Matlacha's colorful, small village appeal can't hide its saltwater potential, particularly when snook are on the bite.

A bit of local history, great Florida seafood, a haven for artists and phenomenal fishing: That is Matlacha (pronounced MATT-LA-SHAY); both the waterway, which separates Pine Island from mainland Southwest Florida, and the quirky village clustered near the bridge from Cape Coral to Little Pine Island.

For those of us addicted to pursuing finny creatures, there is no doubt about which aspect of Matlacha is paramount.

Cape Coral Capt. Greg Bowdish, his friend Skip Laney and I met one summer morning at The Sun and the Moon Bed and Breakfast and Fishing Resort for a day of exploring what Bowdish and others term “a phenomenal fishery.”

“It’s very dynamic,” Bowdish says, speaking of the area’s varied geography and hydrography. Interacting influences include the Gulf of Mexico, the Caloosahatchee River, Pine Island Sound and Charlotte Harbor. The pass is dotted with islands and bordered by bayous, bays and coves. Numerous tidal creeks drain in from both sides. Within the waterway, channels, potholes, oyster bars, grassflats, sandbars and mangrove shorelines provide myriad angling environments.

The major factor in the pass’s dynamism is dual tidal flow, both from the north and the south. “I think it has a reputation as a backwater, when in actuality it has more current and more moving water than anywhere else in the area,” Bowdish says. That current is responsible for the huge popularity and stellar angling reputation of the Matlacha Bridge, called “the fishingest bridge in the world.” It was the construction of the bridge in 1927 that soon caused fish shacks and cottages to spring up on West Island and grow into the village of Matlacha.

There are few days or nights of the year when anglers cannot be found at the railing drifting a shrimp or other natural bait in the current. Gear used by some anglers may seem ludicrously heavy (i.e. offshore trolling reels with 100-pound-test line), but it enables anglers to haul good-size snook and reds up over the bridge balustrade without breakoffs. During the peak of tarpon season it can be a wild and crazy place.

One of the first things a first-time visitor notices about Matlacha Pass is its size. For many of us the word “pass” denotes a relatively small sluiceway. But Matlacha—more than 10 miles long and in places nearly two miles wide—is no mere canal or cut. It is a huge expanse of water.

The day Bowdish, Laney and I picked was typical for summer in Southwest Florida: swelteringly hot and humid with thunderstorms threatening. Unfortunately, it also followed closely on the heels of weeks of unconscionably massive water releases from Lake Okeechobee down the Caloosahatchee River by the South Florida Water Management District. Bowdish had warned me about the deleterious effects of the “bad, dark water” on the pass but said we would find fish anyway. “That’ll show you just how good it is,” he said.

One of the things that makes Matlacha so challenging, Bowdish finds, is the tides coming and going from two directions: from Charlotte Harbor around the northern tip of Pine Island and south from Pine Island Sound. He says it sometimes confuses people.

Generally, tides to the south are earlier than to the north. Frequently Bowdish will fish the incoming tide in the southern pass, then move north to get it coming from the opposite direction.

“My best days I’m riding the tide line,” he says. Especially for reds, he likes the early hours of a strong incoming tide.

In addition to the bad water problem, the day we picked did not have a strong midday tide. Generally Bowdish prefers fishing the southern pass, but because water quality improved with distance from the Caloosahatchee, we first headed for the flats and keys to the north.

Cruising along the shoreline of West Island, we had great views of the village’s piebald, kaleidoscopic color scheme: pink, red, chartreuse, purple and a painter’s palette of other hues that give it a cheerful, distinctive look. The houses and other buildings in more muted tones stand out like Plain Janes at a beauty contest.

One of the most appealing things about Matlacha is that it is not—at least not yet—just another Florida waterfront gem wasting away into a malignant Yuppie Condoville. Fishermen, artists, tradesmen and vacation homeowners rub elbows and share the same love for its unpretentious atmosphere. Bowdish hopes that spirit will prevail, but fears encroaching development pressure from nearby Burnt Store Road and Veterans Parkway in Cape Coral.