Ladies of the Evening

A summer evening, moonlight swim, the water full of willing party-goers? It’s not the opening scene from “Jaws”, but a Harkers Island fishing orgy.

Even with the bright illumination of a nearly full moon, Capt. Noah Lynk had to rely upon sound to direct his sons, Tanner and Ethan, and their friend, Cameron Cottle, where to cast their shrimp.

Sometimes there was only the light gurgle of the tide rolling by the pilings of the bridge. But when a school of ladyfish moved through, the loud gulps of slurped shrimp at the surface were an excellent indicator of the direction a cast should be made.

“Tanner, Ethan, Cam,” said Lynk excitedly after a particularly long and loud series of slurps resonated off a wooden bridge bulkhead. “Cast right over there, near the end of the bridge bumper.

“That was a big group. Get your shrimp in there, and you’ll hook up.“

Those directions were all the young fellows needed as they each flipped one of the wiggling crustaceans towards shadows in the moonlight.

Tanner Lynk barely had time to close the bail on his Quantum spinning reel when the drag sang as a ladyfish began to strip line.

“Man, he’s really taking some line,“ the young man said, his voice rising with excitement.

“Get your rod tip up and put some pressure on him to turn him,“ the older Lynk said. “You’ve caught lots of drum and trout, and this ladyfish is just running faster. You’ve got to tire it out the same way.”

As Lynk tried to prepare his son for the jumps to come, the ladyfish launched into the air for the first time.

Everything else around may have been dark, but its silvery sides glistened, reflecting every beam of the moonlight as it gyrated wildly, spraying water droplets while trying to throw the small hook.

There’s nothing else quite like a singing reel and jumping fish to get an angler excited and this moment definitely worked its magic.

Capt Lynk was excited, but the youngsters were jubilant.

Tanner Lynk was justifiably ecstatic and he should have been — he was fighting the first fish and it was putting on quite a show.

The sounds of his battle with this feisty lady, plus his animated comments and the enthusiastic instructions from his dad had animated his brother and friend.

Before the evening ended, everyone on the boat, including the adults, would have their personal fun meters pegged with the wild and crazy action of catching Harkers Island ladyfish.

We experienced one slight lull as the rising tide slowed, stopped, then began to fall. But overall, it was a busy evening under the rising moon.

When we were boarding his Bay Rider 2260 earlier in the evening at Barbour’s Marina at Harkers Island, Capt. Lynk (Noah’s Ark Charters, 252-504-3139, www.noahsarkfishingcharters.com) had promised hot action with the Harkers Island ladies.

A bystander who only caught bits of his excited description may have though he was talking about a different lady of the evening, and wondered why these two men would have three young boys with them. However, the excitement was from an impending date with some Harkers Island ladyfish and they are legal, moral and a whole lot of fun for everyone.

Ladyfish (Elops saurus) have been jokingly described as a mutant cross between tarpon and bonefish. Most anglers who have encountered these ladies of the evening generally agree about their characteristics, although these fish are much closer to the size of bonefish, with most individuals averaging about 1 pound, with 4 pounds being large.

But their most appealing trait is they have the fighting attitude of a tarpon.

With speed comparable to bonefish, ladyfish have the ability to strip line from a reel at an alarming rate. Their lower jaw is hinged like a tarpon, and they have the best jumping ability of any small fish. This combination makes ladyfish a favorite of many light-tackle anglers, especially those who delight in blistering runs and wild acrobatic aerial gyrations.

In his book, “Fishes of the Southeastern United States,” Dr. Charles Manooch wrote, “The ladyfish is a sport fish in many areas along the Southern Atlantic and Gulf coasts of the United States. Although it does not have the reputation of the tarpon or bonefish, it does possess surface-skipping and leaping qualities that engender respect among the anglers fortunate enough to hook it.

“Ecologically, ladyfish are similar to tarpon. They inhabit warm coastal waters, but also thrive in waters that are brackish or completely fresh.”

Manooch also said ladyfish likely are distributed from Rio de Janerio to Massachusetts.

While he couldn’t verify or debate the range, Lynk has seen plenty of them around Harkers Island during July and August. They also quickly bring smiles to the faces of anglers he guides to them.

After loading the baitwell full of frisky live shrimp, we cast off and motored west around Harkers Island into a beautiful sunset. Once we cleared the end of the island, we turned back to the east and eased under the Harkers Island Bridge and into position. Following his father’s instructions, Tanner Lynk slid the anchor over the side and we swung into perfect position just as the full moon was breaking over the eastern horizon.

Shutting off the quiet Yamaha four-stroke outboard, Lynk raised one of the Quantum spinning outfits from the under-gunwale rod-holder. First he cut off the old leader and a few feet of line and tied several feet of 20-pound-test fluorocarbon leader to the new end of the 12-pound-test line.

On the business end of the leader, Lynk simply added a single hook — no weight, no nothing, just a hook. The hook was a red octopus-style Gamakatsu hook in size 4.

Other rigs would receive the same style hook in the same size, plus size 2 and size 6. Lynk said the size 4 hook usually worked well, but the ladyfish could be finicky or vary greatly in size, and he was trying a couple of sizes to see if one would work better.

While he was changing the leaders and hooks on the other outfits, there was a strange splooshing sound between the boat and the bridge bulkhead. Lynk didn’t say anything, but a broad smile began capturing his face.

“I know this won’t be real easy to cast, the shrimp will be the only weight you have on the rig,” Lynk said as he finished re-rigging the last outfit, “but if you make a big exaggerated cast, as opposed to just whipping the tip like you would with a lure or weighted grub, you’ll do okay.

“If they come through tonight as heavily as they do some nights, all you’ll have to do is get (the shrimp and hook) out of the boat. It really can be that good.

“We’ve got a tide change shortly after dark, and the bite usually slows dramatically for a while when the tide goes slack, but it should pick back up once the tide starts moving again.”

The ladyfish must have taken Lynk’s little pep talk as a cue and a couple of minutes after he finished rod rigging, the splooshing sounds began again. It wasn’t quite dark, but the ladyfish must have been hungry.

A big group announced their presence near the bridge bulkhead and that’s when Tanner Lynk scored the first hookup of the night.

As the final daylight faded, the really hot action began. It wasn’t quite frantic, but usually one of the boys was holding a singing reel with a leaping ladyfish at the other end.

These Harkers Island ladies were full-figured, too. Most of these ladies measured 18 to 24 inches and a few approached 30 inches in length.

After an hour or so, the incoming tide began to slow and so did the bite. It was probably a well-timed break. There truly was some heat built up in the spools of the small spinning reels. Most people would have called it a night, but we were gluttons and stayed for more.

The boys were young, full of raw energy and, at this point, running on pure adrenalin. They wanted to meet some more of these wild ladies of the evening and could sleep late the next day.

While the wait approached 45 minutes, it seemed like took forever before the tide started to move again. The boat swung idly at anchor, then finally began settling back toward the bridge as the tide moved faster than a crawl.

With the tide falling, Capt. Lynk knew we’d have to reposition the anchor. It wasn’t so much a matter of not being able to cast, but of being able to land fish once we hooked them.

The boat had swung 180 degrees on the anchor, and we were much closer to the bridge with the current sweeping into the pilings. It was a recipe for lines cut on piling barnacles, and we had fixed that dish a few times already — even while trying not to.

It was only a matter of minutes after we had repositioned when the ladyfish began to reappear. First there was a single sploosh as one gulped a shrimp, then there were two, three, and suddenly the area was alive with ladyfish.

The deal was on again.

For this round of fishing, and at times it did almost seem more like a prize fight than fishing, the moon had risen higher in the sky and provided enough light so we could see the rings left on the water by fish feeding close to the boat.

Quiet may be the rule for most fishing, but this evening was an exception. We were beside a fairly well-traveled bridge and, in addition to the feeding fish, cars and trucks rumbled overhead. Maybe these fish weren’t as sensitive to noise as their cousins. Also, during all the fun, we were getting louder and louder.

Of course the bite was getting hotter and hotter.

At one point the bridge keeper walked out of his office to ask if we were having fun. Once he rounded the corner, he didn’t need to ask. He saw two large ladies in the air and heard another reel screaming as one headed for parts far removed.

He joined in our laughter as soon as he saw how much fun we were having and made a promise to bring a rod and reel the next night.

After watching a while, he headed back inside and laughingly asked us to hold it down so he could hear the baseball game on TV.

Right in the middle of this hot action, a bad premonition suddenly took hold — we were quickly running out of bait. Unfortunately there aren’t too many places, even at Harkers Island, where you can buy live shrimp in the middle of the night.

We worked through the last few shrimp and found even the ones small enough we had passed them by earlier would draw savage strikes from this ravenous school of feeding ladies.

When the live shrimp ran out, we used the few dead ones and then switched to Berkley Gulp Shrimp. The white-and-glow colors drew a few strikes, but other colors weren’t working. Finally, we decided we’d entertained the ladies long enough — or they’d entertained us long enough. We called it a night.

As we were stowing tackle, one of the boys found a small shrimp on the deck. He picked it up, flipped it overboard and said: “Here you go, ladies, this is a freebie, there’s no hook.”

The slurp and growing ring where the small shrimp landed served as a “thank you.”

The boys were asleep the next morning when Lynk and I headed out for work. But we were well-rested; we’d slept well, thoroughly tired after being entertained by the wild antics of a bunch of Harkers Island ladies of the evening.