Sheepshead Go Big Time

A 300-boat tournament for sheepshead? You gotta see it to believe it.

By Chris Christian

On a warm Saturday afternoon in late February you could expect to see a few boats hanging around the Mayport jetties. Especially since this was the first nice day after a couple of weeks of unseasonably chill weather, and since this is also a pretty good month to catch sheepshead, which tend to like rocks and other solid structure.

What I didn’t really expect was a literal sea of boats surrounding the rocks. The north side was an unbroken line of anchored craft, while the south side (both inside and outside) looked like you had to take a number to get a spot. That’s a surprising number of boats, but Jeane Bernacki (who was captaining our boat through the throng) wasn’t surprised.

“This is our biggest year so far,” she said of the 2007 event, “and with 291 boats entered this isn’t even half of them. We’ve got boats scattered up and down the First Coast and probably on the nearshore wrecks as well. Sheepshead are real popular today.”

That would qualify as an understatement. Any time you can draw 291 boats for a “local” tournament, you have obviously captured the attention of the local angling community. To do that for a saltwater tournament in February is virtually unheard of. And, with sheepshead as the target? Who would’ve thought.

I guess that just goes to show that the competitive angling spirit is alive and well in Northeast Florida, and certainly validates the adage, “If you build it they will come.” Especially, if you build it as well as the Jacksonville Offshore Sportfishing Club (JOSFC) has built the El Cheapo Sheepshead Tournament.

In fact, since its inception in 2001, as nothing more than a fun event for club members, the El Cheapo has grown into the largest sheepshead tournament in the world.

The logical question is why sheepshead? Frank Joura, who has been the tournament director since 2003, has a logical answer.

“Our club,” Joura said, “has 10 in-house monthly tournaments a year, but we didn’t get started until March. We like to do things for our club members, and non-members, that are simple, inexpensive and fun. Two of our members—Kevin Shivar and Rob Darner—started thinking about what could we do in February.”

“The problem,” Joura continued, “is what do you do in February? What’s biting, what’s good, and what’s close enough to the Mayport ramp that people don’t have to run a long way if the weather is bad and run up big fuel bills?”

The answer Shivar and Darner came up with was sheepshead. And, when you think about what the hot bite is in the Mayport area in February, it was actually a pretty astute idea. Action with every other inshore species in the area can be plagued by cold weather, previous cold weather, or anticipated cold weather. February is not always a great month for Northeast Florida inshore anglers. But, it is a great month for sheepshead, and some of the best fishing in the area is within two miles of the Mayport boat ramp where the JOSFC has its clubhouse.

“Kevin and Rob also came up with the El Cheapo concept,” Joura continued. “During the first two events in 2001 and 2002 the entry fee was just $40 per boat, and the awards were all modest amounts of cash from the entry fees. It was basically just a fun thing to do in February that didn’t cost a lot, and took advantage of a very good nearby fishery.”

The first year (2001) drew 39 boats. In 2002 that number climbed to 50. For 2003 the entry fee was increased to $60, but that didn’t dissuade anybody and 64 boats showed up. The following two years saw 87 and 76 boats respectively.

In 2006, however, that number jumped to 170 entrants, and there was a simple reason for that.

If you’re having a tournament you need to award prizes, and the more you award the more competitors you draw. The early El Cheapo events, with their modest entry fee, were strictly cash prizes. And, in keeping with the El Cheapo philosophy, not a lot. First place was $600, and things dwindled after that. That changed significantly in 2006.

“I’m a general contractor,” Joura explained, “and I deal with a lot of local, non-fishing, businesses on a daily basis. During one stop, a local business owner who had some of his employees fish the tournament in the past told me that he would like to be a part of the event next year. I asked him if he would like to get a merchandise prize together as a sponsor and he was all for it. I thought that was cool, and the light bulb went off. I figured that if he wanted to get involved, other non-fishing businesses might.

“I ended up opening my Rolodex and calling my electricians, plumbers, drywall guys, and everybody else I did business with and asked if they would like to kick in. The response was great. Even though they weren’t fishing businesses, the base of fishermen in Jacksonville is incredible. Tournament organizers are always hammering the fishing-related businesses for prizes, but you can only go to that well so often because there is only so much they can do. But, there are plenty of other businesses that recognize fishing is big and would like to be a part of a reputable annual community event. But, they seldom get asked because they are not ‘fishing-related businesses.’ In 2006 we got all these community concerns on board and our prize structure took a big leap upward, and so did our turnout.”

For 2007, the cash and merchandise prize total for 291 boats was $12,620. That included a boat/motor/trailer for first place and a pair of kayaks for second place. The prizes, however, weren’t just for the top ten finishers.

“We always have a cash prize for the smallest fish,” said Joura. “Not everybody will catch big fish, so why not? And, we also have a kayak division with a cash award for the highest finishing kayak. You’d be amazed how big kayak fishing has gotten in Northeast Florida, so we like to recognize them. With the jetties so close a kayak doesn’t have far to go, so we encourage them to participate. The prize is for the largest kayak-caught fish and it was $250 this year, but they are also still eligible for the overall awards. Lastly, we do three random drawings for a ‘mystery fish’ and pay $100 for each. Everybody who weighs in a fish but didn’t place in the prize structure is up for that. We try to give everybody a chance to win something.”

Toss in a fish fry (with plenty of fresh sheepshead), a merchandise raffle, host the event at a spacious ramp with a clubhouse, and it’s not hard to see why the El Cheapo has become a popular annual event in Jacksonville. For 2008, it will be bigger.

“We’re going to inaugurate a special Youth Division,” Joura noted. “Capt. Don Dingman, who heads up the Hook The Future program, will be joining us in that, and I think 2008 will be our biggest year ever.”

If you build it, they will come. But, sheepshead? Who would’ve thought.

The One That Didn’t Get Away

Every fishing tournament has a story about “the one that got away.” Last year’s El Cheapo winner, Tim Price, has one as well. Fortunately for Price, the fish didn’t make its escape permanent.

“I had my dad, Bob, my 15-year-old son, Chase, and my 9-year-old nephew, Garret, along with me,” Price recounted, “and we headed up to some deeper-water structure off of Fernandina that is known for producing some big sheepshead. Dad, Chase and I were using some fairly heavy spinning gear, but that was a bit too much for Garret to handle so Dad rigged him up with a little baitcaster that he could just drop over the side.”

One doesn’t need to be a fortune teller to guess what happened next.

“Garret got hammered by a real whopper,” Price continued. “It took him right down to his knees and he had more than he could handle. He got the fish up near the boat, but he really didn’t know quite what to do with it and it broke off.”

After catching a few more fish, including one over 10 pounds, Tim Price got a big hit.

“We got that fish up and into the net,” he said, “and I figured it was going to place real high. It was almost 12 pounds. But, as I was putting it into the cooler I noticed a short piece of fresh monofilament leader hanging out of its mouth, and when I looked I found the longshank hook that Dad had rigged up for Garret. That was the fish that had broken off Garret just a short time earlier, so I jokingly thanked Garret for wearing out that big fish enough for me to get it into the boat.”

That doesn’t speak well for the intellectual capacity of species Archosargus probatocephalus, but subsequent events indicate that young Garret may have a fine future in the financial or legal professions.

“He was proud of his role in catching that big fish, and he entertained everybody at the dock with the story,” Price noted. “As we were walking up to the weigh-in scales, however, we heard an announcement over the loudspeaker that because of the large turnout they were going to up the prize money by $100.”

“Without missing a beat,” Price laughed, “he turned to me and said ‘Uncle Timmy, $25 of that is mine for wearing out the fish.’ I guess I’m going to have to negotiate with him in advance next year.”

Earn Your Stripes at Mayport

The mouth of the St. Johns River is legendary for winter sheepshead action. Nearest boat ramp is the Duval County ramp at Mayport Village, on State Route A1A. It’s a well-maintained launch, suitable for boats of all sizes, and free. The ramp is headquarters for the 2008 El Cheapo Sheepshead Tournament, set for Feb. 23.

According to El Cheapo director Frank Joura, most boats anchor close to the rock jetties using a grapnel-style “jetty anchor,” rigged to break away if it gets stuck. Joura said at least two bait and tackle shops in the Mayport area carry these anchors, as well as sinkers, jigs and bait:

B&M Bait and Tackle, 2789 State Road A1A, (904) 249-3933. Located on the way to Mayport ramp. Sells live fiddler crabs, shrimp and mud minnows, as well as frozen clams and other seasonal baits.

Rick’s Bait and Tackle, 224 N. 20th Street, (904) 246-0717. An eighth of a mile from Beach Blvd. boat ramp on Intracoastal Waterway. Sells fiddlers, shrimp, mud minnows, fresh clams in season, and all sorts of frozen baits.

The jetties, anywhere from 3 to 30 feet deep, see the bulk of the fishing action. Wrecks and other structures out to 50 or 60 feet of water are another option, said Joura. Inshore structure—such as range markers and the Dames Point Bridge—also produce some big ’heads. Either way, fresh baits are presented on sliding sinker rigs or jigheads.

Minimum size in Florida state waters is 12 inches, measured from the tip of the snout to the farthest tip of the tail when the tail fins are pinched together. Bag limit is 15 per person.

For more details about the El Cheapo and other local events, visit the Jacksonville Offshore Sport Fishing Club Web site, www.jaxfish.com.

Slammin’ Jacksonville Style

North Florida’s largest city has remarkably good fishing for seatrout, flounder, redfish, bass and these days even tarpon and snook!

By Bob McNally

Sometimes you’re livin’ right, and the fishing gods smile down with unbridled glee.

That’s the way I felt only an hour into what I believed was going to be a tough, cool fishing day in downtown Jacksonville. But charter captain Chris Holleman had all the aces, and he showed his hand fast that early November morning

I met Chris shortly after dawn at the Arlington Boat Ramp, on downtown Jacksonville’s south shore of the St. Johns River. Tugboats, barges, large work boats, and hard-hat workers milled around the area as we launched Chris’ 20-foot skiff into the river, then putted out into the main channel flow.

An unseasonably cool breeze met us in open water, as I looked south toward the nearby spiffy and sparkling city skyline. The Jacksonville Landing stood out prominently along the heart-of-the-city’s north shore. The opposite direction, also on the north side, huge freighters plied in and around shipyards, unloading goods, lingering for maintenance.

It was a far cry from the more picturesque and serene scenes where Florida anglers have learned to look for hot inshore fishing. And that includes me, as I rarely tap the heart of the city, choosing instead inshore areas north, south or east of the main metropolis. In over 30 years of calling Jacksonville home, I’ve not fished “downtown” much.

Big mistake, as I was to learn.

Chris has made a fishing life of breaking the rules, catching tournament fish, good ones, where others rarely cast. As a native of the city, and a Jacksonville officer for the Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission, he knows the river and all its creeks, back bays, sloughs, islands, points and hidey-hole hotspots like a Chokoloskee skiff guide knows the Ten Thousand Islands.

First stop, he said, was for snook, a fish biologists say is indigenous no farther north than Jacksonville. A fish so rare in the area that I’ve caught two in 33 years of fishing the city. And we were going fishing for them on a cold, windy November morning, in a place where snook aren’t suppose to be prolific.

“Oookaaay,” I thought. “This is likely to be a looonngg day of fishing.”

But Chris was enthusiastic and off we zipped across river and bay, creek and channel, and soon he pulled into a residential area where people in cars buzzed across small bridges going to work, and well-heeled residents had homes dotting the river bank. He idled along toward a shoreline where waterfront homes I had admired for decades were scattered.

The big motor shut down, Chris moved to the bow and over went his electric motor.

“Warm winters over the last several years have spared snook from coldwater dieoffs we often get in Jacksonville,” he said as he took aim with a spinning rod at a cluster of flooded tree limbs. “Most of ‘em are 3 to 6 pounds, but there are better fish, much better ones.”

With 15-pound Power Pro, 25-pound fluorocarbon shock leader, and a 4-inch silver Cordell Red Fin, he launched a perfect cast beyond a center-open path in the flooded branches of a treetop. He positioned his rodtip low, and with a snappy, start-and-stop motion, started his retrieve.

I was still digging for tackle, when Chris grunted. I looked up, and his 7-foot spinning rod was bowed tight. Then a 4-pound silver arrow blew from the surface, cartwheeling just right so that I saw the unmistakable lateral line of a snook.

Chris did that five times before I got a lure wet. Five times! He’d already caught 2.5 times the number of snook I’d caught in Jacksonville in over three decades. And it was 7:30 a.m.

Finally I got into the casting and catching, and by 8 o’clock we’d put almost a dozen snook in the boat, releasing them all, of course. Most were less than 6 pounds, but I hooked and lost a heavy fish that did a snook-like job of weaving line and leader through a flooded treetop.

Eventually Chris’ first hotspot slowed, and with warming sunshine, we quickly outboarded up the river, around a few turns, to another similar-looking spot.

“Snook here, but redfish and seatrout, too,” he explained as we shed jackets in the sunshine for improving temperatures. “Good fishing in Jacksonville depends a lot on season of the year, water temperature, bait supply and water clarity. That determines how many and what kind of fish are here, really throughout the entire downtown and residential river area.

“Fall and spring are my favorite times, because it’s possible to catch a lot of different species. Sometimes in a day you can even catch a Jacksonville ‘slam’—snook, seatrout, redfish, flounder, largemouth bass, striped bass and tarpon.”

Chris worked his boat into shoreline casting position and fired a long one to a brush top near a dock. I zipped a plug farther out, to a place where Chris said a sunken shell bar held bait in about six feet of water.

I’d barely engaged the reel and got a strike. Set the hook, and as I turned to tell Chris, saw he was fast to a fish, too. His was another snook; mine a 2-pound seatrout.

And that’s the way it went through that area over the next 45 minutes. We tallied maybe another 10 fish, mostly trout, some snook. Then we were off upriver again, slowing near a low-to-the-water bridge where the river narrowed and riprap lay along the banks. Several businesses were nearby on the road, and as we neared the bridge, a pedestrian was crossing.

He stopped and looked down at us, as I sent a plug near the bank, bringing it out past a bridge piling almost under his feet. A fish struck, so did I, and the pedestrian went gonzo as he watched the action just 20 feet below him.

It was a dogged fight, deep and strong, and shortly I had a 3-pound redfish in hand. I unhooked and released the red, as the pedestrian was babbling and pointing, waving his arms and smiling.

“He must like fishing,” Chris said laughing.

I fired another cast back to the same spot where the redfish hit, and immediately drew another strike.

Less strong, not as deep, and about the time I was wondering if it was another redfish, a 2-pound largemouth bass leaped near the boat. I grinned and the pedestrian was about doing somersaults as he gazed down at our action.

We caught and released another redfish or two, plus a seatrout. Then Chris said it was time to go, and we raced down the river, under bridges, and back out into the open St. Johns. We headed south, toward the heart of the city, but before we got there Chris slowed the boat near a large grassy bank within sight of the Jacksonville Landing.

“Let’s check a minute for seatrout here,” he advised, arcing another cast (this time with a grub jig) toward shore.

I didn’t yet have my fishing rod in hand, and Chris had a trout on, and shortly in the boat. We caught and released several keeper-size seatrout, with the Jacksonville Landing and the Jaguars football stadium in the background; same places where a few years ago rowdy Super Bowl fans prowled by the thousands.

It might not have been remote mangroves far from the ramp, but Chris had abruptly changed my mind about Jacksonville’s urban fishing. And it was only 10 a.m.

A few more seatrout, and I mentioned to Chris that we were well on our way to a Jacksonville “slam.”

“Hmmmmm,” he replied. “I think I know where we have a good chance of catching a few striped bass.”

And off we raced past the Landing, upriver to the CSX railroad bridge and nearby Acosta Bridge over the river. It’s a place smack in the heart of the city, with skyscrapers overhead, cars, trucks and buses rumbling, and business people walking the river banks. I’d fished the bridges area a good bit for stripers, even doing stories for Florida Sportsman about this great fishery over a decade ago.

Chris nosed his boat in tight to bridge abutments, out of the river flow, which was noticeably strong and menacing as it swirled and boiled deep and treacherous.

“No place for a swim,” I kidded as we changed over to heavy grub jigs to flip around bridge pilings.

Stripers are cool-weather fish, and the bridges in and around Jacksonville are consistent spots to catch them. Most weigh 5 to 10 pounds, but they occasionally touch 20 pounds, and Chris has landed some that size.

We tossed jigs near abutments for a few minutes, when finally I sent a lure well upcurrent into a black swirling back eddy. I let the lure sink fast as it drifted down and back quickly to me, then felt a thump as a fish hit the lure. I struck hard, and a heavy fish surged away from the bridge out into open water.

I worked the fish close, Chris dipped the net, and a bright, silver-sided 13-pound striped bass came aboard. That’s when the applause erupted from several people on the Jacksonville River Walk as they’d been watching the seesaw battle from only 50 yards away.

“We keep getting closer to that Jacksonville slam,” I mentioned to Chris.

“Let’s go catch a flounder,” he said convincingly, as he pulled the electric motor up, and moved to the boat’s console.

Fifteen minutes later he eased the skiff toward the river’s north shore near a long dock structure that stretched far out into the river. It was concrete, and not well maintained, with big chunks of rubble lying half-in, half-out of the water. It was a flounder haven if there ever was one.

Using grub jigs we scoured the dock from shore to deep tip, then around the structure, casting from the opposite side. Nothing, not a bump.

“Couple more casts and we’ll try another spot,” Chris said thoughtfully, as he suddenly snapped his rodtip up, burying the jig barb in a strong fish.

Shortly he had a 3-pound flounder in the boat, and I knew we were but one species shy of a monumental Jacksonville slam.

“All we need is a tarpon, and that would really top the day, especially this time of year, in a city that rarely gives up silver kings,” I said to Chris.

We ran into the Trout River, located on the northwest side of Jacksonville. There we entered a feeder creek I knew well. It is the only spot in the river where I’ve purposefully fished for snook, and caught them. But I’d never seen tarpon there, especially in November.

The sun was high and bright, the weather warmer, and Chris was still running the big engine, when I saw several chrome flashes a few hundred yards ahead. Tarpon, for sure, I told him. He smiled, shut off the big motor, and we eased in with the electric. Along the way we passed flooded brush tops, casting to them with plugs. Almost every place there should have been a snook, there was. We caught and lost maybe a half dozen linesiders, as 10- to 50-pound tarpon rolled around the creek surface.

We threw everything at them—jigs, diving plugs, surface chuggers, all except bait. Finally, Chris had a strike on a deeply worked jig, the fish surged away pulling line, and then it was off.

We cast, and cast, and cast, and cast some more. And while the abundant tarpon were visible, they wouldn’t hit.

“I never thought I’d trade a snook for tarpon in Jacksonville,” I lamented to Chris as we eased out of the feeder creek and back toward the boat ramp.

It was early afternoon, and still plenty light and warm for fishing, but other business beckoned, so we called it a day.

“We came close to the ultimate Jacksonville slam,” I said to Chris.

“Yep, almost had it,” he replied. “Maybe next time.”

“Count on it.”

FS