The twenty hour journey to and fro... Pensacola. (Long Post)

The night before for me (and many others) was possessed by the feverishly stuffed faces, small-talk, and laughs of a typical Thanksgiving evening. I was also preoccupied in school work and preparation for what would be the longest trip I had ever taken to go fishing.

That early morning arrived with a white pickup truck, my mom, and Hammer. It was about half past seven and I was on the road again; little did I know, the drive up would be so long. It lead me to boredom, discomfort, and a few pictures.

My perspective of most of the drive.

The roads were winding.

The roads were long.

...seemingly endless as I recall.

I was only to be intrigued by things I had never seen before, symbols that told me I wasn't in Miami anymore.

Surprisingly, we made it to an end, which in turn was a new beginning. The road diet wasn't so filling at this time around with the weather getting nippy. So we headed in for something warm.

The celery wasn't quite cutting it

The drinks were good but there was still something missing.

Maybe it was hot desert.

HOO is that?

A Friday night in town, where were we bound?

To a waterfall?

Too cold for the snowbird that traveled North for the winter.

One look here and I knew what would come of this night.

After some situation, planning, and preparation, our stuff was nice and cozy at a hotel over yonder and it was only a short walk with rod and bait in hand. The great winds of the North made deployment easier than ever and even a luxury.

It was as easy as:

1

2

3

My first sandbar shark landed, about 6ft.

The night grew bitter cold and even I threw in the towel after an unappreciated dip into super cold water to get that shark on its way again. The sun rose to signal the next day and it wasn't long before Hammer and I snuck off in hopes for the morning run of bonita...

(The site of an orderly pier was incredible, an empty railing where I could actually land a fish without throwing rods out of my way. )

...instead all we could find were these guys and sheepshead (I caught one of each).

Met up with some new friends.

And so we told Pensacola pier farewell and adieu.

The landscape on the way to our next destination was otherworldly.

This is, the famed Emerald coast, another land of the giants.

The beach here is so endless it starts to fade into the optical illusion we call a mirage.

It didn't take long to recognize one of the best sharkers of the Emerald Coast was nearby.

With that being said, the man behind the wheel maneuvered around lines and got each of us out into the deep.

It screamed drag, but each hook set was felt empty. what could it be?

My biggest Atlantic Sharpnose.

This picture didn't do any justice. It surely beat the current IGFA record of 16lbs.

The shark fishermen draws tourists like magnets.

My biggest shark from Navarre pier made off quick on the end of big hook.

Not too much later Earnie hooked up.

It was big but it got off.

Brett Castro was also on the scene and his rod seemed to be the golden ticket because the sharks were always on his baits.

The first real shark up was a decent spinner. It came in fairly easy on the 14/0 but the wrong motion and a glimpse of opportunity turned into a spurt under the pier with Earnie alone man-powering the great apex predator with 1000lb mono in hand. He was having more fun than he was struggling with the nice shark.

A team effort pulled the 6ft 6inch spinner up with ease, tagged, and back down again.

Another shark Brett "caught"... Had a 4-5ft tiger straight up and down with me on leader and it spit the hook.

Leave it to that Brett again to bring some heat into the cold night.

It pulled drag off 3 times and came up looking like a super fat bull shark. What is it?

One of the biggest sandbar sharks that even Earnie has ever seen.

About 8ft and 200lbs, we tried to get it up on the rope between the three of us but we knew that fish wasn't coming over the rail. So the cable was clipped and the shark was lowered down for a speedy and easy rope release. That was it for that night, so we headed back home.

To break up the monotony of a drive on the way home we made quite a few stops, as it were necessary with only one eligible driver between the three of us.

We made a stop at one of my favorite West coast bridges

Three bluefish, two sheepshead, and no sign of solid mackerel told us it was time to skedaddle.

Forgot to mention, earlier in the day before we got to Navarre pier a 6-8ft Gulf Sturgeon swam by.