When the Motor Quits, the Real Fishing Begins
I thought my day was ruined when my shear pin snapped three miles out, but a slow paddle back through the marsh turned into the best scouting session I’ve had in years.
Well folks, let me tell you, sometimes the Good Lord has a funny way of making sure you slow down and actually look at what you’re doing. Last Tuesday, I was out on the marsh with my trusty little 6hp outboard, pushing through the back channels looking for some tailing redfish. I was humming along, feeling pretty good about the tide, when—SNAP. Just like that, the prop stopped spinning. I pulled up the motor, fiddled around, and sure enough, that shear pin was history. Now, I didn’t have a spare on board—I know, I know, don’t preach to the choir—so I had two choices: push with the sand spear, or pick up that paddle and start working. I chose the paddle. Three miles is a long way when you’re pushing a skiff against a light breeze, but something funny happened about a quarter-mile into my trek. Because I wasn't buzzing through the water at full throttle, I started seeing things I usually fly right past. I noticed a subtle flicker of bronze near a patch of spartina grass that I’ve passed without a second thought. I got quiet—real quiet—and just let the current nudge me along. I saw a school of reds, big ones, pushing bait right up into the shallows where the water couldn’t have been more than six inches deep. If that motor had been running, I would have spooked them before I even knew they were there. I spent the next two hours just drifting and poling, marking spots on my Stringer app and taking mental notes of the bottom structure that I’d previously ignored. By the time I finally drifted back to the boat ramp, my shoulders were burning and my hands were sore, but my heart was full. I had found three new honey holes that I’m convinced will hold fish for the rest of the season. Sometimes, a little bit of bad luck is just the universe’s way of forcing you to pay attention. Next time your motor dies, don't just reach for the cellphone—reach for the paddle and keep your eyes peeled. You might just find that the best part of your fishing trip is the one you didn't plan for. Tight lines, everybody.