Just lagoons or trophy waters?
I was at a get-together a while back and got into a conversation with a 14-year-old boy who told me he loves to fish, but because his dad wasn’t much of a fisherman, he had no place to go wet a line. Something about that conversation struck a deep chord in me because, when I was his age, fishing was all I could think about, with the possible exception of a girl or two — or three. Luckily, I had a dad who loved to fish, but even with that, there were a lot of days when I was on my own with my old, beat-up Schwinn bicycle. I might add that back then there were only a handful of kids on Hilton Head, so fishing took the place of companionship in my own little world.
Sadly, shortly after my conversation with that kid, a friend emailed me pictures from a huge fish kill in one of the island’s lagoons. The pictures of hundreds of dead, bloated fish — including flounder, trout, and redfish of every size — floating on the surface really got my goat. I know it has been hot as blazes, but for years I have begged developments to manage their brackish lagoon systems better, to no avail. From what I have gathered from numerous phone calls, they view the brackish lagoons as nothing more than catch basins for rain, not realizing that, if properly managed with a scheduled flow of fresh seawater, their “ponds” would become any angler’s dream for trophy fish.
When Hilton Head was originally developed, it was a model for excellence in environmental planning. Sadly, that plan has taken a back seat to higher-density development, as well as more lucrative sports such as golf. Considering the volume of fertilizers, pesticides, and other chemicals used to keep golf courses nice and green, much of that runoff goes straight into many of these local developments’ lagoons. I have suggested leaving natural buffer zones of native marsh grass where golf courses meet the water to help filter some of these pollutants, along with a regular saltwater-flush schedule to keep the water cleaner, better oxygenated, and cooler, especially during the hot summer months. Many of these same lagoons were what made me the avid angler I am today.
When I was 6 years old and could regularly hook into a 4-foot-long redfish, I guarantee it pretty much sealed the deal that I would grow up with a deep-seated love of fishing. Sea Pines, along with other developments, should take a hard look at places such as Palmetto Dunes, Spring Island, and The Ford Plantation in Georgia, which realize the benefits of being good stewards of their waters and, as an added bonus, are renowned for truly world-class fishing.
Even with the touch of memory loss that comes with age, I can pretty much tell you what lives in every single lagoon on Hilton Head. Some hold 14-pound largemouth bass and 5-pound crappie, while others, more brackish, have fish so big they could eat a small child. I kid you not because I have hooked and landed redfish more than 50 inches long, black drum weighing more than 45 pounds, tarpon pushing 40 pounds, trout in the 8- to 11-pound range, and flounder pushing 14 pounds. Most of the time, I practice catch-and-release fishing in the lagoons so that maybe some kid from Ohio will latch onto one of these bruisers and go home with a story and pictures that might inspire him to fish for the rest of his days.
Thankfully, I no longer have to ride that old Schwinn bike loaded down with rods and buckets of water to go lagoon fishing, but every so often I get the itch to head back to my roots. Using big live shrimp or finger mullet for bait and nothing but ultralight spinning tackle, I usually head to the 14-mile-long lagoon system at Palmetto Dunes and sight-fish for redfish or, if there are big tides, hit some of my tried-and-true, super-secret honey holes in other developments. Thanks to my good friend Trent Malphrus, owner of Palmetto Lagoon Charters, I am able to fish that lagoon system in style aboard his fully decked-out electric charter boat. You would think that, since I have done this type of fishing since I was knee-high to a grasshopper, the level of excitement that comes with going lagoon fishing would be somewhat diminished, but each and every time I still get excited. Why? Because you never know what you might encounter in these amazing ecosystems.
One day in particular a few years ago stands out in my memory. It was one of those unseasonably warm days like we have been having lately. The wind was dead calm, and I had lucked into some shrimp while throwing my cast net that were the size of freshwater prawns. It was as if the fishing gods had made sure the day was picture-perfect. My pseudo-nephew, Byron Sewell, and I had just loaded the boat in Palmetto Dunes and pulled away from the dock when, not 50 yards away, something big busted through a school of mullet basking in the sun on a shallow sandbar. Edging toward the commotion, there they were — redfish, and lots of them. These weren’t small redfish, either; I really don’t think there was a fish in that group that was less than 23 inches long. It was like watching a fishing show as the tightly grouped school of mullet swam in lazy circles over a white-sand bottom, and every so often six or eight monster reds would rise from the depths along the edge of the sandbar and scatter the mullet.
Using my lightest outfit, I hooked one of the shrimp through its horn and waited. It was at most five minutes before a big redfish edged toward the mullet, and I pitched the shrimp about 4 feet in front of him. That shrimp didn’t last three seconds before that brute exploded on it. It’s one thing to catch redfish you don’t see, but when you pitch to one that is right there in front of you, it is a totally different experience. After inhaling my offering, that fish took off like a runaway train. I felt like Captain Ahab as he took us on a Nantucket sleigh ride, pulling the boat along with powerful sweeps of his tail. After 10 minutes and numerous heart-stopping moments as that fish headed for any and all obstructions, I landed it. With a picture and a kiss on the nose — much like fishing personality Roland Martin is known for — I released him for the next person to battle.
In all, Byron and I caught about 10 redfish that trip, all while sight-casting. All I could think was, how could anybody not thoroughly enjoy this type of fishing? Lagoon fishing is a blast, and you never know what you might hook into. It may be a redfish, a trout, or a fish less common to the area, such as a tarpon, snook, or snapper. Once the fish get going in these lagoons, I guarantee you’ll never look at them the same way again.
Collins Doughtie is a 60-year resident of the Lowcountry, is a sportsman, graphic artist, and lover of nature. collinsdoughtie@icloud.com
