Well, I was supposed to be on vacation this week, but because I was booking so far ahead, I booked Monday and Tuesday of my vacation week, before I had the vacation marked on my calendar. I'm glad I did, though, as I wouldn't have missed either trip for the world.

Giles Boudreau and his friend and business partner Dave Hench, from Ft. Lauderdale, Florida, were first up for the week. Giles is a fishing buddy of our mutual friend Russ Hubbard, and referred by Russ. I had asked Giles if I could bring my son-in-law, Roland, along, as it was the only day he could be there to fish, and he had never been fishing. Can you believe it? Giles didn't mind at all. Russ just loves to pump his buddies full of you know what about what a tough guy I am on the water to the point that they're about to back out by trip time. Well, he had Giles and Dave not knowing what to expect, but Giles soon realized he'd been set up pretty well. You can probably guess that I was really looking forward to this trip. The four of us had a blast! It wasn't a spectacular bite, but it was certainly good enough, and over the course of the morning Giles, Dave, and Roland, boated 44 snook to 5 pounds, 12 nice trout, and a snapper. Roland, on his first outing, landed 7 and lost 4. Pretty good! All the guys agreed that it was unbelievable fishing, and they all wanted to do it again.

Tuesday, I was booked with Ron Jones, and his brother Larry, from Winter Park, Colorado, and their nephew Jason, from Georgia. Ron was referred to me by my friend and customer Jay Lawyer. I was really looking forward to this trip, also. Ron and Larry were great guys, good fishermen, and lots of fun. We had a hell of a good time. The boys boated 31 snook to 6 pounds and 5 trout by ten o'clock, and then we took off for the flats to see if we could find some redfish. They wanted to learn how to catch reds, and learn and catch they did. They caught 19 of the bronze torpedoes by noon, for a total of 55 fish, and we called it a day. I was really glad I worked those two days. I would have missed out on making some great new friendships.

The rest of the week I spent getting cars, vans, boats, etc. repaired. You know, all the things there isn't time to do when you're working every day. I was surprised to arrive at my office Wednesday, and find my first ever hate mail, in the form of an email which had been sent to Capt. Mel Berman, the popular host of AM 970's Capt. Mel Berman Fishing Show on Saturday mornings here in the Tampa area. Capt. Mel had forwarded it on to me, and had written a reply, as well. This person was convinced that I am some kind of self promoting, self aggrandizing, you know what, and that the numbers in my fishing reports are pure fiction for the benefit of me and my sponsors. I also wrote a reply to this gentleman assuring him that my reports are truthful, informing him that I have, nor want sponsors, and inviting him to book a trip. Hopefully, he will do that in the near future.

Later in the week, we received another similar email from a different individual, but expressing the same sentiment. Hum. Seems a little suspicious.

Out of the blue, I had two different individuals challenge the numbers in my fishing reports, as well as my motives for the first time ever. Had they taken the time to go back and read some of my earlier reports, or to go to my website and read the testimonials, they would have known that one of the things that gives me credibility with my readers is that I report the bad as well as the good. Anyone who's followed my career for very long knows that I don't gloss the reports over either way, to the good or the bad. This week's report should be a shining example of that.

The first trip after my short vacation was with Phil Whalen, of Marlboro, Mass., his brother Ken, and his 76 year old dad, Tom, from Austin, Texas. My good friend Lew Joseph, who's boat has been down for several weeks, volunteered to come along as first mate. Since I hadn't seen Lew in a while, and since three anglers are really hard to keep up with this time of year when things are going right, I was glad to have Lew join us. I really figured we'd need him.

But the fishing Gods had different ideas. First, bait was really tough. We just couldn't get the bait ganged up, but there was just enough showing up to convince me that it would. I threw and threw that net, gathering from 2 to 10 baits at a time, until I was blue in the face. Finally, after many throws we started to hit them a little heavier, but we had been delayed about an hour from my usual schedule. The irony is that my wife doesn't think I get any exercise when I'm working!

Once on the Stickbeach things weren't any better. The bite was very slow. Real slow! Phil was the experienced angler of the Whalen bunch, and managed to catch 5 nice snook to 7 pounds, but Ken and Tom had lots of trouble trying to get the hookset down and missed most of the takers. They kept Lew and I busy with tying lines and baiting hooks until around ten o'clock, when it all stopped. We had only boated around 9 snook. A pitiful showing for the normally spectacular action on the Stickbeach. The only consolation was that of all the other boats lined up on the beach, we only saw two other fish landed.

I asked the boys if they wanted to attempt to find some redfish, but made no promises. We were already on a falling tide, and the flats were already cooking. My hopes weren't high, but I figured it was worth a shot, and the ride would help us all cool down. We spent an hour or so on the flat, and it was like a desert. There weren't even any mullet jumping. I chummed and moved and chummed and moved several times, without so much as a hit. Wanting to end the day on a positive note, I suggested we head for the Waterfront Restaurant and have a great lunch and cool down period. I also like doing that because I often am so busy working and trying to keep up while we're fishing, that there literally isn't time to talk and get to know your customer. Lunch at the Waterfront gives me time to get to know my folks a little bit, and also lets them have time to realize that coach Butchie isn't such a bad guy, either.

So, there you have it. The slowest day this summer with only 9 snook and a trout caught. The Whalen boys were great though, and assured me they had a good time in spite of the slow bite. Phil said the stop at the Waterfront really saved the day.

Wednesday morning I met Bob Brett and his friend Mike, of Tampa, Florida, with some trepidation. I was more than a little concerned that whatever had shut down the snook on Tuesday might well still be going on. I knew Bob and Mike had been on quite a few trips with a guide out of Bradenton, and had always done well, except for a trip a couple of weeks ago, when they couldn't find a red or snook, and took until eleven o'clock to find bait. Boy, now that's a tough day! I really wanted this to be a banner trip for these guys.

On the bait flat, the shiners appeared almost immediately, and although it took a little longer than the usual two or three throws, we were off and running to the Stickbeach by seven o'clock. The water was flat, and I knew it was going to be another hot one. I just prayed that the bite would be, too.

Well, it didn't take long to get an answer. From the first to the last of the 200+ baits that went into the water, the action was fast and steady except for one brief lull. Bob and Mike are both pretty experienced anglers, and caught on to the game pretty quickly. I still did some coaching, and almost always do, because I'm trying to get the very best out of my customers and teach them some new tricks, too. We all had a blast! I tried my best to get them to keep an exact count of what they caught, but they just said they couldn't keep up. What we did establish beyond question was that they were catching a snook every three or four minutes, unless they were having to wait on a line to be tied. Even if you say every five minutes, that's twelve snook per hour times two anglers. They fished four solid hours, so that gives us a possible 100 snook in four hours. They agreed there could be no question about 50 to 60 snook in the boat. The snook Gods had indeed smiled upon us!

Wednesday, Dennis Petroff and his son Jason, and son-in-law, Bill, were down from their vacation home in Punta Gorda. Dennie and the boys said the fishing hadn't been very good in Charlotte Harbor. My morning started on a sour note even before the boys arrived. I dropped BarHopp'R I into the water, got in and started the Yamaha, put in it reverse and it stalled. Thinking it was cold, I restarted, put it in forward for a second, and it was OK. Pulled back into reverse again, and the engine stalled again. I was immediately suspicious that I had something fouled in the prop. I raised the engine and sure enough, even in the dark I could see a large crab trap buoy and lots of rope rapped around everything. Seems some moron had dragged a crab trap in and left it right there at the dock in the water. I wound up right in the middle of it in the dark.

I got the prop cleared before Dennis and the boys arrived, and hoped the rest of the day would be uneventful. My good friend Lew Joseph arrived shortly afterward, and would be first mate again. Out on the Chino flats, bait proved to be very tough. We finally got plenty of bait, but a new crop of very small shiners had invaded the flat and the net was full of them by the time we were done. What a mess! I decided it was time to get out the 1/4" mess net for tomorrow. As I was preparing the boat for the run, I realized my bilge was full of water on the port side. The pump for that side wasn't working. So, I had to use the hand bilge pump to get rid of the water. I wasn't going to try to fool with it while on the water. Boy, it's always something!

When we arrived at the Stickbeach it was plenty light enough for sunglasses. I pulled them out of my pocket to find that one of the ear-pieces had broken off. Nuts! I'd be fighting trying to keep broken sunglasses on all day. But not wearing them at all wasn't even an option. The last time I did that I thought I would die.

Fortunately, the fish were willing to eat. Dennis and the boys didn't massacre them, but they did well, and they were lots of fun. Dennis caught 9 snook, Bill got 9 snook, and Jayson got 5. Jason had a little harder time adapting to the hookset technique, but we all had fun. God only knows how many they missed outright and broke off in the trees, but I know Lew and I tied lots of lines, as is the case every day on the Stickbeach.

Dennie was interested in learning how to catch redfish on the flats, so we headed inside around ten o'clock. In a half hour we were on the flats, and Lew helped me chum the fish by chopping up lots of dead shiners. After plenty of live and dead chumming, we had a few fish interested in us, and had five hits. Two were missed, two big ones broke off, and the last one came to the boat. By then everyone though lunch at the Waterfront was sounding like a great way to escape the heat and reenergize ourselves. Lunch also gave us all more time to chat and get more acquainted.

After an hour and a half respite at the Waterfront we were off to the ramp. As we pulled in to the docks I could see the very top of the cab and part of the front edge of the hood of what looked like Capt. Fritz Gisewhite's Ford truck. Not a pretty sight! Something had gone wrong, and the truck was nearly submerged with trailer attached. His boat was tied to the dock. The wrecker was still slowly pulling it out of the water when I headed for home. It certainly was a day of things going wrong, little and big.

I could tell as I drove to the ramp on Friday morning that there was a pretty heavy cloud cover. I thought it might rain early. My party for Friday was Fred Kremer, his son Chris, and friend David, from Odessa, Florida. Fred would be coming down and spending some time on North Captiva Island in July, and would have his boat with him. He was interested in learning where and how to fish, catch bait, etc., since they'd caught primarily trout on previous trips. In fact, I believe he said Chris had only caught one snook in his life, and David none. Chris also informed me that they had been on several guide trips and had caught little to nothing. He was apprehensive about coming on this trip for that reason. I was hoping I could restore his faith in our profession.

Because Fred would be on North Captiva, I decided to take them to Foster's Point, which is inside North Captiva, for bait. It would be close for them. I also though that the bait situation might be better there than at Chino, which had been a little off. The water at Captiva was really clear, and I was concerned that the bait might be boat shy, but once we got the water clouded up with chum and silt off the bottom with the net, the bait came in very well. It didn't take us long to gather over 400 pieces of beautiful bait. We were on schedule, and the water was flat.

Again, we were the first boat on the scene, and the action was almost immediate. Fred, who's quite a skilled angler, got dialed in to the tight line hookset pretty quickly, as did Chris. It took Dave a little longer. We had a great bite, and from 7:30 to 10:00 AM the trio put 39 snook, 3 trout, and a jack in the boat. Of course, like everyone, they missed twice that many. They kept me pretty busy, but we had a ball, and Chris' fear of another stinker trip were soon laid to rest.

We headed inside to see if we could scare up a redfish or two before quitting time. The problem we had trying to chum the reds was that the wind would not settle down. It was variable, trying to form a seabreeze, but kept flopping from one direction to another. It kept blowing me off my chum. In the meantime, though, Fred, who'd had the hot rod all morning, caught another 5 or 6 snook on the flats, much to the dismay of Chris and David.

The boys succumbed to the heat just before quitting time, and we were off to the Waterfront once again, to rejuvenate ourselves. That Waterfront looks like an oasis in the middle of a desert in the heat of our summer days. We had a great lunch and some time to talk. When we walked out of the restaurant, we were immediately concerned with the very dark skies and lightning back toward the ramp. I knew we'd get wet, or worse, if we didn't hurry. I rarely run the Yamaha over 4500 RPM, as there's just no need to. That's fast enough for most folks, and certainly for me, and it gets good mileage there. But, when I saw the lightning and wall of water coming I decided to make an exception and step it up a little. We arrived at the ramp just as it started to rain. I skipped the customary dockside washdown, and loaded the BarHopp'R as quickly as I could.

So, there you have it. It was a wonderful and productive two weeks. But, I still say the best part of the guide business is all the great people you meet and new friends you make. It's hard to beat.