit! Drop those baits back slowly.” Pieper’s baitfish was the unlucky casualty. But he whipped his tarpon pretty quickly, an estimated 45-pounder he was able to grab and release in the water.
On that next drop-back of pinfish, we added some split shots above our hooks to get the baits deeper. This time, it was my rod that bent over like a whip. The fish jumped, showing itself. Nearby anglers in boats called out oohs, aahs and woahs. I got to work fighting this estimated 100-pounder in a crowd.
The giant dragged me all over, first staying with the school before finally breaking away from the pack. We had a close call when a sport-fisher came by without a care in the world, nearly running over us and the fish. Every time the tarpon rolled at the surface, I cursed it for getting a fresh gasp of energy. About 45 minutes into the battle, we got the fish close to the bow for Solmo to pop the leader and release the tarpon. Good game. Game over.
On the short ride back to Oceans Edge Resort & Marina, I couldn’t help but think of what we accomplished. Pieper and I both landed a tarpon, bonefish and permit without any major planning. Pieper caught three new species. We were fishing in the continental US, not a less-pressured fishery like Belize. No specialized fly gear, just quality spin tackle and local live baits on a bay boat—and a captain who knows the waters better than the fish do. Truly, an everyman grand slam.
Off the Deep End
Key West caters to offshore fishermen too. Deep-drop species await, such as blueline tilefish, snowy grouper, sculpin, blackbelly rosefish and others. You’re never quite sure what you’ll catch, but it’s going to be delicious.
We used Penn’s new Fathom electric reel to explore different bottom in 450 and 650 feet with Capt. Rush Maltz, of Odyssea Key West Sportfishing. The cordless electric is powered by a rechargeable lithium battery, and we used just two batteries throughout the day.
Senior product manager Ben Joyce walked us through the different features as we fished. “The LED screen has intuitive controls that are easy to access and use,” he said. “There’s an auto-stop feature for hands-free retrieves. You can override the reel for manual jogging. Batteries are easy to switch out.”
We caught plenty of keepers throughout the morning, testing the winding power and speed of the electric reel. Seeing exactly how much line was out on the screen relative to how deep we were fishing let us know when we were scoped out too far. Our surprise catch of the day? A red snapper.
