Evening Permit

Evening Permit

So I’ve been trying crack the Mullet problem lately. I have been wanting to catch Mugil Cephalus (Mullet) without chum for ages now. Using bread, it’s easy. But I want one without using a starchy chum and a ‘Bread Fly’. I’ve been playing with floating shrimps, blood worms and variety of educated guesses but the Muggles have been difficult. There has been little success. But this is not about Mullet…
It is about one of my other piscatine infatuations: Permit.
Evening shades of gold.

The uttering of that name sends shivers down the necks of any serious saltwater flyfisherman and a trophy specimen is on the top 3 bucket list of the same group. I’ve been lucky enough to catch several fair sized specimens over the years but have been chasing my trophy for a long time now. And, well, I am still waiting. He will come though!

But to prevent this post from becoming convoluted, let me get back to point. This evening I grabbed the #3 and few
experimental Muggle flies and heading down the road to see if I could convince one of them eat my latest guesswork of fur and feather. In the pocket I had a couple of blood worm imitations, a small shrimpish looking fly, a minuscule crab and, as always, a few Crazy Charlies (one should never leave home without at least a couple of Charlies in the box).  Mom and Dad, who are visiting at the moment, came for the short and where heading down the beach for a swim.

Chasing Mullet

As things go, I had barely told them to enjoy their swim when Dad shouted that there was a permit swimming toward me. I  asked him if he was sure. He told to stop being ridiculous and catch the damn thing!

“Our” Permit, by-the-way, is actually called a Pompano (Trachinotus blochii) and is the Indian Ocean’s version (and close cousin) of Trachinotus Falcatus – the famous Permit of the Western Atlantic.

Now he wasn’t a big Permit but neither is my little trout rod. And well, a permit is a permit so I very hurriedly changed the San Juan looking blood worm that the Muggles had be so willingly kicking to the curb to a dark brown Crazy Charlie and began hoping.

Getting ahead of the fish was made easy by the sea wall that I was fishing from and a flick of the old 3 weight put the Charlie just far enough ahead of the Permit for him see it sink but that close that he got spooked by the big plop.

… but you know you want one!

After that it just seemed too easy. The little beauty
sipped up the Charlie, I set the hook and he gave me a great rev on my trusty old #3. A couple of photos courtesy of Mom and my little Permit was sent back
to grow into my trophy.

Not a terrible evening at all!

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