Redfish have always fascinated me. For an Idahoan, opportunities to chase these saltwater predators are few and far between. But when a recent family and friends vacation took me to the Carolina coast, I had a feeling our paths would cross again.
October is a magnificent time to be in the Carolinas. We enjoyed playing on the beach, mini golfing, biking around Bald Head Island, and soaking up plenty of warm, Atlantic sun. I also brought my Toadfish inshore travel rod (which I highly recommend) and used it to catch a dozen species from the beaches and inlets, including weakfish, flounder, croaker, whiting, and pompano. But to find the trophy redfish, we needed a boat.
Enter Captain Tim DeSano of Tideline Charters. I always call around before hiring a guide to find the right vibe, and Captain Tim delivered. He was an awesome, friendly angler with the local expertise we needed to find our quarry. My friend Caleb and I met Tim at the local marina at zero-dark-thirty, and by sunrise, we were a half mile off the beach, looking for bait.
The bait in this case was menhaden: saltwater baitfish that migrate up the Carolina coast in droves. The glimmer of small fish flicking the surface and gangs of pelicans dive-bombing the schools, were the telltale signs we were looking for. Captain Tim’s second throw with a cast net was so full, the three of us could barely haul it aboard. Two menhaden went on circle hooks attached to stout spinning rods. The rest went in the live well for later.
Our mission was to find areas where the bait was schooled tightly and launch our baits directly into the fray. When our two-ounce sinkers put our menhaden below the rest of the school, they’d be prime targets for huge “bull” redfish—males over 30 inches long that feast on menhaden as they make their own migratory run up the coastline.
About 20 minutes in, Caleb’s line went tight. This was his first time tangling with a redfish, and it did not disappoint. These giants possess unique strength, bolstered by massive heads they thrash around with nerve-wracking violence. But our knots held up, and Caleb soon landed a 38-inch bull—an awesome catch anywhere, and an incredible one for a first-ever redfish. “You’re ruined now!” I teased as we sent his fish back overboard.
Within minutes, I felt the telltale thump of a redfish pinning my bait to the bottom. Another red drum rodeo ensued, and I felt grateful that in this nearshore beach setting, there wasn’t any heavy structure to contend with. After a few minutes of drag-burning action, Caleb scooped up my fish, and the net strained under its weight. At exactly 40 inches long, this fish qualified for North Carolina’s citation red drum program, reserved for the rare giants that reach the coveted 40-inch mark.
Within 30 minutes, we had boated two epic, personal-best redfish. Not a bad morning’s work!
Caleb boated another 37-inch bull before a huge pod of dolphins put a dent in our plans. Dolphins will team up and prey on redfish, even the biggest ones, so our quarry was spooked. Still, we kept at it through mid-afternoon and added a few more noteworthy catches. I landed a nice speckled trout and a flounder in the saltwater creeks, completing the “Inshore Slam” of Carolina’s three most coveted tidal species. We added a four-foot sandbar shark to the tally, and I finished the day with a nice bull redfish that went just over 30 inches—our smallest of the day, but still a beauty. Caleb and I each lost a big fish of unknown species, too. You can’t win them all, but it was an awesome day of fishing that neither of us will soon forget.
And we’re already looking forward to our next opportunity to run with the bulls. Tight lines!