Added on Thursday, December 9, 2010  Fish Post

Full Groan Grouper

With my back turned, the grunts and gasps I heard could easily have been coming from a world’s strongest man competition or a Greco-Roman wrestling match. Turning around, though, I regained my sense of place as I saw Eddie Hardgrove in a Herculean struggle of his own—an extra-heavy jigging rod bent well into the handle under his arm coupled to a large and obviously angry adversary through less than 100’ of braided line.

The noisy standoff continued for several intense moments, as the salesman used every muscle in his body to lean back and raise the tip of the rod, then gained precious half-turns on the reel handle. An incremental struggle to be sure, but several seconds later it looked like Eddie’s efforts were headed somewhere, as he began to gain line by full-turns and more. The fish was clearly not pleased with his progress, registering its displeasure with gunwale-pinning surges back towards the seafloor.

As he pried the fish further from its subsurface home, Eddie relaxed a bit, apparently satisfied that he’d worked the fish up in the water column enough that it wouldn’t be parting the leader on the rocky seafloor, as the last two unseen giants he’d hooked had.

Less than a minute later, Eddie’s mood jumped from exhaustion to elation, as the fish became visible in the transparent blue water.

“Yeah dude!” he exclaimed. “Fat daddy gag!”

Before the words had left his lips, Capt. Tommy Rickman ensured that the fish would be taking an icy ride back to Southport by planting a gaff under its chin and hefting it over the gunwale.

A fat gag indeed—this fish was flirting with the 20 lb. NC state citation mark and was the second grouper we’d put in the boat that morning, moments behind a smaller, but still easily 10 lb. gag, that Gary Hurley had added to the fish box. Eddie had been a bit somber after releasing a potential all-tackle world record scorpionfish (later discovered, of course) that he landed on his first drop and the aforementioned break-offs, but his psyche had done an excellent recovery job and he was bubbling over as he held up his prize for a few photos with Rickman and fellow Capt. Chad Casteen.

Wanting to savor a few more grouper meals before the impending winter closure of the fishery, Gary, Eddie and I had enlisted Tommy and Chad’s help on this late-November mission. Tommy runs Southport Angler Outfitters, a complete inshore/offshore guiding service, and Chad handles much of the operation’s offshore work.

Tommy, a gracious host, had even invited us to spend the weekend in the comfortable condos of the Fat Flounder lodge, adjacent to his office on the Southport waterfront. Waking up, walking out the door, and stepping onto the boat is an incredibly refreshing departure from the 1-3 hour predawn car ride that accompanies many of our trips, and I savored every additional minute that change afforded me with my head on a pillow.

The rising sun kept us company on the trip out the mouth of the Cape Fear River and along the west side of Frying Pan Shoals, and Rickman was soon pulling back the throttles on his 25’ Parker less than a mile short of the former light tower marking the end of the treacherous shoals.

Radio chatter had indicated that most of the bait had vacated spots further inshore, like the Horseshoe and South 40’s, but was thick near the tower, and the half-dozen center consoles bobbing along and working sabiki rigs confirmed it.

“Chad, pull us up there,” Tommy said, relinquishing the Parker’s helm to replace king mackerel rigs with sabikis on a trio of live bait rods.

We joined the bait fleet and were soon loading the Parker’s leaning post well, a few tomtates and other bottom dwellers joining the cigar minnows that were apparently swarming the area, as the vibrant display on the color scope and 3-6 minnows per drop coming up on our rigs testified.

A half dozen drifts through the area produced more than enough minnows and assorted other baits for our mission, so the Parker was soon on plane again, after a little debate between the captains on where we’d be getting started.

A few miles away, Tommy was circling a live bottom area in 85-95’ of water southwest of the tower. It was hard, keeping my eyes on the explosive display on the depthfinder, to hold back, but I stayed patient while Tommy and Chad prepared to send down the anchor.

Interestingly, Eddie’s scorpionfish aside, this first drop was surprisingly unproductive.

“That current’s screaming,” Tommy explained, eyeing our lines trailing behind the boat. “Here, I’ve got some 24 oz. weights. Give them a shot. Y’all ought to be killing it down there.”

The heavier weights did little to affect our success, so after trying a few more tricks to turn on the bite, Tommy was quick to pull the plug on this first spot, and we made a short move, “flying” the anchor behind the boat to save our backs and allow Tommy to spin the boat on a bottom mark and lay the big hook down on the perfect spot.

Setting up on our second bit of structure, another live bottom area nearby, we encountered a similar show on the fish finder, and, mercifully, a somewhat slower current.

Our first drops produced grunts and sea bass, but after sending down a second wriggling minnow, Gary was fast to something with a bit more fight in it.

“Hey, what you got there Gary?” Tommy inquired, looking up from tying a king rig onto a live bait rod. “That looks a little more like it.”

I watched as Gary slowly gained line on the fish, clearly something more substantial than the white grunt I’d just dropped onto the deck, but with a lot more “thump” to its fight than the groupers.

Leaning over the gunwale, I watched as a tiny flash below the Parker gained in size and developed a distinct tint.

“American red!” Tommy said, taking in the same view I was.

When Gary’s sinker hit the surface, Tommy grabbed the long leader below it and hauled the fish, a solid snapper around 8 lbs., aboard.

“Too bad we’ve got to let these go. Wouldn’t you like to eat that tonight?” the captain continued, sliding the hook out and posing for a brief photo before “venting” and releasing the beautiful crimson fish. 

Though fishermen are seeing more of these snappers than they have in years off the Cape Fear coast, South Atlantic fisheries managers have closed the species to harvest indefinitely, and all red snappers must be released.

That snapper wasn’t the last we saw, as several more fell for our baits only to be vented and released.

The bite at this spot petered out shortly afterward, as did the explosive activity on the sounder, and Tommy was quick to notice why.

“Our anchor course changed a bunch,” he explained after taking a glance at the compass. “We were at 240 degrees, and now we’re at 270.”

A shift in the wind or current had swung us off the spot, and rather than reposition, Tommy elected to hit another part of the live bottom a short distance away.

We (or at least Gary and Eddie) didn’t have to wait long after Tommy gave us the “bombs away” to find the action we’d been looking for.

Ensconced in yet another brutal battle moments after the tomtate he’d baited up with touched down, Eddie was again huffing and puffing in the corner behind me.

“Get him, Eddie! Wind! Wind! Come on, Turbo!” were just a few of the exclamations that Eddie heard while battling this fish, but he shut out the racket, pried the fish away from the live bottom it called home, and soon Chad buried a gaff under the chin of a stout scamp, a near-15 lb. fish that was the definition of filled out—it’s stocky body terminating in a gorgeous “broom tail,” streamers extending several inches past the end of the caudal fin. These tail streamers put many a smaller scamp over the 20” legal limit and destine them for the fish box, but there was no need to measure this beauty.

Gary had quietly decked a smaller, but very much legal scamp while Eddie was struggling with his fish, and he turned to congratulate his advertising manager on a beautiful catch while sending down another minnow.

His bait hadn’t been down for long before he, too, was the proud owner of a bowed-up jigging rod and soon decked another beautiful scamp, this one just a pound or two shy of Eddie’s fish.

Thrilled to see such quality fish coming over the rails, I was also a bit disappointed that I hadn’t yet succeeded at putting a grouper in the box, despite several missed bites and one pulled hook.

Refocusing my concentration and dropping another minnow, I again failed to connect with what seemed like a fat grouper, and Tommy offered some advice while baiting a light-line with a frozen cigar.

“Oftentimes those scamps will grab the bait and hold on just like a flounder,” he explained, tossing the minnow a dozen yards off the transom and setting the live bait outfit in a leaning post holder. “Just lift the rod once in a while to see if you feel one, and then crank to get that circle hook set.”

Following his advice led me to a very fat sea bass on my next drop, but I still had grouper fever (and no small envy for the fat fish my co-workers had put in the boat). I hooked a tomtate through the nostrils, sent it down, and felt the fish struggling against the hook in its nose for a brief moment before something annihilated the hapless little grunt, ending the bait’s rhythmic twitching with a bone-jarring thump.

My jigging rod doubled over immediately, and there was no doubt a grouper or other large bottom dweller had found the bait. I gained a few turns on the reel handle, satisfied that the hook was buried in the fish, but still nervous it would find the bottom and snap my leader before I was able to gain the crucial first 10’ of line that would have the fish in the relative security of open water.

Hefting up on the rod, I was able to pry the tip up a few inches at a stretch, turning the reel handle to gain line in modest increments that grew larger with each stroke.

I was beginning to feel a little better 15 or so seconds into the fight, as I knew there was no way the fish was getting back to the bottom against the reel’s locked-down drag, and the hook held until I first saw a bit of color, then the brown outline of a healthy gag grouper materializing in the shadow of the Parker’s hull.

A moment later, I wrapped my hand in the 130 lb. leader and lifted a gag barely shy of Eddie’s into the boat. It was my turn to celebrate, and I must say it felt sweet to finally add a fat grouper to the fish box.

I was finally feeling like a contributing member of the team when I landed a twin fish on a cigar minnow on my next drop.

The light-line had been producing teenage king mackerel regularly during the day (much to the satisfaction of a pair of burly barracudas that were clipping most of them in half). Chad and Tommy were generous enough to handle most of the mackerel while the Fish Post crew continued to bottom fish, and the clicker began to sing again before I’d calmed down from my miniature grouper streak.

Tommy again took the rod while the king ran, and as he worked the fish close, I decided to try and do my part by gaffing the fish. Setting my jigging rod in a gunwale holder while a large grunt fillet soaked on the bottom, I grabbed an 8’ gaff and headed to the bow, where Tommy was busily working his fish out from around the anchor line. Trying to utilize my expansive reach, I took a swipe at the fish while it was still underwater a few feet off the starboard bow, but couldn’t quite get to the 10 lb. king before it dove out of range.

“Max!” I heard Gary, Eddie, and Chad shout in near unison from the cockpit. I glanced back to see Chad trying to pry my viciously-bent bottom rod from the holder and just in time to see what happened next. While Chad tried to loosen the drag in order to get the U-shaped rod out of the holder, it shattered just above the reel seat with a mighty crack.

“Dude! Whoa!” were the only stunned (and printable) words anyone could muster before Tommy’s king surfaced and I managed a clumsy tail shot with the gaff, still distracted by what I’d just witnessed.

Returning to inspect the outfit, I mustered a sheepish, “Well, at least we’ve still got the reel, right?”

Tommy and Chad were quick to offer condolences on the loss of the rod.

“Those jigging rods make the smaller scamps a blast, but they’re under-gunned on some of these bigger fish,” Tommy said as I held up the remains of the combo.

“Yeah, they’re not for the 20-pounders,” Chad added.

Setting up another rod with a grouper rig, I sent down a few more baits, but our day was winding down and I believe Chad had the honor of putting the final grouper in the box, another solid scamp.

Most of the grouper fishing I’ve done in the past involved dead and cut bait with an occasional live one sent down, but live bait figures heavily in the Southport Angler grouper game plan. Tommy and Chad also use longer leaders than I’m used to, 6’ or longer to give the baits plenty of swimming room, and after seeing the quality fish their techniques produce, I must say I’m a believer.

Grouper will be closed to harvest from January until the end of April, but during the season anglers wishing to enjoy some brutal battles and mouth-watering meals would do well to call the Southport Angler Outfitters crew to schedule a trip. They also can put anglers on just about any fish from flounder, speckled trout, and red drum inshore to king mackerel, dolphin, and more off the beaches. Contact them at (866) 395-3474 or visit www.fishsouthport.com for more information.