Skiff anglers, get showered by a thrashing fish.

Hearing John’s words, Tracy made her way back to the bow, planted her feet and got serious. She slowly pulled the fish

off the bottom with short, six-inch rod pumps. Most of the time her rodtip stayed bowed into the water. She would pull up, get a half crank on the reel and repeat the procedure time and time again.

Her persistence paid off. Ten minutes later, we caught our first good glimpse of Tracy’s fish. Unfortunately it saw us at the same time and headed straight back down. It was a good fish, though John and I didn’t dare to make a weight guesstimate. On the hookup we thought the fish was around 30 pounds, yet this cobia felt much bigger. Either it was way heavier than we thought, or it had a lot of heart. Maybe both.

Again, Tracy wrestled the cobia up from the bottom. She deftly led it into gaff range. John performed the honors and brought the fish into the boat. Only this cobia wasn’t done yet. It twisted off the gaff and sent us scurrying for high ground, while it thrashed and beat its way across the deck.

The fish finally slowed enough for me to get a good grip and slip it into the box. Now we knew why this fish served up so much trouble. It was short and very thick, with plenty of muscle. After rinsing the deck, I took a quick weight and saw it pulled my Boga Grip to almost 40 pounds.

“All right. Let’s get this show on the road. It’s my turn to cast,” I called to my two triumphant anglers.

I was primed, pumped, and ready for more. We’d found a patch of bottom—a brown zone—where the rays were holding, and it would surely produce more fish in the weeks ahead.

The northernmost zone I like to target is approximately 20 miles upcoast from St. Augustine Inlet, where steep coquina beaches blend into white sugar sand near Ponte Vedra. Heading south, the next zone occurs right at St. Augustine Inlet, where coquina beaches dominate northern stretches and fine white sugar sand is on the south side. The next zone is at Matanzas Inlet, which has white sand on the north side and coquina beaches south. From Matanzas, it is 25 miles to the next transition zone in Ormond Beach.

Before the first migrating cobia begin to show, I spend a day running this stretch of coast scouting out changes from last season and new possibilities. Currents may uncover new bottom structure, such as ridges of hard coquina rock, a composite of the same shelly material you see on shore. Although we have four zones within easy reach, I focus most of my efforts on the north zone, Ponte Vedra, and the south zone, at Ormond Beach. All four areas can and do produce fish, but these two see the least fishing pressure.

What makes these zones better than surrounding waters? To be honest, I am not exactly sure. However, several seasons back, Bill Carr, a Whitney Lab marine scientist, filled me full of scientific jargon relating to the where and whys of manta ray migration. Remember, cobia, along this stretch of coastline, often travel with manta rays. His studies indicated that certain types of plankton, called dinoflagellates, occur in great numbers along these coastal transition zones. Manta rays often hold for days, sometimes even weeks at a time in these areas.

After you’ve located a productive area, the most critical part of the hunt is the approach. Successful cobia fishing entails more than finding manta rays. Boat positioning and proper lure presentation are key.

Last year I witnessed quite a few anglers and crews defeat themselves after spotting a manta ray. Some would charge the ray, often running wide open until 15 or 20 feet away, pull back the throttle and attempt to cast. This approach does work sometimes, but not very often. The weirdest approach I saw was from fishermen in a “go-fast” hull. This captain gunned his twin 250-horsepower outboards straight over the top of the ray while his anglers dropped their baits, at 40-plus miles per hour, as they whizzed over their target. I never did see them hook any cobia, though it would have been quite a spectacle, I’m sure.

Such run-and-gun antics usually accomplish only one thing: They put the ray down. When mantas get skittish from too much boat traffic, most sound immediately whenever a boat comes close. Use a little common sense when approaching a ray. It pays.

Manta rays are sensitive to rpm changes, especially well into cobia season. After spotting a ray, determine which way it is heading and approach it at steady rpm—somewhere around the 1,000 mark is good. Overtaking a ray with the sun at your back allows for maximum visibility. I instruct anglers on my boat to cast at their first opportunity and keep a close eye on their lure or bait to prevent hooking the ray. The object is, after all, casting to cobia that swim beside, on top of, and under these mantas.

I use artificial lures over 90 percent of the time when casting to cobia. Artificials offer several advantages. Bright colors, chartreuse in particular, are easy to see several feet below the surface, which makes it easier to work your lure and observe a strike. Another reason for using lures is quick presentation. With an artificial, you won’t have to divert your eyes from your target to dig around in the baitwell and hook up a livie.

There are many types of lures suitable for cobia fishing. Bucktail jigs, shadtail jigs and surface chuggers are time-proven designs. Choose lures and jigheads with strong hooks, size 4/0 and larger. Avoid trebles. Cobia are hard-fighting fish. A lure with treble hooks is often jacked hard during battle, enough so that many times treble hooks tear loose. Stick with single-hook lures or switch out treble hooks.

Once you get the hang of working a ray, it becomes second nature. Dedication and practice are all it takes to perfect this technique, which definitely results in more fish.

FS