Anglers are finding fishing to be as good as ever at Central and other rigs in Breton Sound.
All it took was a phone call to put the gears into motion. Capt. Glenn Sanchez called and suggested that we do a Breton Sound trip. He said the big trout were tearing up live shrimp and croakers at the rigs scattered across the sound, and to sweeten the offer, he said he’d have his son, Capt. Jonathan Sanchez, at the helm.Glenn, a long-time friend, extended the invitation to both me and my brother; and not being one to decline an invitation from an old friend, we put it on the calendar.
We pulled into the parking lot at Breton Sound Marina at 4:30 a.m., and only one other boat was in view. A few fishermen were already gathering at the door of the bait shed, and a sense of expectation was in the air. The weathermen predicted this would be a great day to head outside.
“Slight winds, 8 to 15, and only 1- to 2-foot seas,” they said.
The only troubling thought that nagged at my mind was the big, fat full moon in the sky, and due to that, a tide range that was nearly 2 feet. I remembered the old fisherman’s ditty: “Full moon, fish at noon.” But then I dismissed it because fishermen have all kinds of such ditties that we pull out of our hats anytime we need an excuse for a slow day on the water.
We stowed our gear aboard Sanchez’s 24-foot Blazer Bay, and headed toward the MRGO in the darkness.
Personally, I can’t advise running down the Ship Channel in the dark. I know, lots of people do it, and I’ve done it myself many a time. Maybe my eyes are just older and they don’t seem to see as well in the dark as they used to. Maybe age has simply made me more cautious.
But this morning, with a full moon to light up the sky, I figured our ride down the Ship Channel would be simple and safe. And it would have been if the sky hadn’t been darkened by some ominous clouds that obscured the moon — and only the continual flashes of lightning in the distance provided visibility.
I prayed the weather would stay off our backs, and was glad that younger eyes than mine were at the wheel.
Daylight greeted us just as we passed the protection of the rock jetties, and so did the unexpected 2- to 3-foot seas out of the southeast, along with a steady breeze that had to be 15 knots.
“Change of plans,” Glenn said, and the younger Sanchez pointed the bow toward Bay Eloi.
I didn’t ask what the original destination was because I knew it was one of the many wells and rigs that dot Breton Sound. I knew anglers had been catching loads of really nice trout out there, and whenever the winds and seas cooperated, it was the place to be. Bay Eloi has also been on fire this year, and the specks have been larger than usual.
A short while later, we tried to hide from the seas behind a cement rig, and hoped the trout would be there. Glenn had the fore baitwell loaded with live shrimp, and the aft well chock full of small croakers. If the fish were there, and if they were hungry, we’d catch them.
We loaded up our sliding-sinker rigs, and sent bait to the bottom, anticipating a quick bite. All season long, the best bite has been in the early mornings. Jonathan says the reason he leaves the dock so early is so he can get on that daybreak bite.
“Usually, by 7:30 or so, we already have limits or close to it,” he said. “By the time the other boats start arriving, I’m leaving.”
We fished in all directions without getting as much as a nibble. Ten minutes later, Jonathan pulled the rig hook, and we moved.
“If the fish are there, they’ll bite. If you don’t get a bite after 10 minutes or so, it’s time to move,” he said.
The next stop was a wellhead just a few miles from the cement rig.
“The fish aren’t always at the bigger rigs and structures out here,” he explained. “Often, we find the fish at these smaller wellheads, so don’t ignore them.”
First we anchored and fished toward it. When that proved fruitless, we rig hooked onto it and tried fishing it that way but, again, with no success. I have to admit I was surprised by the lack of action. I’d made two previous trips in my boat into the sound, and both times met with instant success. Just a few days before, I pulled up to a Breton Sound rig, dropped anchor and caught a three-man limit in a couple hours. This lack of action was surprising.
“You know the old saying, ‘A bad day fishing is better than a good day at work?’ Well, it’s not true if you’re a fishing guide,” Jonathan said. “For us, a bad day fishing is a bad day at work.”
I figure it’s a bad day at work for the outdoor writer as well.
We made yet another move to a nearby rig but still didn’t catch a fish. The seas were now a steady 3 feet, but the water, while stained, was not ugly. Jonathan decided to take us to the Dope Boat, which has produced consistently this season.
The problem with fishing the Dope Boat is that you have no place to get out of the wind or seas, and under rough conditions, it can be difficult to anchor in good position to fish it.
It took a couple of tries before we settled into a fishable spot, and we dangled our live bait under corks and on the bottom.
Unfortunately, there’s really not much left of the Dope Boat, at least not above the surface. The majority of the old hulk is either buried in the sand and mud bottom or rusted away. Only a broken piece of bow extends above the surface now, and when that sinks it’ll pose a serious danger to unwary boaters.
But many a fish has been fried that came from the sunken ship, and I’ve had quite a few good days there since it sank some 30 years ago. But I’ve always found it to be one of those fickle spots — either red hot and you load the boat, or ice cold and you catch nothing. And it was much more often cold than hot. But it produces just enough of those good days to keep you trying it.
We fished it for 10 minutes before we got a strike, and Jonathan landed a nice speck. Five minutes later, Glenn caught one. I snagged my bottom rig, and my brother didn’t get a bite. There were a few fish here, but at the slow rate they were biting, it’d take a week to catch a meal.
“Decision time,” the younger Sanchez said, as he looked at his father.
“You’re the captain,” the old man said. “You call it.”
“What are you thinking?” I asked.
“Central,” came the one-word reply.
The area most anglers call Central is spread out over a wide area of large and small rigs. The main Central rig is huge, but more anglers fish the satellite rigs than the main one, which seems to be a breeding ground for pesky ladyfish. The water throughout the area averages between 17 to 20 feet deep, and it is a far ride on a good day, let alone a day with 3-foot seas.
I can’t say I was eager to take what would certainly be a bone-jarring ride, but Central does hold the allure of big fish, diverse fish and plenty of them.
“I’m game if you are,” I said, and off we went.
By the time we were within sight of our first target, a tall L-shaped rig, we saw a big boat already tied off in the sweet spot, right where we wanted to fish.
Usually, the sweet spot at these larger rigs is where all the flow pipes run down off the rig to the bottom. I assume the shell pad is thick right there, and with all the additional structure of pipe and support, the fish tend to congregate there.
“Those guys must be crazy to be out here fishing under these conditions,” I said, as the seas broke over the bow.
The next two rigs we approached also had boats already on them, and Jonathan pointed us to a vacant rig in the distance.
“If there are boats at almost every rig under these conditions on a weekday, it must really be crowded out here on the weekends,” I said.
“It’s crazy,” the younger Sanchez replied. “Boats are everywhere. The first year after Katrina, we had the sound to ourselves. Everybody was concentrating on putting their houses and businesses back together. But now, most of that is done, and more people are back to fishing, and most of the boats we see out here look brand new. I guess when they replaced their boats, they went bigger and better.”
We rig hooked onto the structure, and with only two trout in the box to show for our efforts so far, we sent our baits to the bottom with hopes of better results.
Jonathan says he prefers to hook on with a rig hook because there is so much debris on the bottom.
“If you drop an anchor around these rigs, you might lose it. There are pipes and cables and tons of rig junk to snag on. So I just use a rig hook,” he said.
Almost instantly, we had multiple hookups. These fish pulled hard and deep, and when line started ripping out, I knew we had some big fish on.
Tony, my brother, had a 3-foot shark on his line, while I battled a huge redfish. Glenn caught a Spanish mackerel, and Jonathan put a hefty trout in the boat.
I was spooled with only 12-pound monofilament, so I had to play my big red in, which is a time-consuming process. You really need braided line to horse these big fish around. I made a mental note to re-spool at least one reel with braid before my next venture to the sound.
Tony’s fish bit through his line, and we finally got mine to the boat and in the net. After some quick retying and re-baiting, we sent our rigs back to the bottom, and again had almost instant multiple hookups.
The fish were biting as fast as our baits hit the bottom, and the variety was incredible.
We caught several big redfish, huge black drum, sheepshead, ladyfish, bluefish and sharks, and what we came looking for, speckled trout. And these were no small fish. For a frantic hour or so we had a flurry of activity.
Big fish broke my line several times, but I still managed to boat some hefty specks between hookups with giant reds and drum.
The Sanchezes were wisely spooled with braid, and both managed to horse in numerous specks and reds, while my brother couldn’t get away from the sharks. We were running full throttle — catching, netting, retying, and all the time bouncing up and down like corks in the building sea.
“The conditions are worsening,” Glenn said, pointing at the darkening skies.
The winds had steadily increased, and the seas had to be 3 to 4 feet. We’d been too busy to notice.
“What happened to the 1s to 2s the weatherman predicted,” I quipped.
“Whatever they predict, add them together and you’ll pretty much have it,” Glenn replied. “If they say 8 to 15 knots, add that together and figure it’ll be 23 knots. And when they say 1- to 2-foot seas, figure on 3,” he said.
I know the blustery winds and rough seas have forced many anglers to cancel trips this season, and those cancellations can be very frustrating when you’re a marina operator or charter guide.
But we had a good box of fish, and with conditions rapidly deteriorating and facing a long, rough ride back to the dock, we called it a day.
Jonathan says if you’re sound-bound, pick a day with calmer seas and winds. Bring plenty live bait, both shrimp and croakers, and plenty to drink. Be liberal with the sunscreen, and change baits when they’re dead or dying.
“All the rigs and structures in Breton Sound are good bets,’ he said. “From the small wellheads to the big rigs, all can produce some great numbers of both reds and specks. Get out there this month, and get in on the action while it’s red hot.”
Seems like some sound advice to me.
Capt. Jonathan Sanchez can be reached at (504) 232-6227.