I laid awake half the night Sunday, listening to the wind thrash the palms around my new workhouse. God, it was blowing. I wondered if we were in for yet another week of weather cancellations. I met my friend and regular customer Dr. Bob Rose and his friend John Sheridan just before seven. My buddy Capt. Mark Bess was fishing, too, and we planned to head to Fosters and double-team the bait. The southeast wind at over 25 knots was the first signal of yet another approaching front. In retrospect, I suppose we should have all canceled that Monday, and opted to fish Tuesday when the wind was around to the south, but the fish sure to be on the rampage. That wasn't the way we played it.

I got to Fosters ahead of Mark and was nearly baited up by the time he arrived. Bait was plentiful in the four foot deep, dirty water. Mark came along side, and discovered that his danforth anchor would not hold in that wind. He tried and tried to anchor, but the wind was just too much. I'd never seen him have that problem before, and believe me, we've fished some terribly windy days together. Finally, I waved him alongside to tie up to my boat, hoping that my Digger anchor would hold the two of them.

All the fuss trying to get anchored had blown the bait out, so we had to start over. We were well on our way to filling Mark's well when my anchor finally pulled a plug out of the bottom and let go. We had to re-anchor two more times before we got it to hold the two boats again. Bob was really anxious to get to fishing, but I wasn't about to hang Mark out to dry with no bait. If the roles had been reversed, there's no way Mark would have left me struggling to get bait. Besides, Mark was fishing with folks I'd sent him. At this point we were having problems getting the bait back in, so I topped Mark off with a couple of scoops from my well, and we were both off. I knew in my gut it would be a world class tough day!

Bob and John fished hard, and I took them where I knew for certain there were lots of fish. But, my gut was right. They managed 6 snook, a catfish, and a stingray. No keepers. No reds. Mark predictably had similar results. The other guides I spoke with all struggled, as well, and we did as well as anyone that day.

Bob and John decided they didn't want to fight that much wind for a second day, and opted to fly back home Tuesday morning. They came by for a quick visit and a cocktail that evening. I suggested that next time Bob came down to fish, he might rather save some motel money and camp at my place, and just add a few bucks to the kitty. I make that offer to any of my customers who come down just to fish, and then go back home. Most of you are coming from other parts of Florida and either paying high motel rates, or getting up in the middle of the morning to get here to fish by daybreak. I would be happy to have you come visit with me, have dinner that evening at one of our great seafood restaurants, and fish the next morning. Of course, I still have to find a bed for the second bedroom, but that shouldn't take long.

Well, as it turned out, many of our guides canceled Tuesday, but the ones who fought the south wind were well rewarded. A friend of mine, caught 21 nice redfish right in my favorite spot that morning. I hated to tell Bob that news, but thought he should know.

By Wednesday morning the front was through and the winds were now howling out of the northeast at 25. This was my first trip with Dave Zmijewski and his wife Beth, and her friend Kelly, all of Freemansburg, Pennsylvania. Beth and Kelly are both veterinarians, and just beautiful girls about my daughter's age. I think they were all having second thoughts about fighting that much north wind. I laid if out on the table for them. I explained that the snook and redfish most surely wouldn't eat, but that trout will often cooperate on the days when the glamour species won't. I was pretty confident that we could catch plenty of trout. Dave said they just wanted to catch fish, and especially wanted Kelly to catch fish, as she hadn't been able to do well while they were fishing on their own. We were off!

Not wanting to make the long run to Fosters, and fearing crossing the Sound in that much north wind might be unsafe, I opted to check for bait at Picnic Island. Bingo. There was plenty of bait, and it came quite easily. It wasn't long before we were making our way through the wind to my favorite trout hole. It wasn't long before we were all proclaiming how happy we were that we decided to fish. We had a serious trout bite going, and they were all beautiful fish. Everyone caught plenty. In fact, I lost exact count, but I know from doing it so many times in the days when I used to mark down every fish boated just how fast the numbers add up, and I'm sure we caught nearly 50 trout. The best part was that only half dozen of them were not keepers! We kept 7 fish to give them a couple of good meals, and the rest were released to fight again.

By Thursday morning the high pressure was well entrenched, and the wind was around to the east, where fishing is least. Tom Smith and his pals Charlie and Jim were down to snook fish from Cincinnati, Ohio. They told me they had done a lot of snook fishing over the years, much in the Thousand Islands, but they had never done this light tackle, shallow water stuff. It was kind of like going back to school for them.

I stopped at Chino Island for bait, then headed for a beautiful place in the north end of the Sound that has been giving me lots of snook action. I knew the snook were thick there, but I didn't know how they'd be holding or if they would eat. Well, they wouldn't eat anywhere! We went for most of the day without a bite! I was beginning to wonder if we were going to score a goose-egg for the first time in years. I made another move to what amounts to nothing more than a small depression on a beautiful flat. It had been holding lots of snook. Would they also have lockjaw?

We got our answer almost immediately. A bat full of chum was greeted with some serious crashing and thrashing on the flat. Finally, the fish were ready to eat. We pitched baits armed with hooks, and the fun was on. Until now, the boys hadn't had a chance to practice getting completely tight on the line before striking. They had their problems containing their desire to strike as soon as they saw the line move, and missed a lot of fish, but still managed a dozen or more snook to 25 1/2 inches to finish the day. We had a lot of fun in short order, and ended the day on a high note. Thank God! Tom, Charlie, and Jim were great sports and did their best to follow my coaching.

I was scheduled to fish with Bruce Heintzman, from Valrico, Florida, who I've fished with before, and know. As Thursday evening dragged on, I knew something was amiss. I hadn't heard from Bruce either by phone or email. By news time, I knew something bad was wrong, and that I wouldn't be fishing, and decided to send Bruce an email. I really didn't expect an answer, however, Bruce answered me within minutes. Seems that a few days before, while at a baseball game with his teenaged son and daughter, a line drive was hit from an adjacent field and struck his daughter in the head behind the ear, nearly killing her. She was in pediatric ICU for several days, and the doctors thought they were going to have to operate. Fortunately, they didn't have to, but the whole ordeal was a nightmare for Bruce. I wouldn't have been thinking about fishing, either. This should be a jarring reminder to all of us as to just how precious is life, and how quickly it can be taken from us.

So, there you have it. Compared to previous weeks, three out of five days ain't bad. Both the weather and the fishing are bound to turn around soon. Stay tuned!

Note: Those of you who have trips booked in the future, or who may want to book, should note my new phone numbers. Home/office is 941-415-7282, and the new cell phone number is 941-376-2214.