Come and take a look at our new website for GFI anglers at garyezzo.netCarolina Fishing from Grandpa’s Dock is a little corner of my world. I am by no means an expert or guide, nor do I aspire to those titles but ever since my first fishing experience as a four year old, the anticipation, hope and sometimes the thrill of the catch has never left me. I realize our new site will attract those intrigued by the rich variety of sport fishing along the

South Carolina salt water marshes and fresh water ponds and streams. Most of my fishing is done from our back yard and dock on the

Wando River (or shrimping in

Bulls Bay.) While I can’t promise a posting every day or every week, I am hoping to keep the site relatively current and active. We’ll see how well I do. Take your time, browse through the various articles and photos. Have fun and enjoy the reports. Here’s is one late afternoon adventure from my journal.

An Afternoon on the

Wando RiverIt’s In two hours darkness will descend on the Low Country. I launched the 12-foot Skiff below the old bridge off Highway 41. Except for a gentle lapping of water against the bow, the afternoon offered no sound or movement. The 15-horse, Yamaha four-stroke started on two pulls and I maneuvered the skiff away from the dock allowing the tide to take control of my speed. Drifting north my eyes focused on the shore above the launch looking for surface movement near the marsh-grass. This trick was applying a lesson learned from one more experienced than myself. Surface movement in the fall usually means something underneath is moving bait fish. Speckle trout push small mullet to the surface causing the water to come alive in a chorus line of tiny splashes.

On the edge of the marsh I noticed a marvelous white egret stood on one leg, the other foot suspended in mid-air as the creature paused in stride, then moved forward. The bird stopped, it’s head cocked to one side searching for any small water creature. Its’ long, sharp, yellow beak poised at an awkward angle was now ready to thrust instantly at an unwary fish or shrimp. Then without warning the bird stopped and for whatever reason, pushed with his legs and the great white wings began to spread lifting the creature majestically in to the air. Now it became a thing of beauty and grace as it’s broad wings stretched slowly and rhythmically drawing its body upward and across the open expanse of water. This is nature at its best.

Across the little bay a small grass island separated from the shore by a narrow channel offered promise. I put the motor in gear. My neighbor Roy showed me this place last year. A small outcropping of oyster beds forms a ridge near the island’s neck creating a perfect place for an ambush. The boat slowly moved between the island and the shore when I saw a hint of movement just above the protruding edge of marsh grass. Pushing the red kill switch, the motor went silent and I began to drift while my eyes focused on the area where some oyster beds met the marsh grass. There was no further sign and I was just ready to push on when a few tall blades of grass swayed slightly as if in a breeze. But there was no breeze. Maybe a fluttering wren? My father taught me not to let my anxiousness defeat my patience.

I sensed the next motion more than I actually saw it. The sun had just lifted above a passing cloud when the smooth water surface surrounding the blades vibrated again. Movement, possibly a dorsal fin touching the surface above the oyster bed. Red drum will do that. Then the water trembled with excitement as a school of mullet scampered in unison across the surface. Something moved them which meant it was time for me to move.

Slowly maneuvering the skiff into position I began to troll toward the neck of the island, slowly twitching my Bass Pro light weight to the rhythm of the ebbing tide. The boat slid quietly passed the strike zone trailing a dark brown curled-tailed grub. I twitch the rod, paused a few seconds and twitched again. The skiff continued its forward movement in stealth form. Then it happened! Read what happens next at GaryEzzo.net “An Afternoon on the

Wando River”