When scouting for wily tarpon in clear water like this, crouch down, so you don't cast a shadow on passing schools and alert them of your intent.

There was a school of tarpon rolling at 10 o’clock. And one at noon. And one at 3 p.m. Wherever we looked, it was tarpon time; silvery backs backs were popping out of the soft green swells of the Gulf everywhere. We decided to ease in on the 3 o’clock fish because that would put the wind behind us and make for an easier cast. It also meant the trolling motor would get us there without having to start the outboard and risk spooking the fish.

I eased the boat into position while friend Jeff Ward made sure his “dollar” crab was lively and that the circle hook was securely placed in the corner of its shell. The motor put us in the right spot just soon enough; the tarpon were still more than 100 yards out, but we sat directly in their path. I turned off the baitwell pump. These days, it’s always better to make your presentation from a “quiet” boat—one in which not even an electric trolling motor or a baitwell is humming.

The fish rolled and went down, but we could trace their path by the stream of silvery bubbles floating to the surface in the almost-greasy calm.

Jeff whipped out a perfect cast, well ahead of the bubbles, and let his crab swim its way toward destiny as he kept the bail of the big spinning reel open, allowing the microfiber line to trace the sinking bait.

As if on cue, the line made a big jump. Jeff closed the bail and started reeling. He cranked until the rod was pointing down at the water and the line snapped tight.

A tarpon six feet long went straight up, shook its head mightily, touched water for a second and then jumped twice more coming back toward the boat. Jeff cranked up slack again, and as soon as the fish felt pressure, it took off on a smoking run that ended with another couple of greyhound style jumps.

Jeff has wrestled his share of tarpon, and he went to work on this one with all the right tricks. He kept the rodtip close to the water, the pressure on and always pulled directly opposite the direction the fish was trying to swim. In just under 20 minutes, the fish was boatside. I grabbed the lower jaw with my “sticky” orange gloves, let the fish settle down, and then twisted the hook free from the corner of its mouth. A few minutes of recovery time at boatside, a quick look around to make sure there were no bull or hammerhead sharks lurking close waiting for lunch, and I pushed the tarpon out and down, on its way to catch up to the school.

These days, this is a story that’s repeated hundreds of times each morning along Gulf beaches, as the best tarpon fishing in decades continues on a roll here. Most anglers think the reason tarpon fishing seems to be doing so well along the west coast is the tarpon permit required to kill fish, put into place by the state in 1989. Before the $50 tag was required, some 4,000 fish a year were killed, mostly at Boca Grande and Tampa Bay. These days, the kill hovers at barely 100, and all those added fish for all those years have made a huge impact. Since tarpon live at least 30 years, it’s likely the stock of fish is still building steadily, and the average size definitely continues to increase. Fifteen years ago, a 150-pound fish was big news, but today lots of tarpon that size are caught each spring along the Gulf Coast, and a sprinkling of fish that go 30 to 40 pounds heavier are reported.

The prime season gets under way around April 1, or whenever water along the Gulf beaches reaches about 75 degrees. The fish are thick through May and into early June, until the time the afternoon thunderstorms get under way. Most anglers believe the tarpon leave the beaches and head offshore to spawn on new and full moons in June and July, and then return in August to move up inside the larger bays, including Charlotte Harbor and Tampa Bay, where they feed in the “black water” areas until about mid-October before migrating south.

From late April through early June, the waters along the west coast are often mirror-like from dawn until about noon, creating perfect sight-fishing conditions. The sea breeze typically kicks in after lunch, making fishing more difficult—that’s the time when most anglers are ready for a shower and a cold drink.