Finding big redfish can be tricky on even the most perfect of days. Navigating inshore creeks and waterways at the crack of dawn can be perilous to say the least. Oyster beds and shifting underwater sandbars can shred your boat into a pile of kindling, and it takes skills beyond that of the average captain if you want to get to where the fish are while they are still biting. There’s only a handful of Captains that are brave enough to venture into this hostile territory, and on this Reel Time we rode along with one of Charleston’s native dare devils, Capt. Mike Able, Jr. of Able Minded Charters.
Capt. Mike grew up fishing here in the lowcountry and was piloting a boat long before he drove a car. He won his first fishing tournament at 3 years of age and has dedicated a large portion of his life to the sport. In 2005, he started Able Minded Charters, and between that and running Haddrell’s Point Tackle with his father, Capt. Mike Able Sr., Capt. Mike barely gets a day off. Fortunately for us, he loves an angling adventure as much as I do, and Capt. Mike invited my co-publisher, Eddie Hardgrove, and me to ride along with him on a lowcountry inshore excursion.
We had agreed to meet before dawn at the Isle of Palms Marina and look for some top-water action in the creeks along the backside of the island. Eddie and I arrived early to grab a quick bite from the marina beforehand. By the time we came out, coffee in hand, Capt. Mike had launched his 18′ Hewes Bonefisher flats boat and was waiting for us at the dock. Fortune had favored us, and conditions for fishing were perfect.
As we slowly motored out of the marina, Eddie and I both felt the anticipation beginning to build. The water was a mirror and reflected dawn’s first hints of pink and orange, broken only by the horizon of marsh grass and the occasional cutting bait. As soon as we passed the last no wake buoy, Capt. Mike hit the throttle. If you’ve ever fished the back of IOP, you know that it is a puzzle of marsh grass and oyster beds that many anglers wouldn’t try to navigate in the daylight. Capt. Mike is a master of the maze of marsh grass in this region and he never let off the throttle. The Bonefisher cornered through the water at 45 degrees as we negotiated hairpin turns and channels hardly wider than the boat itself. At one point, I caught myself grinding my teeth as we went through a bottleneck that was half as wide as the boat was long, all the while Capt. Mike was steady at the helm and as calm and composed as the water, still full throttle. When he finally throttled down, my heart was still racing and I thought to myself, this is one morning I could have gone without the coffee.
As we glided silently into position, we could see the reds pushing bait along the shore. Eddie was just as excited as I was, and before we had even stopped moving he made his first cast. Capt. Mike smiled and chuckled before telling Ed that we still had a bit to go. We were in skinny water, and the good Captain had climbed upon the platform above the motor to poll us into position. Some people call Capt. Mike “Junior,” but standing on the platform at over six feet tall, there’s nothing junior about him. We had positioned ourselves about 50 yards from the shore and proceeded to cast. I was the first to hook up.
If you’ve never fished topwater before, I strongly suggest you find a way to make it happen. There is an art to it, and the bite doesn’t last long, but when it’s on, there’s nothing like it. On my first cast, I was “walking the dog” when I saw a wake making a beeline straight for my Super Spook Jr. and BAMM! Fish on! ZzzzZZZZzzz!!! My reel screamed as the fatty red pulled line from my Stradic. The give and take went on for several minutes, and finally the rowdy red succumbed to my will. Capt. Mike had lowered himself from his perch, grabbed the net from the hull and helped me land my first South Carolina redfish. After five months of chasing these lowcountry bad boys, it’s hard to describe the feeling of fulfillment I felt at that moment. My moment was short-lived due to Eddie’s carnal grunt of excitement, “Got him!” Ed’s back was arched, rod bent and reel screaming. A large wake torpedoed in front of the boat and was headed into deeper waters. All Eddie could do was keep his line tight. After stripping at least 100 yards of line, the red turned and Ed was able to gain some ground. Capt. Mike hadn’t even set the Boga grips down after helping me with my fish when duty called again, and he patiently awaited Eddie to land his fatty red. Capt. Mike had put us smack-dab in the middle of fish central, and almost every cast produced a fight. My next catch was a dazzling aerialist, and the battle between us was nothing less than spectacular! I can’t help that all the ladies love me, and catching a nice size ladyfish shouldn’t surprise anyone. 
“That’s the poor man’s tarpon,” Capt. Mike said with a grin. The acrobatics of this fish are incredible, and we all enjoyed the display as the fish leapt from the water in attempts to throw the lure. After we released the ladyfish, we moved down the water into another location. 
Capt. Mike joined the action this time and started slinging a gulp shrimp on a 3/8-ounce jig head. We had seen a bonnet head patrolling nearby, and when he approached the boat, Capt. Mike threw almost on top of him. BAMM! Fish on! Being the good Captain (and knowing that Eddie couldn’t catch a cold), he handed off the rod to Eduardo. I had never seen a shark caught with a jig, but there’s a first time for everything; and after some rod-doubling, line-zinging action, Eddie finally muscled the toothy monster to the side of the boat. The sun had risen a little further into the sky when Capt. Mike suggested we go into the creeks and see what we could get. We were steadily catching small trout and redfish, slowly making our way into the interior of the marsh when Eddie’s line started screaming like he had hooked onto a passing semi. Within the confines of the creek, there was only one way for a fish to go…away from the boat. Capt. Mike scrambled to try and keep up, but the fish had bled off over 100 yards of line and had turned the corner. When we finally caught up to where the fish had turned, we found Ed’s lure caught up in the grass. The one that got away is always the biggest fish; and for Eddie, this was no exception. We had all seen the fish before he hit. He came up, swirled at the lure, looked at us, swallowed the bait and left us holding our rods. We proceeded to catch several more small drum and trout, but by this time the sun was getting high and the tide was getting low. This was one of the most fantastic days of fishing I had ever encountered, and I was almost speechless as we motored back through the maze of marsh towards the marina. I can’t think of a better time I’ve had on the water, and my partner in crime, Eddie, would agree with me. If you would like to get some Reel Time with Capt. Mike, please visit him at Haddrell’s Point Tackle or look him up online at www.ablemindedcharters.com.
