Crystal-clear beaches on Florida's southwest coast provide sight-fishing opportunities reminiscent of tropical bonefish flats.

Flats

Breaking away from the shoreline, a fly fisher can find no more exhilarating challenge than stalking snook in shallow water. The fish are at their wariest in water that barely covers their back. Many times it’s been said, if you can see them, they can see you. Moreover, they have a preternatural ability to sense pressure waves in the water. Often they’ll flee from minute disturbances caused by your boat, long before you’re in visual range. On the other hand, snook are all about efficiency, and they don’t expose themselves to danger without reason. If you find them on the flats, you can pretty much count on them feeding.

You can hunt snook in the poling mode, as you would for bonefish, but don’t expect to see tails or wakes or many other surface clues. Mostly snook hunker down and merge with the background. They tend to orient to edges—like the seam along a sandy pothole in a turtlegrass flat, or the shadow line under the mangroves. But sometimes you’ll find them cruising open water.

A “waking” snook is usually a spooked snook, but one that’s idling along making barely a ripple—or sitting still as a log—is an ideal target. How far to lead the fish is a complicated decision involving many factors—not least of which is the need to minimize false-casting. Be prepared to shoot line on your backcast, and know your equipment so that you can measure the correct distance without waving fly line in the fish’s field of vision. A spin- or plug-fisherman has something of an advantage on the wind-up, but when your fly settles without a splash, four feet from a laid-up snook, your odds of connecting go way up.

For the record, sunrise and sunset aren’t the only times when snook feed in shallow water. Tide and the presence of baitfish are the primary triggers, and if you approach cautiously, you can take advantage of high-sun periods for optimal sight-fishing.

Beaches in summer are an excellent place to sight-fish snook. The fish move toward saltwater inlets to spawn May to September; wind and waves are generally calm this time of year; and light-colored sand makes it fairly easy to recognize a snook swimming your way. From a stealth standpoint, beach fishing is nice because you leave behind your greatest liability—your boat. Most often it’s smaller males you find patrolling the suds, but even big breeder females pop out of the inlet now and then for a snack.

Ditches and Water Hazards

Snook hold a peculiar affinity for inland canals and golf course lakes. They seem to thrive in these nutrient-rich, mud-bottom waterways, enjoying an abundance of small mosquitofish, bass fry and other vulnerable edibles. No porpoises, Jet Skis or tower boats to disturb them here; only an incoming hubcap or Titliest now and then. Fresh water is no problem, and snook will slither through the tiniest culverts in their pursuit of the good life. These are places where a plugger might fling more expletives than successful casts. Streamers of freshwater trout proportions—sizes 4, 6 or 8—are often what it takes to connect. Look for “sprays” of tiny minnows near the shoreline, as well as characteristic frothy boils.

Biologists tell us snook don’t fare well north of the freeze line in Florida—around about Cape Canaveral—but evidently they forgot to tell the country club set.

Snook take flies in surprising places, and if 12 inches of water under the noonday summer sun seems odd to you, try booking a weekend at the Amelia Island Plantation in Fernandina Beach. There’s a golf course here a few long drives from the Florida-Georgia line, and near as I can tell the lakes are full of juvenile snook. I caught a half dozen in 30 minutes last summer—reminiscent of the fast action I’ve enjoyed in southern locales.

If your golf game is as good as mine, you’ll relish having a good excuse to hang around those water hazards.

Here’s a list of some of the author’s favorite spots for fly fishing snook in Florida:

Tamiami Trail, U.S. Hwy. 41, around Everglades City and Marco Island exits. Look for the white birds. Pull off on the shoulder and fish the tiniest streamers in your box.

Spillways: Parrot Jungle in Miami; Palm-Aire in Broward; pretty much any that’s got running water and public access.

My in-laws’ seawall on the Caloosahatchee River, North Fort Myers. Always dependable, barring heavy Lake Okeechobee releases.

On the Beach

Sanibel-Captiva Island in early summer. The fish lie right where the water meets the sand, and with moving water bite right on through the midday.

Hutchinson Island, late summer when the glass minnows are on the beach.

Indian River, between Stuart and Fort Pierce. This is the land of the giants. When they talk about catching a “25” or “26” here, they don’t mean inches.

Florida Bay, flats potholes and “moats” around mangrove islands.

Everglades, accessed by skiff under guidance of veteran navigator, via Flamingo or Chokoloskee.

Pretty much any stretch of mangroves with moving tide and no boats pitching live sardines nearby.

St. Lucie River, Stuart.

Loxahatchee River and Jupiter Inlet.

North Biscayne Bay, right in the heart of urban Miami-Dade.

FS