Silver Summer

Anglers don’t have to go all the way to Florida to enjoy thrilling battles with huge tarpon.

Gnats gnawed any exposed skin and their bites burned like red-hot needles as they siphoned blood from arms, face, neck and backs of hands.These mean microscopic critters even borrowed through mesh ball caps and human hair in their hunt for scalp skin to gnaw. Irritating as it was, the sand-gnat bite was a good sign because it showed there wasn’t enough wind to keep them at bay.

Capt. George Beckwith Jr. swatted his arm as he was launching his 23-foot Parker boat at the public ramp at the N.C. 55 Bridge at Oriental.

“Tarpon bite better when there’s a ripple,” he said. “But it’s easier to spot them rolling (on the) surface when it’s slick.”

Tarpon earned the nickname “silver kings” because their scales reflect sunlight like mirrors. When the tarpon bite is hot at Oriental, the otherwise quiet sound-side town earns the nickname, “Silver King Central.”

Some fishermen head out of Oriental to the widest point of the lower Neuse River in smaller craft. But they don’t dare venture far north into Pamlico Sound as do Beckwith and other fishermen with boats big enough for ocean duty. But for the best chance of success, tarpon fishing is a sport measured in nautical miles.

Beckwith, who operates Down East Guide Service, began guiding at the Neuse River and Pamlico Sound when Hurricanes Bertha and Fran dropped the dissolved oxygen content to zero at his former New Bern waters, chasing fish away.

“When I heard of the big red drum and tarpon they were catching near Oriental, I wanted to find out if the fishing would support a charter business,” he said. “I found the best fishing for tarpon and giant red drum in the United States.

“Owen Lupton’s dad caught the first Pamlico tarpon in 1976, and it took a few years for them to invite me into their circle. I’ve been guiding here for 11 years.”

Beckwith spends winters in Costa Rica, where catching several tarpon a day is a common feat. Using experience gained fishing Costa Rican waters has given him and his partner, Capt. Greg Voliva, outstanding success.

During a good year, tarpon season lasts from sometime in June through July. Beckwith’s clients alone land 40 to 60 tarpon each year.

Aboard on this trip in 2005 was Jim Copland, a 65-year-old textile executive from Burlington. Copland has landed many tarpon in Florida, where tarpon fishing is a better-known adventure.

“A tarpon is the most exciting fish to catch,” he said. “It’s like hooking an F-16 jet. Catching a tarpon is awesome, but fishing for them is as boring as watching paint dry.”

Copland has fished in Florida for 15 years. But during Pamlico tarpon season, he now fishes two weeks with Beckwith.

“It’s closer to home and the fishing’s fantastic,” he said. “I’ve put my hands on 98 tarpon and landed 14 at Pamlico in two years.”

Beckwith navigated the Neuse River and out into Pamlico Sound. He went to an area where tarpon had been spotted working a shoal a few days before.

“We’ve seen them here, so we fish here,” he said. “I keep in touch with other fishermen who hook tarpon or see them. Tarpon travel a long way in a day. Sometimes I go over 100 miles in a day because you have to go where there might be fish.”

The first location held a small school of red drum that wasn’t cooperative. Tarpon baits and red drum baits and gear are the same. Beckwith buys mullet, spot or croaker from a local seafood dealer or gets shrimp trawl bycatch for bait.

Beckwith catches tarpon with relatively light tackle for a 100-pound supercharged fish that spends nearly as much time out of the water as in when hooked. He fishes 7-foot Cape Fear Bluewater 20- to 30-pound class spinning rods with 4000 series Shimano or Penn 9500 reels holding 250 yards of 30-pound monofilament. For conventional gear, he uses Cape Fear Man O War rods with Shimano TLD 15 conventional reels spooled with 30-pound mono.

“Cape Fear Rods are light with incredible backbone,” he said. “Gear can take a lot of abuse from cow-nosed rays, which we call ‘brown gliders’ or ‘pancake tarpon.’ A big ray weighs over 20 pounds, and you’ll catch 15 or more for every tarpon.

“You seem to catch fewer rays when you’re catching more tarpon. Maybe the tarpon chase them away or maybe they just beat them to the bait.

“The only good thing rays they help keep you from being bored. They have wicked stingers so you shouldn’t mess around with them unless you know what you’re doing. It’s better to cut the line near the hook.”

Beckwith uses a special leader to subdue tarpon. He ties a 2-foot Bimini twist to double the main line, then uses a no-name sailfish knot to tie the doubled line to a 10-foot, 80-pound wind-on leader. The wind-on leader gives extra protection from the body of the fish and gives something to grab when landing rays.

A 2-ounce egg sinker with a bead on each side is threaded onto the wind-on leader. A 150-pound swivel is tied the wind-on leader and a 3- to 4-foot leader of 120- to 150-pound mono is tied to the other end of the swivel. A hook is tied to the leader and the hook style varies.

Beckwith uses an 8/0 Gamakatsu octopus hook, 9/0 J hook, or up to a 16/0 Mustad circle hook, depending upon the mood of the fish and whether big drum are around.

“You will hook more tarpon with a J hook, but land more with a circle hook,” Beckwith said. “If the big drum are around, you use the bigger circle hook because you don’t want to deep hook one.

“With the circle hook, the tarpon runs, and you just tighten the line. The hook catches in the corner or the tarpon’s mouth, and the fish hooks itself. With the J hook, you have to set the hook hard. Sometimes it still falls out.”

Some of Beckwith’s favorite spots include China Grove, Dawson’s Creek and Oriental. He searches for signs of fish and things that might attract fish, including birds working, baitfish and other tarpon anglers.

When several hours of fishing the shoal proved fruitless and because the wind was getting up, Beckwith got on the radio and received Voliva’s report of landing a tarpon back at Oriental.

The 12-mile ride in the 3-foot wind chop back to Oriental was not nearly as luxurious as the ride across Pamlico’s formerly mirror-like surface on the way out. But in the protected water of the Neuse, the wind slackened and the water slickened.

Beckwith climbed into his 8-foot tower and used the tower controls to motor slowly toward anchored boats scattered over a half-square-mile.

“You don’t approach too close or make a wake when someone’s obviously tarpon fishing,” he said. “They’ve seen a school of fish and anchored ahead of them. Spook the fish, and you’re going to make (other anglers) mad, and they won’t talk to you on the radio again.”

Beckwith circled the hard bottom area off Oriental that usually holds tarpon. He watched for birds, baitfish and breaking tarpon. He didn’t describe how a tarpon looks at first. But once Copland spotted a silvery head poking from the water, he gave an explanation.

“I don’t want clients to imagine they’ve seen a tarpon,” he said. “They’re obvious when they jump a mile away and the sun is on them. They reflect sunlight like mirrors. When they roll, it’s more difficult, but you will still see the silver shine if the sun’s behind you. They say ‘silver,’ (and) they’ve seen tarpon.”

Voliva had landed tarpon within 15 minutes of moonset for two consecutive days, but the action had slowed. He wasn’t seeing any activity, so he told Beckwith over the radio he was moving. Beckwith advised him to stay put because moonset was near.

“When you look for tarpon, you troll a lure behind the boat,” he said. “You keep a rod rigged with a lure to cast to a jumping fish. You stay aware of the tide stage, the wind direction, the moonrise, moonset, sunrise and sunset.

“You try everything to get an edge because on any given day, anything might work or nothing might work. The past couple of days the fish bit at moonset.”

Beckwith anchored where Copland had seen the fish. He cast nine lines in different directions.

“It’s a shotgun pattern to cover as much water as possible,” he said. “You want to get the attention of any tarpon swimming by.”

He cut fish into chunks and tossed them in all directions for chum. Sometimes he uses a meat grinder to create a slick. The wind current carries the scent for miles, and the slick can be spotted far away. He could see a slick emanating from Voliva’s boat several hundred yards upwind from us. Beckwith’s boat was sitting near Voliva’s slick.

“You don’t want to fish a chuck too big,” Beckwith said. “A heavy of bait allows a tarpon to throw the hook because it swings like a pendulum when he tosses his head. I like a fish steak about an inch thick.”

Copland caught a couple of rays. Then, foreshadowing fish pandemonium, Voliva announced a hook-up over the radio. All eyes turned toward his boat to see an angler with a bent rod. An instant later, Beckwith said with a shout, “Fish on!”

The reel’s grad screeched as Copland picked up the rod and set the J hook with four hard jerks. The tarpon skyrocketed like a Polaris missile.

In his first years of tarpon fishing, Beckwith’s clients landed 50 percent of fish that struck. Now, his success rate is 70 percent. The secret is having everyone ready to get to the rod fast and keeping the line tight — but not too tight.

Copland worked to the bow as the tarpon jumped again and again, making huge splashes as it breached and re-entered. Each time the fish jumped, Copland bowed toward the fish to give it lack. He could tell by the relaxing of line tension each time the fish was coming to the surface.

A tarpon can break the line if it’s too tight because it falls back toward the angler and lands on the line. The line is also more directly connected to the fish when it jumps.

When the line’s in the water, the water drag creates a belly with lots of slack. But when the fish is in the air, the connection is direct and puts a lot of pressure on hook, leader and line.

After a dozen jumps, the tired fish came to the boat and Beckwith grabbed the leader. The 70-pound fish was then officially “landed.” But he worked the fish in closer to free the hook and pluck a scale for Copland.

He held the tarpon, washing water back and forth through its gills to revive it before it jumped away and soaked him with a tail splash.

Beckwith wiped his watch crystal to check the time.

“Moonset was at 1:13 and we hooked him at 1:07,” he said.

Beckwith had cleared half the lines during the battle and now baited them to cast again. He didn’t get all the lines in the water before hitting an instant replay.

This tarpon was bigger and fought longer. Yet the end result was the same. Beckwith removed a scale from a 100-pound tarpon.

Most fishermen would have paused to celebrate catching tarpon number 100 weighing 100 pounds. But Copland was back at the rods.

“I nicknamed him ‘Never Enough,’” Beckwith said. “Catching tarpon is so exciting, some fishermen never get enough of it. It’s all I can do to get Jim ashore before dark.”

Copland pulled a line to check a drag setting.

“Now that I’m halfway to 200 tarpon, I can’t wait to catch the next one,” he said.