I worked the barbless Clouser free from the mouth of the third straight toothy Spanish mackerel and wondered why on earth this place was named for tarpon when it seemed much more appropriate to name it after this salty rocket that I cradled in my hands.
I stood on tiny sand spit at the mouth of southwest Florida’s Tarpon Bay on an incoming tide, casting the red and black Clouser that Florida fly fishing legend Norm Zeigler recommended to me the day before into the rushing current. It was a lot like throwing streamers at big browns on the Henry’s Fork.
Only, on the Henry’s Fork, you don’t need watch the water around your ankles for big jellyfish cruising along with current. One brush with these bulbous mucous-masses will ruin your day, for sure.