Red Moon Rising 2008
Gary Hurley and Capt. Charles Brown with a 47" red drum caught on a large chunk of cut mullet fished on the drop-off of an oyster rock near the intersection of the Neuse River and Pamlico Sound.
“Here’s a Core Sounder who knows his electronics,” Capt. Charles Brown, of Old Core Sound Guide Service said, navigating to a page displaying lunar data on his GPS/depthfinder unit. “It’s a full moon tonight, and it’ll be hot and heavy, but the moonrise is at 5:47, and we’re not going to do anything until that moon starts coming up. Then they’ll move up onto the rock and start eating.”
His 23′ Venture bobbing in a tight chop created by a gusty 15 knot breeze, Charles’s confidence seemed justified-the previous evening, a father/son party from Raleigh had released 25 trophy class red drum while fishing with him, with the action beginning in the very spot we were sitting, an oyster rock in 12′ of water near the junction of the Neuse River and the Pamlico Sound.
“If it’s blowing NE, you want to be on the SW side of the rock; if it’s a SW wind, this side,” Charles said after anchoring, gesturing to the northeast side of the large, potato shaped rock on his GPS screen.
“You’d have trouble finding a spot out here that I haven’t dropped a hook on,” the captain said after pointing out a myriad of spots on his GPS where he regularly catches big reds, puppy drum, speckled trout, and other species. It wasn’t idle talk, as Charles, a fourth-generation resident of the Davis community east of Beaufort, grew up commercial fishing in the area, switching over to guiding recreational charters at the advice of a man he considers his mentor-Pete Allred, owner and operator of former Morehead City institution Pete’s Tackle.
It’s been over 15 years since Charles set out on a commercial fishing trip. He’s been working to put recreational anglers on fish since the early 80’s, as a mate and captain on a number of boats. These days he guides during his home time on a three week on/three week off schedule overseeing oil transfers aboard tankers around the globe.
As a former commercial fishermen, Charles has seen both sides of the issues facing our fisheries for years and is now an outspoken advocate of protecting the fisheries he loves, although it can be an unpopular sentiment with the numerous old-time commercial fishermen in the area.
Shortly after 5:00, Charles gave the go-ahead to set out the spread, six modified Carolina rigs baited with large chunks of mullet and pogies, and we fan casted the heavy, 20-25 lb. spinning rods into the waves astern of the Venture, casting a nervous eye on a shrimp trawler slowing down to our starboard.
“Please, pretty please don’t put out and start dragging. Old Charlie doesn’t need a shrimp boat tonight,” Charles said, explaining that the trawling gear aboard the shrimp boat would spook the drum away from the rock we’d chosen, and that at worst we’d have to pull anchor and hightail it out of the way if one of the half-dozen boats working the area was bearing down on us.
Fortunately the shrimper continued casually on her way, nets swaying from the outriggers, and our attention refocused on the six rod tips fanning out from the Venture’s cockpit.
A few light taps telegraphed through several of the rods were the first signs of action, but not quite what we were looking for.
“The pickers are out tonight,” Charles said, explaining that the huge baits were attractive to pinfish and bluefish, among other smaller species, just as they were to the drum.
“Reel the outriggers in and check them,” he directed Gary and I. We complied, pulling the rods out of the outward facing console mounted rod holders while Charles cranked in one of the center baits.
Checking the other rods on my side of the boat, it became clear that the pickers had found two of them, and limp strips of mullet skin were all that remained on the hooks.
After rebaiting the circle hooks with even larger hunks of mullet (we’re talking tennis ball size), Gary and I sent the rods back out. Turning to Charles with a question about the shrimpers, I noticed his attention raptly focused on a rod tip on Gary’s side of the boat. I followed his gaze and saw the tip bend slowly, then spring back upright as the line went slack.
“Gary, there he is, reel, reel!” Charles urged, and as Gary cranked the handle, the rod took on a deep bow, and the spinning reel’s drag began uttering a strained note as the fish took line. A grin split Gary’s face as it became apparent that we’d found our quarry.
Earlier, the captain had explained that some particularly wild fish require him to clear all the lines, but if possible he likes to leave a few baits in the water to stack the odds for a multiple hookup.
The boss’s fish swam across the spread of lines, but it had run far enough away from the bay boat to allow us to keep several baits wet, although it did force Gary to perform a quick maneuver around a few occupied rod holders.
Following his fish to the front of the boat, Gary’s smile stayed pasted to his face, and I was able to get a look at his adversary as it wallowed on the surface a few boatlengths off the port gunnel.
The late afternoon light reflecting off the drum’s side revealed a color unrivaled by any newly minted penny, and as I watched it took off on another dogged run, illustrating with a few sweeps of its powerful tail why these big drum are called bulls.
Capt. Charles Brown and Max Gaspeny with a citation-class red drum that took a large cut mullet bait fished on a modified Carolina rig atop a submerged oyster rock near the mouth of the Neuse River.
Although these fish are hard charging, formidable opponents, the heavy spinning tackle Charles and other area guides use means that anglers can fish drag settings heavy enough to land them in short order.
After a few more bulldog charges, Gary had the fish boatside, where Charles gently held it by the lip latch and belly, cradling it as he lifted it into the boat. The “old drum,” as the 40+” fish are known, was striking in both its size and majestic, metallic coloration, and after I snapped a quick series of photos of Gary with the fish, Charles took the fish, slid it back into the water, and held its mouth open to revive it after the battle. The short fight hadn’t taken too much out of the fish, and it soon surged away from the guide, headed back to the rock.
While it’s possible to land these fish on much lighter tackle, an angler stands a chance of literally fighting the fish to death: building up so much lactic acid in its body that it cannot absorb enough oxygen from the water to recover. The chances of killing the fish increase in direct proportion to the length of time the fight lasts and the temperature of the water (as hot water holds less oxygen). Charles and the other captains who target these fish use 20-25 lb. gear, enabling anglers to crank up the drag and get fish to the boat before they’re overtired.
The rigs Charles and most other guides use for the big reds are also designed to have as little impact on the fish as possible. A modified Carolina rig, the egg sinker (4 oz. on the rigs we were using) slides onto a short 100+ lb. monofilament leader, and is crimped in place just 4″ from the hook, keeping the baited hook in the fish’s mouth and crushers instead of allowing the drum to swallow it as a longer leader can. Charles uses non-offset (he’s adamant about this feature) Owner circle hooks, with 9/0 models getting the nod on our trip.
“Next year, I’m going to a 5 oz. weight and a 3″ leader,” Charles told us as he held up one of the rigs prior to piercing the hook through another mullet chunk and sending it back into the water. “The fish will feel that bigger weight when he nabs it, and he’ll turn and run with it, which helps the circle hook work.”
After releasing Hurley’s fish and resetting our spread, Charles turned, asking me a question with a knowing grin, “What time is it?”
Pulling my phone from my pocket, I noticed it was just a few minute before 6:00. Some low clouds obscured the moon on the horizon, but it had risen almost precisely when Gary’s fish bit.
The baits didn’t stay on the bottom much longer before a rod right in front of me slowly began taking on what turned into a deep bow. Hastily stuffing the piece of beef jerky I’d been eating into my mouth, I pulled the rod from the holder and held it high while the fish began pulling line from the heavy drag. At first, my fish stayed on a straight course, allowing me to hang on and concentrate on not choking on what remained of my jerky.
Seconds after I finished swallowing, however, the drum made a move towards the bow, and I followed, alternately pumping and reeling to gain line on the fish, and watching helpless as the fruits of my labor poured back off the spool when the drum ran. Not only did I suffer the indignity of repeatedly gaining line only to watch twice as much leave the reel, the fish was bent on making me do an awkward dance, weaving in and out of the rods still deployed as my adversary swam a lap around the boat.
Eventually, the battle tide began to turn, and I was steadily gaining on the fish, despite the occasional surface boil that led to a bullish charge, interrupting my progress to take a few yards of line back in Neptune’s direction. Finally, I was able to lead the red into Charles’s waiting hands, and, as with Gary’s, he cradled the fish into the boat for a quick photo session. The magnificent drum was in the low-40″ range and likely around 30 lbs.
Handing me the drum for a quick photo, Charles gingerly took it back after Gary snapped the shutter a few times, and after another brief revival session, the fish swam off vigorously.
As often happens, when the bite starts it didn’t take long for the action to pick back up after we got baits back into the water. Gary and I each hooked another fish in the same size bracket over the next 20 minutes. My second fish performed an act I’ve never seen from a fish before, slinging water high into the air with its tail as it boiled the surface towards the end of its first run. Like our first fish, Gary and I were able to put solid pressure on the reds with the heavy gear, bringing each to the boat in under 10 minutes for a swift release.
Again, we reset baits, and this time a rod on Gary’s side of the boat went down first, but as he fought a fish one of the spinners in front of me bent over as well.
We had a doubleheader, which is always exciting, and Gary and I each struggled with our unseen rivals, following our fish back and forth along the Venture’s starboard gunnel and bow.
Eventually, I saw a triumphant flash of copper as my fish boiled the surface, and I was elated to realize I was fast to another drum.
“I’m just not getting anywhere with this thing,” Gary said behind me as I worked my red closer to the boat.
A few minutes later, Gary was still struggling, but it looked like the tide was turning in his favor. As the fish finally showed itself near the boat, we saw a stout drum, clearly larger than the fish we’d seen already.
“Bring her to me Gary,” Charles said, donning his drum-handling gloves and preparing to boat the beast. When Gary finally pumped the drum within reach, Charles grabbed the fish and brought her over the gunnel. As he and Charles sat on the bow, holding the giant red for some photos, I clicked away, marveling at the fish’s size through the camera lens.
After the photo opportunity, Charles lifted the fish to a ruler attached to the edge of the bow casting platform, and measured it at 47″. As he bent to the water to revive the fish, I wondered aloud how much it might weigh.
“Oh, probably into the 50’s,” Charles replied.
On the strength of five single fish and a double header released after just a few hours fishing, Charles’ “hot and heavy” prediction had surely been realized. With a long drive back to Wilmington ahead of us, we decided to call it an evening and head back into the South River to the boat ramp where we’d launched the Venture, beyond satisfied with the evening.
“Being a great guide isn’t about making sure the people know that you’re a great fisherman,” he said as we tried dropping the lines on a shoal just outside the South River for a final few minutes, “It’s about making sure they have a good time.”
Climbing into Gary’s Explorer for the ride back to Wilmington, Gary and I agreed that Charles wasn’t only a great fisherman, but a great guide.
Capt. Charles Brown is easily one of the most entertaining people I’ve shared a boat with, and the depth of his knowledge of the area’s water, history, and fish combine with his sense of humor to make any downtime in the fishing action melt away (and the only downtime we experienced was when we were waiting to fish).
The Neuse/Pamlico trophy red drum bite begins to slow down towards the end of September, when Charles switches to chasing puppy drum, speckled trout, king and spanish mackerel, and little tunny with light tackle and fly rods. For an action-packed day with a fascinating captain who literally knows the area’s waters like the sun-soaked backs of his hands, call Capt. Charles Brown, of Old Core Sound Guide Service, at (252) 728-2422 to book a trip, or visit his website at www.oldcoresound.com for more information.
