This year, you have a different plan for bagging Caribbean spiny lobsters.
By Pierce Hoover
It's the last week in July, and for thousands of south Florida boaters, that means lobster. The annual two-day Sport Season for Caribbean spiny lobster attracts hordes of divers and snorkelers to the Florida Keys on the final Wednesday and Thursday of the month. They come in every conceivable variety of floating object, often taking to the water with more enthusiasm that experience.
A couple of years ago, you towed a center-console down U.S. 1 and joined in the mayhem. You ended up with a few lobsters, but the long waits at the launch ramp, the crowded restaurants and the traffic jams on the way home made the lobster hunt seem more like work than pleasure. This year, you have a different plan.
Dinner in the Grove
Tuesday morning finds you loading dive equipment and provisions aboard a friend's express cruiser, which is docked behind his canal-front home in Fort Lauderdale. It's just before noon when you cast off and idle east to the Intracoastal. After a quick top-off of the tanks at the Bahia Mar fuel dock, there's plenty of time for a short detour over to the Bahia Cabana (www.bahiacabanaresort.com) for some conch fritters and a blackened dolphin sandwich.
Fortified by lunch, and encouraged by radio reports of calm seas offshore, you decide to take the quick way south. Sure enough, when you clear the Port Everglades sea buoy, the Atlantic resembles a vast liquid meadow, with the afternoon's billowing cumulous clouds reflected in the mirrorlike blue of the water. But this is summer in Florida, and you know there is a good chance that those fluffy clouds may soon balloon into dark thunderheads.
With the diesels delivering a comfortable 25-knot cruise, you should have no problem making Miami's Government Cut before the afternoon rains set in. Sure enough, thanks to your timely midday departure, you are through Government Cut, across the northern end of Biscayne Bay and tied up at Dinner Key Marina by the time the thunder rolls in and the bottom falls out of the clouds. Secure in the cabin, you pop The Sopranos Season 3 in the DVD player and give yourself credit for a freshwater deck rinse.
As is often the case with summer thunderstorms in the Sunshine State, the precipitation dissipates by dinnertime, leaving the air 10 degrees cooler for your stroll into Coconut Grove. You allow yourself a round of libations at the Sandbar (www.sandbargrove.com) but remember that moderation is the key to this evening, because there's no sleeping late in the morning.
An Outside Plan
Your smartphone alarm rouses you a half-hour before dawn. This is when yesterday's packing and preparation really pay off. With dive gear already organized into portable tubs and rigged for the day's adventure, all that's required to get under way is to start the engines and cast off. The sun is just peeking over the horizon as you negotiate the channel through Stiltsville, but small-boat traffic is already heavy on the Bay. You aren't the only ones hoping to snare a tasty prize today, and since the two-day "mini season" actually started just after midnight, some of these crews have already caught their legal limit of lobster during the wee hours of the morning.
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Not to worry, there are plenty of lobsters left for the taking — provided you know where to look. The reefs off Elliott Key are favorites for Miami-based divers and fishermen, but few make the longer run to the portions of Biscayne National Park that lie south of Ajax reef. Those who do often stake out their personal "honey holes" — small ledges or rock piles that they have scouted weeks ahead of the season and hope to find filled with dozens of tasty crustaceans.
But from both personal experience and conversations with veteran crawfish hunters, you know that these bottom dwellers don't always stay put. In fact, the presence of catch-happy humans may actually drive the surviving lobsters out of favorite hiding places and into other makeshift refuges such as small rock piles or sandy depressions in the middle of a sea-grass bed.
Just after 7 a.m., your friend brings back the throttles and points the bow toward Caesar Creek while you stand on the bow, looking for a sandy patch of bottom to drop the anchor. Once the hook is set in an area that doesn't disturb reef or sea grass, it's time to gear up and go to work. You are in possession of a current Florida fishing license with the requisite crayfish endorsement stamp, and attached to your diving BC is a carapace gauge, which will allow you to determine if a lobster is of legal size before you stuff it into your catch bag.
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As you enter the water, you remind yourself that the hunt should be a sporting event, not a frantic grab for anything that crawls. When you do spot a pair of telltale antenna protruding from under a rock or sticking above grassy tendrils, you approach with stealth and a measure of reserve. Frantic grabs can maim but will seldom catch wary lobsters; employing a bit of patience and a few gentle nudges with your "tickle stick" can move the lobster into open water, where you make the grab from above and behind.
With a bit of luck and patience, you'll reach your lobster limit by midday, and can head a few miles offshore to do a bit of trolling on the way home. Who knows, you might end up with a nice tuna or a mahimahi, which would go great on the grill alongside those fresh lobster tails.
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