Hunting trophy gag grouper or even a respectable keeper requires patience one moment and brute force the next.
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A day fishing with the James Gang holds special promise because you just never know when you might find him. “James” is a record gag grouper that lives southwest of Pensacola and he has a bounty on his head. There’s no money involved, only braggin’ rights that will undoubtedly be disputed. But what can’t be disputed is the sheer glee that is involved in the hunt for James.
Headed up by the patriarch of the group, Mark Adams, we boarded the 37-foot charterboat Nothin’ Matters, which operates out of Mark’s family business, Daybreak Marina. Our captain was Mark’s son Matt and the rest of the crew consisted of gang members Tony Davis, Matt Lacour, Keith Jenkins, Allen West and me. To be fair, Keith, Allen and I were substitute gang members, filling in for Coach Schippman and Mark’s other two sons, Jake and Luke.
We loaded up the boat at 6 a.m. and prepared for a long ride to the southwest. The one thing you’ll never find on a hunt is a shortage of rods and reels. The last count I made for the trip was 37—rigged and ready—and I didn’t count the ones below deck. I think the pre-trip preparation helps keep your excitement level in check, but even Mark admits you don’t get much sleep the night before a trip.
It was a long ride by most bottom fishing standards, as our first drop was 55 nautical miles from the pass. But we weren’t looking for a box of keepers, we were after James. Keith was the first one down. As the rest of the group readied their rigs with live bait and butterflied northern mackerel, he quickly sent down a heavy bucktail jig. You can always spot the bass fishermen on a trip; they want to get one on artificials before switching to bait. Keith’s line went slack, signaling he’d reached the bottom at 240 feet. After just a few quick and heavy bounces of the rod he was hooked up and grinning. He made short work of this 10- or 12-pound fish and after a few quick pictures, our first gag graced the fish box.
Not to be outdone, Mark loaded up a nice gag on a butterflied bait. Tony Davis joined in the fray next with a healthy keeper, followed by two serious trips to the gunnel. Even heavy bottom gear is no match for a grouper that bests you into the rocks and 150-pound braided line snaps quickly against the pressure of an ex-linebacker. If you’ve never had a fish take you to one knee and pin your wrists to the gunnel, you’re missing out on a very humbling experience.
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Not to be outdone, Mark loaded up a nice gag on a butterflied bait.
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While enjoying the “Tony Show,” we heard Matt Lacour start grunting and turned to see him bowed up on something we hoped was a little better than a “keeper.” Matt’s rod was doubled over and he had the butt tucked neatly under his arm. He didn’t pump this fish up and reel down—that’s a recipe for a lost fish—but instead just kept reeling steadily until the fish was clear of the rocks. Everyone joked with him about hooking into a big triggerfish or a goliath mingo, but we knew it was a good grouper when the fish quit fighting about halfway up in the water column. What we didn’t know was that a fat warsaw would pop up alongside the boat. I had the pleasure of wrestling him into the net. After spending a few hours on ice, this fish still pegged the scales at 41 pounds later that afternoon. It wasn’t James, but his cousin would have to do for this trip.
Dragging big grouper away from their lair isn’t for the tame or tentative.
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We caught eight gags and the big warsaw on our first stop—and even fed a nice scamp to a 6-foot mako shark, but the activity for the rest of the day would slow down. We picked up two more gags in the 15- to 20-pound range at the next rock and some nice scamp came from another spot just a few miles away. Since this trip took place in late March, we had to release two snapper that would have scared the heck out of 16 and 18 pounds. Enough to make a boat full of grown men cry, or at least make sure we noted where they came from in our logbook. It was a great day by any standards and just another day for the James Gang.
Preparing and executing a big-game bottom fishing expedition isn’t much different than your normal bottom bumping, except for gear, location, tackle, bait and techniques. Yeah, it’s completely different! If you want to plan a hunt for James (or even a cousin) try following some tips from the Gang.
Gag grouper brought up from deeper water. This fish is puffed up and unhappy.
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James doesn’t live on a wreck; your best bet is to fish rocks and other natural bottom. While the Gang concentrates on structure southwest of Pensacola, there are plenty of rocks south and southeast as well. A good chart and better bottom machine are critical when plundering deep water from 200 to 320 feet deep. Plotting a route for a 55-mile trip is easy if you just plot a straight line. But our captain didn’t plot a dead-on course. Each trip starts in roughly the same area, but Matt takes a different heading to the grouper rocks each time. Constantly scanning the bottom machine, he makes note of new spots that look promising and often stops on the way in to check them out.
To keep things interesting, we started our trip on a spot that the Gang hadn’t visited in a few years. And, boy, did it pay off. A 200-degree heading this time means he’ll take a 199 or 201 the next. If the folks fishing for a living realize the importance of constantly looking for new spots and exploring, we can all learn from this practice.
If you don’t have a good starting place for your trip, make note of the contour lines on your chart. The tighter these lines are together, the steeper the shelves, ledges and dropoffs. These spots make great stomping grounds for grouper as well as all manner of bottom fish.
You might have noticed the absence of anchoring tips and techniques. Unless you’re in need of a hefty workout, don’t bother. The beauty of this type of fishing is the hunt-and-gather aspect. If after a few drops and drifts over th
e spot, you don’t produce a solid bite, move on to the next one. Drifting baits often will coax that big fella out of his lair and you just got a better shot at landing him.
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I like it when folks ask me, “What’s a good time of year to go grouper fishing?” I can honestly reply, there isn’t a bad month. It’s not as hot in spring and fall, but trips all year have produced 67-, 64-, 56- and 52-pound fish and one month doesn’t work better than any other.
You need to get serious about your gear if you want a chance at landing a trophy gag. We jig with 130-pound braided line and an 80-pound fluorocarbon leader. To handle the task, you’ll need well-built reels with strong drags. High-speed retrieves are awesome when you’re reeling up an 8- or 10-ounce jig a hundred times a day.
For live and dead bait, it’s the same rig generally: 130- or 150-pound braided line on a 6/0-class reel. Tie this to a Caribbean three-way swivel, attaching a 150-pound fluorocarbon leader to the free swivel and take a small piece of light mono and attach to the barrel on the swivel that is attached to your mainline. This rig allows the weight to be in line, while the bait floats down around the weight and avoids twisting your line in such deep water.
Heavy jigs like these are deadly on grouper when fished on braided line.
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Hook size depends on the manufacturer, but circle hooks are a must. Sizes 12/0 to 16/0 generally will do. A good rule of thumb is about the size of a half dollar; just make sure it matches the size of your baits. Spiral-wrapped rods, where the guides start out on top near the reel and gradually migrate around the rod until the tip guide is on the underside, are becoming increasingly popular.
Aircraft carrier Oriskany waits in Pensacola Bay for its last voyage.
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The James Gang often jokes about being spoiled and complacent with trips that only yield several 20-pound fish and no “really big fish.” And they are spoiled, but they never lose sight of what fishing is really about: family, fun and friends. No one epitomizes what’s right about fishing better than the James Gang. So if you see a couple of gray-haired men dancing on the bow of the Nothin’ Matters, while “Family Tradition” blares from the stereo, they might have James in the box, but chances are they just had a good time fishing, giving each other grief and eating cold fried chicken.
The beauty of James is that as soon as someone breaks the current record of 80 pounds, 6 ounces, no one will admit they got him. “It couldn’t be James,” they’ll cry. Which is just another excuse to keep huntin’ him—and thank goodness for that.
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