The New Orleans Times-Picayune News Paper November 1996

By Bob Marshall
Outdoor editor

The race was on, the competitors evenly matched.

On one side, a school of redfish, their bronze sides flashing in the sun, a ribbon of fish weaving like dolphins across the surface of the sallow pond in a mad attack on a fleeing school of mullet.

On the other, Danny Ayo, his push pole pumping like a piston, struggling to move his 18-foot skiff ahead of the fish in 6 inches of water.

After 10 exhausting minutes, Ayo had pulled ahead by a yard. It was enough. He grabbed his fly rod and willed his spent arm to lay a tiny pink streamer just ahead of the lead red.

Almost instantly, a huge wake moved on the fly – and Ayo's exhaustion vanished.

"I told you you'd see things you never saw before," he laughed.

Fishermen start seeing unusual things the moment they lay eyes on Danny Ayo.

There's the boat. It's Ayo's creation, best described as a Cajun "flats boat" – a welded 18-foot aluminum skiff with casting platforms bow and stern towering for feet above the waterline. He built it himself, just like he built his Houma home – in his spare time between driving for a freight company and guiding fly-fishing trips.

There's the gear. He's using two- and three-weight fly rods and No. 12 and 14 flies for redfish that average 4 to 10 pounds, and he catches them. That's like going after grizzlies with a BB gun.

There's the talk. Ayo lives only for the strike. He uses barbless hooks, hoping the fish slips off after the strike; sometimes he uses flies with no hooks at all, just to see the strike. It's a philosophy captured in the name of his business: Shallow Minded Guide Service.

There are the spots he fishes. Ayo turns his custom skiff off a canal south of Houma, kills the engine, grabs the push pole and moves silently into a pond with water so shallow that ducks leave skid marks when they land. He poles so deep into the maze of ponds and lagoons he keeps the GPS running so he can find his way out.

And then there's the fish. Redfish, lots of them, in water so shallow their tails and backs are exposed to the pink glow of dawn as they push through the thick marsh muck while pursuing crabs and minnows with the casual confidence of hogs grubbing in slip. There are so many in one small pond the water seems to be alive.

As he views the scene from his lofty perch, Ayo wears the contented smile of a connoisseur sitting down to a feast.

"For me, this is what it's all about," Ayo says. "I've gotten to the point where if I can't see then, I don't want to fish for them. Some people think that's strange. They think everything I do is strange. But it's just something that's evolved."

For the first 35 years of his life Ayo, 44, was pretty much a traditional bayou angler. He fished specks, reds, bass, and bream using casting and spinning gear, content to measure the day's success by the number of fish he brought home. But abut 10 years ago things began to change. Ayo found himself at a crossroads many anglers eventually face: The thrill of harvesting had lost its appeal.

"I still loved being out there in the marsh, in the peace and quiet, but I was getting bored by the action," Ayo said. "I started looking for something else."

He tried going to ultralight tackle, using 2-,4-, and 6-pound test. When that wore off, he moved to fly rodding for reds, using a 9-wt. rod, the tackle recommended by experienced fly fishermen in the New Orleans Fly Fishers Club. That thrill didn't last long either.

"I was thinking of quitting when I tried a 5-wt. fly rod," Ayo said. "The difference between a 9-wt. and a 5-wt. is like night and day."

"The time I hooked a red with a 5, it took all my line and 100 feet of backing before I could stop him. That was it: I was hooked on light weight rods and sight casting."

Hooked may be an understatement. Ayo has become consumed with his specialized sport. He began traveling to Flyfishing conclaves to meet fellow suffers, seeking advice and honing his skills. Slowly he began applying his new knowledge to local fishing.

It shows in his boat, unlike anything else in the marsh. Long, lean, and light, it can float in three inches of water, and its perfectly flat bottom means it can be poled across a mud flat.

"Stealth is the key in getting close to these fish," Ayo said. My thrill is getting right on top of the fish and watching them. You can only do that by poling – a poling quietly. Most people don't know how much there is to see out there, and how easy it is, if you know how."

He proves his point early on a Wednesday morning. Stars are still bright in the sky when Ayo kills the small outboard at the mouth of a cut leading into a large expanse of broken marsh, acres of ponds and lagoons. Just inside the opening – less than 10 yards from the canal – the wakes are cutting across the shallow surface. What looks like isolated stems of marsh grass begin moving, turning instantly into the dorsal and tail fins of redfish searching for meals.

Ayo poles quietly, eventually putting the skiff about 15 yards for one red snaking across the pond. He slowly picks up the 3-wt. rod and lays a tiny popping bug just past the nose of the fish. After one pop, a wake builds behind the fly, movers over it, and consumes it. Ayo yells in delight, pulling back on the fly line,setting the hook – then watching as the red tears through the water, taking line for 15 yards.

"This is what it's all about," he says. "Sight fishing is the only way to go, because it adds so much more to the experience. You're not just blind casting, you're seeing your game. You're hunting, not fishing."

"I see then, I stalk them, like a hunter stalks a deer. By seeing them you get a lot more anticipation with every fish."

"Sometimes I come out by myself and just watch these fish. It's fascinating and thrilling. I learn so much about their behavior. I see things I never knew about."

Like last week. Late in the day Ayo is fishing in a large, open lagoon, when a disturbance at the base of some Roseau canes 100 yards away catches his eye. The splashing continues. Slowly moving in the other direction: Reds, a school of them, feeding wildly on minnows. Ayo picks up the pole and a mad chase begins, first in one direction and then in the opposite as the school changes course to follow its meal. After 10 minutes of work, Ayo finally has his skiff positioned for a cast. Using the 2-wt. rod, he flips the small streamer and is rewarded with an instant strike.

"Now that's something even I haven't seen out here before," he said. "Every day is glorious, because every day has a surprise."