DESTIN, Fla. -- Beyond the crashing surf is hundreds of miles of darkness.
There are also fish, the kind of fish that are worth extra effort to catch, and that means kicking away from a pitch-black beach before dawn and pedaling a tiny kayak about 4 miles offshore to meet them.
Brian Teeter, 48, of Little Rock, an ardent kayak angler, was up to the challenge during a recent visit to Grayton Beach, a small community on Florida's Gulf Coast near Destin. Teeter's guide was William Pentel, owner of Fried Fish Excursions. Pentel is one of a small but growing number of fishing guides who specialize in kayak fishing. For adventure and excitement, Teeter said it is peerless.
"Saltwater fishing out of a kayak is like hunting with a recurve versus a rifle," Teeter said. "It's a really neat experience. You're so intimate with the water. You're practically sitting on the surface. Your senses are heightened. It definitely feels more like man versus sea when you're several miles out in a kayak with a big fish on the line."
Teeter began saltwater kayak fishing about eight years ago. He has caught and landed big sharks and other fish, but he always fished close to the shore, usually on the deep side of the second sandbar. On the Gulf Coast, the water is shallow for a couple of hundred yards out to the first sandbar. There, you encounter a wide, deep trough that ends at the second sandbar. On the ocean side of the second sandbar is deep water, and great fishing begins there. You can catch red snapper, amberjack, jack crevalle, cobia, sharks and other near-shore species.
To catch pelagic species such as mahi mahi, king mackerel and billfish, you have to go much farther asea. That requires leaving the beach early so you can reach the hotspot at dawn when fish are active.
Teeter and Pentel used Hobie Outback kayaks. The Outback is a squat, stable kayak propelled by Hobie's patented pedal drive. Because a kayak doesn't have a livewell to keep live bait, Teeter and Pentel had to catch bait en route at various artificial reefs.
"It might be a car bumper that somebody dropped in the gulf 30 years ago," Teeter said. "There are some that look like pyramids. One is called the 'Underwater Museum.' It's real popular for snorkeling and diving. The coordinates are published. You can kayak right to these things and fish them."
Some small reefs are made of tarpaulins and cinderblocks. They are very simple. Cinderblocks are tied to the edge grommets with long lengths of rope. The cinderblocks settle on the bottom, and the tarp rides high like an awning. They attract a lot of baitfish.
"You're so far out there, you think the water must be 200 feet deep, but it's only 40 feet deep," Teeter said. "The tarp rides high on the current. It's elevated, so it's only about 15 to 20 feet deep. When you're on top of one of these things, you can actually see it."
Teeter and Pentel stopped at several reefs to catch baitfish with sabiki rigs. A sabiki contains multiple micro-jigs on a leader, and it's a great way to catch a lot of baitfish quickly. They attached live baitfish to king rig, a wire leader with two treble hooks. The tackle was 3500 series spinning reels with heavy-test braided line.
"We just trolled these things," Teeter said. "You're just trolling along, and then you get a hit. Mahi mahi are spectacular jumpers. It's like they prefer to fight you in the air instead of in the water. They're doing all these crazy acrobatics, and I'm seeing it all at the water level."
Hooking a king mackerel from a kayak is a different fight. Kings are fast, with stamina to burn.
"The big one I caught never surfaced," Teeter said. "The whole time I was wondering if I had a shark. It really pulled. It just wanted to go deep."
Floating far offshore were vast mats of seagrass, which support vast numbers of baitfish. Naturally, the grass attracts a lot of game fish, especially mahi mahi, which gravitate to anything in the water, even floating jugs and pallets. These fish are more substantial than speckled sea trout and red drum. It takes heavy tackle and skill to handle them.
"You've really got to work the drag, and you have to know how to work a drag," Teeter said. "You back-reel when you need to."
Fighting a big fish in deep, pitching water is sort of like flying a helicopter. It requires both hands and feet.
"If a fish cuts hard or runs to the other side of the boat, you have to lean forward and get the tip of the rod out past the bow of the boat and let him get past," Teeter said. "Your body gets contorted. You're twisting and leaning forward.
"If you get a bigger fish, you have to pedal and steer the boat because you don't want a fish pulling you sideways. You have to let go with one hand for a minute and operate the rudder and pedal to get the boat in position, and then resume fighting the fish. There's a lot going on at one time."
Returning to the beach might be the most challenging part of the trip. You burned a ton of calories on the way out, and you burn a ton of calories in four hours of ceaseless pedaling. You've been fighting fish in a contorted position all day while subconsciously adjusting your muscles to the pitch and rise of the swells. Tired and hot, you have to pedal back, but you've got a lot more weight coming back because of all the fish you've caught.
And then you hit the beach.
"A lot of high tides occur in the middle of the day, so the surf is just rolling," Teeter said. "Bringing boats back in is almost as challenging as going out. It's almost like surfing in on a wave. It's very stable 4 miles out, but if you get sideways in a rolling surf, it'll just roll the boat. You'll tear up your fishing rods, your depth finders and all your equipment. You have to jump out and walk it in when get to that first sandbar."
The cost for all that fun is very reasonable. Teeter said Pentel charges $500 for a four-hour trip, but Teeter said it might last longer if the fishing is good.
"He just gets a thrill from catching fish and going after fish," Teeter said. "He furnishes everything. He cleans the fish and vacuum packs them for you."
The hard payment comes the day after.
"My legs were moving for six hours straight," Teeter said. "My legs were spent. I spent the whole next day pretty much just worn out."
