An Outdoor Happening: When 1,000 Words Are Worth A Great Picture

My fishing partner for almost 30 years, Steve-O as I affectionately call him, and I have spent our best days chasing snook, trout, flounder and redfish on the shallow flats they call home.

Frequently, we followed Steve-O’s fishing barometer which was never very good. One day, it was my turn and we headed to a secret spot—a flat along the west bank of the Indian River Lagoon near Fort Pierce. On the way there, I noticed a large afternoon thunderstorm heading our way.

Ten minutes into wade fishing, over our shoulder to the west, loomed the anvil of a black, ominous cloud. Distant thunder rumbled. A furious east wind blew from the ocean. The torrential downpour would follow next.

On what was going to be my last cast, I hurled my 1⁄8-ounce root beer Cotee jig into the wind. In a true act of fate, Boom! I hooked up.

It all happened so fast. The 8-pound-test monofilament screamed through the guides of my rod. The fish and I were engaged in an epic struggle.

When it surfaced, it was by far the largest spotted seatrout I had ever seen—a true gator.

“The camera! Get a picture!” I yelled to Steve-O as I imagined myself gracing the cover of Florida Sportsman.

Nowadays, everyone’s phone doubles as a camera. But back then, we carried a waterproof, disposable camera. Annoyed, Steve snapped a couple photos.

Before releasing the beast, I paused a moment to revel in the majesty of the slob of a fish. Easily 36 inches in length and at least 15 pounds-plus. The belly on the pig was bulging. In retrospect, it may have been a potential world record.

When I looked back up at Steve-O, he was already halfway to the truck. The storm was upon us. With the utmost respect and care, I released the beast, and we forever parted ways.

A few weeks later, after Steve-O relinquished the camera, I drove to the 1-hour photo studio. I trustingly handed the woman behind the counter the camera explaining how a couple of the photos were very important to me.

“Okay, it’ll be ready in an hour,” she assured me.

So, back to my truck for one excruciating hour. I’d sacrifice 60 minutes of my life in exchange for 15 minutes of fame.

I hurried back to the desk. The woman handed me the packet of photos containing proof of the biggest trout I had ever caught. I eagerly broke open the seal and removed the contents.

Inside were a few photos of Steve-O holding forgettable catches and then another photo that depicted a quarter of a developed image. The image contained a white-capped river and piece of what looked to be my trophy trout’s tail.

I looked at the woman, bewildered. We debated where my photo was until she showed me the negatives. I cursed audibly.

I figured out what went wrong—back then, when the photo processor received a disposable camera, all the photos usually were snapped. The film was wound all the way to the end of the roll. In my case, there were only four pictures on the camera, so because the film in the camera was not wound to its end, opening the camera exposed my two glorious, trophy trout of a lifetime images to the dream-crushing fluorescent lights of the photo department.

Fast forward 10 years. I was wade fishing that same flat one day when a thought came to me, “Maybe I can still make it into Florida Sportsman with this story.”

Sure, the photo proof was lost forever on the fateful day. Nevertheless, after being recanted thousands of times, this fish tale has achieved legendary status.

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Send Us Your Story

If you have had an interesting, exciting or funny experience in the outdoors, tell us about it and send us a picture: It might qualify as “An Outdoor Happening.” If your story is chosen, you’ll receive a Florida Sportsman gift pack worth over $100. Email your story and one or two photos to editor@floridasportsman.com. Or send your story by mail to Outdoor Happening, Florida Sportsman, 3725 SE Ocean Blvd, Suite 202, Stuart, FL 34996.

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• This story was featured in the March 2025 issue of Florida Sportsman magazine. Click to subscribe.

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