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"This one's mine
let me show you how it's done."
Capt. Danny Ayo skillfully presented his small crab
fly pattern to a big cruising Redfish, or what might be
called a Poisson Rouge in Louisiana country where Ayo
fishes. The Red studied the fly for a moment, and Ayo prayed
aloud: "Lord, please let me catch this fish." The
entreaty was a refreshing change from the sort of language
we too often hear on fishing boats. As his request reached
the heavens, the Redfish very deliberately tipped up and sipped
the imitation crab. The fight lasted five minutes.
As you might expect in such a food-rich environment as a back-country
marsh, the Redfish was fat and healthy; it weighed about nine pounds.
The exciting part was that Ayo had landed the fish on a 3-weight
outfit.
I
first met Ayo at a Federation of Fly Fishers conclave. A self-sufficient
fly fisher, he not only ties all his flies and builds his rods,
he even designed and built his welded-aluminum boat specifically
for the type of sight-fishing he does in the Louisiana marshes.
And in a state where a catch-and-release ethic has been hardly
heard of, much less established, Ayo is a maverick in another
way: he catches and releases anywhere from five to twenty Redfish
a day using a 3-weight rod, tackle more common to spring creeks
than marshes of the Bayou State.
A 3-weight rod is not exactly designed for sight-fishing,
but in the hands of an angler as skilled as Ayo it works incredibly
well. He delivers his flies with an 8½ foot rod matched
with a floating 5/6 Triangle Taper line that has three feet
cut off the business end. I tried it and easily tossed the
entire line (which was entirely unnecessary for this fishing,
by the way).
The 16-pound-test leader handled the fish just fine, and we successfully
released all the Redfish we caught. Ayo says a big Red in
the marsh runs 11 or 12 pounds, and he routinely takes fish
of that size on his light outfit. He's never broken a rod
on a fish.
With this dainty tackle, Ayo fights the fish using a light drag
setting on the reel. If he needs to put more pressure on the fish,
he sometimes palms the reel, but more often holds the tip on his
index finger against the line. When the fish runs he just lets it
go, and works the rod with short pumps to regain line after the
run ends. "You can only fight the fish with the butt when using
these little rods," Ayo said. "If you put too much bend
in the tip, the rod will break."
His favorite fly is an unweighted, fingernail-size crab imitation
he calls a Deadly Dan. He ties it on a size 4 hook, and uses Furry
Foam for the body. That's as large as his flies get. He also uses
hooks that most saltwater fly fishers would consider ridiculously
small sizes 8, 10, and 12. Ayo files the points of all his
hooks to razor sharpness, removing the barb in the process. The
slightest pressure from the angler or fish buries the hook in the
Redfish's rubbery mouth.
I had to unlearn some of what I knew about Florida Redfish to
successfully catch Cajun Reds on lighter fly tackle. "Forget
what Lefty Kreh says about presentation," Ayo coaxed. "It
doesn't matter which direction the fly approaches the fish from
as long as you get it into the strike zone. That strike zone extends
out about six inches from the fish's head. If you get the fly in
there the fish will usually eat. If you don't, it won't."
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I found his advice hard to accept, but time after time he
demonstrated what he meant. He would cast the fly past the
fish and drag it right into it's face. As soon as I began
imitation him my catch rate went up.
"I like to get out on the fishing grounds before the
fish start moving," Ayo said while staring at his global
positioning system unit, tracking us through the darkness.
We were whizzing through the marsh under the stars, cutting
through the rich swamp odors that hung heavy in the air. The
marsh was alive with mullets.
"The best fishing happens later, after the sun comes up,"
he said. "If you can find clean water you can sight-fish just
like you do in Florida."
It was true, the best fishing was yet to come that morning. But
the sound of Redfish crashing mullet kept reverberating through
the humid morning air, so I put on a foam diver, made a cast, and
connected almost immediately with a fat, healthy fish of about eight
pounds.
Ayo not only prefers to sight-fish with light tackle; he's passionate
about it. If he lived and fished in the rocky Mountains he would
be a dry-fly purist, casting only to rising fish.
"Most fly fishers here in Louisiana will bang a Clouser
Minnow off the bank, blind-casting, hoping something will
find the fly. That's not fly fishing. Seeing the fish, presenting
the fly, and watching the fish take, now that is what fly
fishing is all about."
In the Louisiana marshes, finding water that's clean enough to
see fish in takes some searching. One day's hot spot might look
like the Mississippi River the next, and without clean water a sight-caster
is doomed to frustration. We fished places about 12 inches deep
overgrown with leafy aquatic plants. "The weeds filter the
mud out of the water," Ayo explained.
Later on, as I fought another fish, the knots, connecting my leader
sections snared big globs of vegetation. "That's why I use
a level, sixteen pound test leader," he said. "No knots
to catch the muck." I tried his suggested leader the following
morning and was pleased with it's performance.
We fished on a weekend and didn't see another boat the entire time.
I wondered how many spots were like this in Louisiana.
"The marshes extend from the Mississippi state line to the
Texas state line. There are literally thousands and thousands of
duck ponds loaded with Redfish that entire distance," Ayo told
me. "The marshes are unbelievably fertile and support enormous
numbers of shrimps, crabs, crayfish, mullets, pogies, and other
food for Redfish. The fish live in the marshes until their third
or fourth year, then they find their way out into the Gulf where
they join up with other breeder fish. Hardly anyone fishes the way
I do and most of these fish have never seen a fly before."
I asked him his favorite time of year to fish. "I love the
fall and early winter,. The fish eat well, fattening up for
the cold weather. They tail all day long, moving into the
skinniest water imaginable. The water is cleanest then, and
lots of these weeds die back. When we get cold fronts the
fish move into the canals along the pipelines and then I can't
find any. But as long as soon as it warms up they come right
back into the shallows."
This is the kind of action to expect when you fish for Poisson
Rouge Louisiana's Cajun Redfish. And
the enjoyment is only increased when you do it, as Danny Ayo
does, with lightweight fly tackle.
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