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My first encounter with large spanish mackerel left quite an impression.It was back many years ago. Mark Hilzim, current Sportsman VP of Sales and Marketing, and I took our wives down to South Seas Plantation Resort, located on Captiva Island in Southwest Florida. The resort is adjacent to Redfish Pass, a spot notorious for double-digit snook.
On that first morning, we headed to the pass armed with baitcast outfits rigged with Johnson Sprite spoons.
We arrived to teams of baitfish skipping the water just past the dropoff. Hoping it was snook, I heaved out the spoon, and began the retreive.
It all happened so quickly. First, a bone-jarring strike, the rod doubled, line peeled off the reel — all within an instant.
And faster than you can say “boo-yah,” the line went slack. Gone was the fish, and the spoon.
According to Hilzim, this had Spanish written all over it. Taking his advice, I tied on a section of wire for a bite tippet, then another spoon.
This time, no bites. After some frustration, the wire tippet came off. Once again, a hard strike followed by line blistering off the reel, and then slack.
Call me a glutton for punishment, but I just kept tying on spoons and feeding them to the Spanish. Soon I was down to the last spoon in my box.
Hilzim just shook his head, thinking for sure I’d lost my mind.
But this time the line didn’t go slack. Instead it melted off the reel and almost down to the spool. When I finally beached the denizen in the white coral sand, his green and silver metallic body glistening in the sun, it was apparent this was not only a large and powerful fish, but one of great beauty.
For this reason, he deserved a name. Just as redfish are the Spottail Elvis and sunfish are Gobbule, Spanish mackerel were henceforth the “El Diablo.”
Back then, large Spanish were rare due to overfishing. Thanks to regulations on the commercial fishery, and strict limits for recreational anglers, the species is fully recovered.
Here in Louisiana, the limit is 15 per day over the 12-inch fork length limit.
Spanish are highly migratory, and found in our nearshore waters mostly in late summer. In fact, nine of the state’s top 10 fly-rod listings for this species were caught from July through September. The exception is the top entry, a 7.4 pounder, caught by Dave Coignet in October, 2000.
Like a finned James Dean, Spanish grow fast, live fast and die early. The average size at age one is over a foot. Any Spanish older than 3 years is eligible for Social Security.
Most diablos I catch these days are over 16 inches. Although smaller fish are more numerous, I simply make it a habit to avoid them.
A few years back while fly fishing in the surf at Fort Pickens near Pensacola, I landed one as big as they get, almost 30 inches long. He struck a Cinco Shrimp about 40 feet out, and to the left of where I was wading.
Within seconds, I saw the fish catapult out the water a hundred yards away and to my right. Meantime, the backing was still entering the water at the spot where I’d hooked the fish. Now that’s acceleration!
Which brings me to the top five reasons why El Diablo makes my “Best Fly Rod Fishes” list (drum roll please..).
First, he’s a hydrodynamic marvel, streamlined like a missile and capable of speeds in excess of 22 miles per hour. Unlike a bonefish, which strikes slowly then speeds off, a Spanish slashes at full speed. And unlike bones or reds, he jumps! Having a reel with a smooth disc drag and low startup inertia is a must.
Second, Spanish like clear water and as we all know, clear water favors fly fishing. There have been many occasions where I’ve caught Spanish on fly rod while lurecasters next to me were chunking in vain.
Speaking of flies, since diablos love to eat anchovies, can you guess which fly I often use? Is it: a clouser minnow? An epoxy minnow? A Gummie Fly? If you said “all of the above,” you are correct!
Third reason Spanish make my list: Once you locate a school, action can be non-stop. Just look for boiling water.
Fourth reason: You don’t need a big boat to catch Spanish. They can be caught off rock jetties, piers and bridges. Although described as a nearshore species, they often move up into bays. I’ve even caught them in brackish Lake Ponchartrain.
The fifth and best reason: El Diablo will test your skills as a saltwater fly angler. Unlike other inshore species, finger stripping won’t cut it with Spanish. They simply move too fast and won’t attack anything much slower than they are.
One technique is to put the rod under your arm, and make huge strips with both hands. Another technique is to make two or three long strips with the rod tip near the water, then lift the rod slowly when bringing the hand back to the grip. The key is to always keep the line moving … fast!
Another skill you need to master is line management. Just like with their cousins the king macks, any entanglement of the fly line sitting at your feet simply can’t be corrected fast enough. Just wave bye-bye to Mr. Diablo!
Wireless isn’t just applicable to phones and laptops. It also applies to bite tippets for Spanish. That trip to Captiva was just the first of many on-the-water lessons that taught me this.
There are two solutions to catching these toothy critters without using wire. One is to use flies tied toward the bend of the hook. The Whitlock Baitfish qualifies, and happens to be a favorite of macks as well.
The second solution is to create a bite tippet using a double line of 30- or 40-pound fluorocarbon. Even this won’t hold up to the biggest Spanish. But let’s face it — you hope every fish hooked happens to be in the lip.
Digging with pliers into that mouth poses risks to your fingers.
