Speck-ulative Reds

A fishing trip for speckled trout at Harkers Island becomes a day filled with slot-size drum.

The small egg sinker and frisky mud minnow I had just cast lightly splashed into the running water of the creek where it compressed into an eddy around the submerged oyster bar.The water was only about 2-feet deep at the end of the bar, and there was no need to give the rig time to sink, so I quickly flipped the bail on the small Shimano Stradic spinner closed and began to reel the slack out of the line. As the line came tight, I felt the tell-tale bump-bump of the little egg sinker easing across the bottom, and then the bumping stopped.

When the bumping stopped, my reflexes took over, and I leaned back strongly and quickly to set the hook before whatever was on the other end could swallow it. The rod stayed bent, even bending a little deeper, and the little reel started singing as the 8-pound-test Ande Back Country mono rolled off of it with increasing speed.

“Don’t worry,” Captain Noah Lynk said in a firm but reassuring manner. “Let him take some line and wear himself out a bit. This is a creek, and there aren’t but so many places he can go. He’ll get tired in a few minutes.”

One glance around reassured me of this and, with the tide already over halfway out, he certainly wasn’t going to be sprinting back up into the marsh grass. The fish surged into the current and headed into the narrow mouth of a smaller creek that connected into the one we were on. Then it quickly reversed itself and raced past the boat as the rolling current gave it afterburners headed downstream.

“I believe you’ve hooked another drum, and this one is probably going to be a little larger than the ones we’ve been seeing so far this morning,” Lynk said. “When they run against the tide like that, they are usually a little better fish than their counterparts. It’s about time for it to turn and allow you to lead it back up here, but expect another surge or two before it tires enough to handle it.”

Almost as if it had been listening, the drum relaxed a little and allowed me to slowly work it back up alongside the boat. Then, as I was about to relax a little, it made a series of three little runs. Finally it tired enough to be led to the boat, handled and allowed Lynk to remove the hook. Before he eased it back over for release, we snapped a quick picture then admired its “shoulders,” the thickness of its body, and the neon-blue coloring in its tail.

Lynk squatted and leaned over the low side of the boat and cradled the stocky drum in his hands. After rocking it back and forth in the water a few times, it recovered and gave his sunglasses a parting splash with a powerful stroke of its fluorescent tail.

“They aren’t the trout we were hoping for, but they sure are fun,” Lynk said as he pulled out a paper towel to wipe his sun glasses. “I hope you’re having as much fun as I am.”

I had to admit I was having fun, maybe even more than I had hoped for on this excursion around Harkers Island.

The morning had begun much earlier, especially for me, as I had driven to Harkers Island from Oak Island after waking at 0-dark-30 that morning. True to his word, Lynk, who operates Noah’s Ark Charters (252-342-6911, www.noahsarkfishingcharters.com) out of Barbour’s Marina, was waiting on me with his boat launched and ready to go. After a quick visit inside the marina to pick up a snack and drink for the trip, I handed my camera bag to him, stepped aboard, and we were off.

As we motored around Harkers Island that morning, Lynk explained we would be looking for speckled trout and puppy drum in the North River and its marshes. The North River runs between Beaufort and the “Down East” Carteret County communities of Bettie, Otway and Straits.

“During the winter I sometimes fish at the Middle Marshes, but during the summer it gets crowded and fished heavily,” Lynk said. “During this time of year I concentrate more on the North River and the waters behind Harkers Island. There isn’t a lot of open deep water in this area, and you have to know where you are going or you could be waiting on the next high tide to get out. Needless to say, it doesn’t see as much boat traffic or as many fishermen, and the fish aren’t nearly as spooky.”

“This morning I thought we would start at a place called the Sheepshead Marsh,” Lynk said. “It is basically the outside edge of the North River marshes but is surrounded by shallow bars, and you have to know your way to be able to get in. However, once we get in, we will be fishing some pockets that might be 6- to 8-feet deep, even on low tide.”

The only piece of electronics on Lynk’s 19-foot Shoal Runner was a fish-finder. It quickly became apparent he knew where we were going and wasn’t using it to verify the shallows but to be certain of the edges of the holes.

As we neared Sheepshead Marsh, Lynk stood briefly, scanned the water and said we were still high enough on the tide there would be enough water to head pretty much directly in. Even with his years of experience, he slowed and motored slowly toward a creek mouth that hadn’t been visible from the channel.

“We’re probably going to bump just a little right up here, but it won’t be much, and we’ll ease right across into deeper water,” Lynk said as we neared the creek mouth. “Then we’ll go around this little point and anchor right inside that opening.”

We touched lightly a few seconds later, and then I watched the markings on the fish-finder show us dropping back into about 5 feet of water. As we eased around the small point, we slid past a couple of rapidly-appearing oyster rocks and maneuvered up to a section of cut bank. Lynk switched off the Suzuki outboard, moved forward and grabbed the anchor, then stepped off the boat to place the anchor.

“This little cut is sort of narrow, but often produces well early in the falling tide,” he said, noting the questioning look on my face. “I like to keep the anchor out of the water, so it is one less obstacle we have to deal with. We may see trout, drum and flounder in this cut, and with it so small, they often react wildly to being hooked.”

Stepping onto the bow, I looked across the marsh to see a system of intertwining creeks, cuts and ponds. A trout boiled at the opening of a smaller creek about 15 yards ahead.

Slipping a 3-inch mud minnow on the hook, Lynk handed me a 6 ½-foot lightweight Shimano Clarus rod, with Shimano Stradic spinning reel, and instructed me to cast just up current of the boil. I got pretty close to the boil, but either the trout had moved or wasn’t interested in a mud minnow.

Several casts later, Lynk hooked up with a taker but had his line clipped by the sharp edge of an oyster rock. It would be about 15 minutes later before either of us connected again, and this time it was Lynk with a marginal flounder. All I had to show at this time was a couple of crabs and watching a small trout follow my bait back to the boat, but not taking it.

“They just aren’t here today,” Lynk said. “Let’s move and go somewhere where there are hungry fish.”

Lynk easily maneuvered us out the creek, around several bars and into another small opening that hadn’t been visible from the channel. Unfortunately it didn’t produce and shortly we moved again.

As we entered the third creek, I just had a feeling it would be the charm. This creek was fed by several smaller creeks, and we were anchored in 7 feet of water with similar depth in front and behind us and a shallow bar funneling the water falling out of the marsh to our side of the creek. Again Lynk positioned the boat alongside a section of deep cut bank and stepped over into the marsh to position the anchor.

On his first cast, Lynk connected with a taker. The fish ran across the creek and then turned downstream toward the boat. It would be the first of many redfish that day.

As Lynk battled the feisty red, I got my camera out and ready. When the fish tired, he scooped it up, and I snapped a bunch of photos.

Before the fish weakened too much, Lynk leaned over the side and shuffled him to revive him as I continued to take pictures. Once the drum revived, Lynk picked up his outfit, cast and was connected again before I put the camera down. He did this three times before I was able to get a bait ready and join in the fray.

As I joined the action, Lynk connected with a keeper trout.

“OK,” I thought. “This is about to get interesting.”

That thought was correct, but not quite as I had imagined. The action darn near became frantic, but it wasn’t trout. That was the last trout we saw that day, but we weren’t complaining. A school of summer drum had settled in the eddy off the oyster rock and was pouncing on our baits on almost every cast.

Many times we went four or five casts in a row with a taker each time. There were also multiple times we were fighting doubles. The few times either of us lost a fish, it was not a concern, as we usually connected again on the next cast.

The action was so hot I filled a complete Memory Stick on my camera and still caught all the fish I could care to. We both drank hot drinks after taking a sip and setting it down to cast and hooking a fish and forgetting it. Lunch would have only been possible by keeping our baits out of the water.

We caught so many fish I questioned Lynk about the possibility of catching some of the fish repeatedly. It was a good pain, but my right arm was just a little sore the next day.

Most of these drum were smaller slot-size fish (18-inch minimum to 27-inch maximum). There were a few that might have been as small as 16 inches and a few that might have been as large as 23 inches, but most were 18 to 20 inches. They were definitely in a feeding mood and represented themselves well when hooked.

Lynk uses two basic rigs to catch drum and trout, one a small jighead tied directly to the line with the bait attached through both lips to the hook of the jig.

The other rig is what I would call a localized Texas rig. A Texas rig uses an egg sinker pinned to a leader a short distance above the hook. Lynk’s rig was a ¼-ounce egg sinker wrapped twice through with the leader, so it could be adjusted to different distances above the hook.

On his Texas rig, Lynk used a red octopus-style hook that varied with the size of the bait and fish from a size 6 to a 1/0. He said sometimes he found them in the Gamakatsu brand and sometimes in others, but the kirbed shank and turned-down eye were the characteristics he was looking for. The bait is also attached to this hook through both lips.

Lynk said he preferred mud minnows, mullet minnows or soft-plastic baits. He said shrimp were also a good bait, but they attracted everything, and you would spend most of your time catching and unhooking bait thieves. He said pinfish and such had to be really hungry before they tried to catch and eat a mud minnow or mullet minnow.

With this rig Lynk cast up current of where he thought fish are holding and allowed the current to bring the bait back by the fish in a normal presentation. He said that deeper water or stronger currents just required a little heavier sinker.

I can attest this style of fishing worked well for us that day. What I was more impressed with was the time Lynk obviously spent exploring these waters to find his way through them and locate the holes the fish preferred.

Spoken like a true fisherman, Lynk said the time spent exploring can be almost as much fun as the time spent fishing later. Then he proudly pulled out a picture of his son, Tanner, with a drum the boy could barely hold.

“This is one of my exploring buddies,” he proudly said, and it all came into perspective.

Lynk said he enjoys spending time with his family, and it shows in his fishing. I sure was treated to a trip I’ll remember for a long time.

I hope he takes his boys fishing again soon and finds somewhere else I need to visit.