Alexis Daley with a giant Indian River Lagoon seatrout, released. Surely might have been a contender for IGFA length record, which stands at 86 cm.
August 20, 2025
By Alexis Daley
Have you ever been out on the water later than expected, but skedaddled to avoid mosquitoes or curious alligators? I have, multiple times. But after getting used to standup paddleboarding, one night I took a chance and stayed out late. That one night—and a very memorable catch—turned into multiple nights and for me a new and unique way to sight fish.
First, understand that Florida summer days are brutally hot. Being on a 12-foot paddleboard, I’ll drag my feet or step off to cool myself when I am out on the water. I bring what supplies I can: my Ozark Trail cooler that acts like a dry box for my tackle, phone and camera. My Igloo cooler backpack with multiple drinks and water that I strap to the BOTE HD tackle rack .
Carrying these things in a 90-degree sun can be exhausting. Not every day is worth going out in the middle of the day; it is just too hot! Some fish do not even show themselves in the summer daylight, instead lurking in the cooler shadows of docks. The fish we do encounter in the hottest months tend not to eat at midday, possibly so they can save energy and eat when it cools off. It is common for sessions to start later in the afternoon and end closer to nightfall.
The writer displays a redfish caught in the “Twilight Zone” (left). Her SUP (right), rigged simply and efficiently. Nightime Beauty On many of our coastal waters, there’s an interesting phenomenon that begins when the streetlights turn on. It’s called bioluminescence. What is bioluminescence? There are many examples in the natural world, but in this case it is a chemical reaction between microscopic dinoflagellates or plankton, and comb jellyfish. That’s right; those mushy, clear square jellies found floating along the Indian River Lagoon and Mosquito Lagoon help create bioluminescence. When the plankton and comb jellyfish are disturbed by a push in the water or something like a paddle stroke, it creates a chemical reaction which produces light and appears blue to our eyes. These tiny organisms floating in the water can scarcely be detected by the human eye during the day, but at night they become evident in a spectacular way!
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One hot summer day, I was on my paddleboard a bit later than I expected to be. On my way back to the launch, I began noticing a blue glow in the water. Mullet were shooting like glowing torpedoes from under my board, disturbing the bioluminescence. It was happening to every fish I scared while paddling. A few more strokes, and a much larger fish flared and rocketed away. Then another! This time I could see more definition to the fish. I could not believe what I was seeing: It was redfish swimming away from me, glowing blue. As I slowed my paddle stroke, I stood up from sitting on my cooler to get a better look. I started to see more schools of mullet casually swimming in the dark water.
Numerous thoughts formed in my mind. Would these fish eat after I spooked them? Would they eat at night? I already knew from experience that fish eat at night—I’d witnessed this from fishing off the local bridges. I usually have two rods in my BOTE tackle rack rod holders, and that night I was already rigged on both of my Tsunami Tackle Carbon Shield II rods . I considered which combo to throw. I had no idea how big the fish could be. I could use my medium light rod that is paired with a 2000 sized Tsunami Tackle Evict reel and tied up with a soft-plastic Slayer Inc SST XL on 15-pound braid; or, I could toss a hard plastic Badfish Topwater plug on my heavy rod with a Tsunami Tackle Shield 5000 sized reel lined with 20-pound braid. There was only one way to find out which one would get eaten, and that was to cast!
What happened next was like sight fishing but in the pitch black. Above water, I was only able to see with the small number of streetlights, house lights and the little amount of moonlight peeking from behind clouds. I waited to see another push, a glow, a silhouette move along the shore amongst all of the smaller baitfish. Finally, I saw a fish!
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My first thought was, it’s a redfish. I cast the gold-colored Slayer SST XL but the fish was spooked. I continued to paddle back to the launch and figured that was the last one for the night. But another fish swam into range. It was a little skinnier but had more length to it. Since I had spooked the last fish, I decided to take a different approach. This time, I grabbed the topwater plug and cast a few feet ahead of the fish, hoping to lead the fish and not scare the fish this time.
Like a neon yellow bat falling out of the sky, the plug landed a few feet away from the fish. I gave it a couple twitches to walk the dog. Smack! Right at the surface, I heard the hit but could only see a little of the commotion. I was on! My drag was singing. After the fish gave a good run away from me, it began acting sulky, which is abnormal for a redfish. I fought the fish for a short period of time before it got close to my board.
There I saw the spots, multiple spots, and they were not redfish spots. They were speckled trout spots. The moment this trout surfaced next to the board, I knew I needed to land her as soon as possible. I’d caught lots of decent trout during the day, but knew right away none of my other catches would amount to this one. This fish was way bigger!
A Slayer SST XL soft bait fooled this trout. I grabbed the leader and managed to get the fish onto the deck. I was stunned. The fish appeared to be a third the length of my board and took up all the standing space that I use on the foam padding.
I quickly got a measurement by laying my rod down to compare the fish’s length with a point on my rod. I decided to grab a second measurement with a piece of monofilament leader. My mind was racing. I knew it was the right thing to do: I released this healthy, fat-bellied trout back into the Indian River Lagoon to continue growing and to fight another day. As I watched her swim away, I knew that this fish was going to be hard to top. It really started haunting me.
The next morning, I did a little research on the International Game Fish Association spotted seatrout world records. I learned that two standing records had been caught in my local area, one on the Indian River Lagoon and second on the nearby Mosquito Lagoon. The speckled trout caught on the Mosquito Lagoon was landed by a lady angler on a fly rod with a 6-pound tippet. That fish measured 33 inches and weighed 9 pounds. The second trout was caught on conventional light tackle, by a client on a guide boat in the Indian River; this fish qualified for the All-Tackle Length Record, measuring 86 centimeters, just shy of 34 inches. (As an aside, I like the IGFA’s length records categories, which reward special catches without obliging anglers to kill a fish for formal weigh-in procedures, as was once common in record-fishing.)
After reading the information that I had found, I got my rod and the section of monofilament I had cut to the length of my fish: It measured 34.20 inches.
In the humid darkness of a Florida summer night, I had caught and released a potential world record spotted seatrout. More than that, I had caught the fish in a most unusual manner: Sight-fishing by the light of bioluminescence.
The thrill of that night will stay with me.
This article was featured in the July issue of Florida Sportsman magazine. Click to subscribe .
