Saving the Savanna

While this blog is focused on redfish, I am going to take a slight detour to discuss my trip to Belize. I think Belize is worthy of a post given the presence of the big three – tarpon, bonefish, and permit.

Although Belize is lauded for its conservation planning – roughly 26% of its land and sea is protected – there remains other areas with ecological and economic significance that are not protected at all and face destruction as the country races to develop through shrimp farms and new hotels.

One important area not protected is known among guides and anglers as the Savanna. Found east of Ambergris Caye, the Savanna is an extensive shallow water area with mud and white sand bottom interspersed with patches of turtle grass. What makes this area unique is its tarpon population. Both resident and migratory tarpon are found on the Savanna. From an angling standpoint, it’s clear waters allows an angler to see cruising tarpon from hundreds of feet away. Unlike the murky mangroves and coastal rivers where tarpon are usually found, the Savanna’s clarity allows an angler to see, prepare, and cast.

Of course catching tarpon isn’t as simple as the scenario I describe. The water’s clarity allows the fish to see the boat, making long casts essential. And given the Savanna’s proximity to San Pedro, the fish see a lot of flies. But sometimes it all comes together and it works out for the angler.

During my meetings with guides from El Pescador, an excellent fishing lodge on Ambergris Caye with world class guides, their number one concern regarding the future of fish and fishing in the area was protecting the Savanna. They fear that as more and more hotels are built on Ambergris Caye, the area’s flats will be impacted by dredging projects or the still prevalent commercial netting operations. Given the unregulated growth that has already resulted in the destruction of mangroves and other flats in the area, their fears are legitimate.

After our meeting I actually caught two tarpon on the Savanna, making their message hit home on a personal level. While my obsession is fly angling, my new cause is protecting the Savanna. So how does one go about creating a marine protected area in a foreign country? 

tarpon on the Savanna

meeting with guides

Ingredients for Success

Redfish populations along the South Carolina coast are considered healthy by both guides and state fisheries officials. This healthy fishery is reflected by the number of guides who make all or part of their living through fishing, and by the presence of the numerous fly shops in coastal towns. I always feel a little better about my chances to see fish if there is a local fly shop. Sure that means more anglers, but if I can buy flies locally, that also means fish.

During my travels, I often think about what specific factors have to exist to create a productive and sustainable fishing landscape. In South Carolina, a combination of public and private efforts have produced the good fishing that exists today. While I'm not going to discuss every factor that has contributed, I do want to prominently mention the state chapter of the Coastal Conservation Association (CCA). CCA in South Carolina is more than a group of men and women who like to fish, although there is no shortage of dedicated anglers. CCA lobbies state politicians regarding fishing regulations, which resulted in a gill net ban as well as re-designating the redfish as a sport fish, as opposed to a commercial species. CCA has also initiated various habitat restoration projects along the coast, including an oyster shell recycling program known as the Topwater Action Campaign. This campaign has established locations around the state where oyster shells are collected and returned to the marsh to begin the cycle of life anew. Lastly, a large and active CCA community helps monitor activities along the coast that might negatively impact the environment. If a new bridge is to be built or a channel dredged, CCA is present to make sure the rules are followed and the marsh is protected.

Having a healthy fishery in a high demand and high use coastal state such as South Carolina doesn't happen by accident. Instead, a healthy fishery exists because of a lot of dedicated anglers do a lot of heavy lifting. In the case of South Carolina, those dedicated anglers make up the CCA.

Sounds on a Low Tide Salt Marsh

Where seemingly navigable, open water existed just a short time ago, black mounds of oyster beds, mud, and spartina grass now sit high and dry. It is amazing to fish the flood tide, then return to the same area on the low tide. The marsh is unrecognizable to a visitor. I kept thinking, did I really fish near this same spot a short time ago? I can't imagine trying to navigate those flats even on the flood tide given all the jagged oyster beds lurking just below surface. According to my guide Chris Wilson, plenty of shiny new flats boats end up with scars from those beds.

But what most stood out was the "sound" of low tide. Sound in this case doesn't refer to wind or waves but the living sounds of the marsh. The living chorus included exposed oyster beds squirting water (a sound reminiscent of squirting water through your front teeth), shrimp making popping sounds as they exploded above the surface  in shallow pools constricted by the tide, hundreds of fiddler crabs making clicking noises as they scurry for their now exposed tunnels, big mullet jumping and splashing for no apparent reason at all, and big redfish and ladyfish crashing edge of the grass gulping down finger mullet and popping shrimp. It was a living, raw gumbo that literally made me hungry.

While life spreads out in the marsh on the flood tide, it gets confined and ultra-competative at low tide with big fish and all their prey forced into small pools, thus the explosion of shrimp and finger mullet as bigger fish pic them off. Although the fish are seemingly more confined, they aren't necessarily easier to catch. There is so much bait available that fish don't need to eat a strange looking bundle of feathers.

Sound isn't a sense I often associate with fly fishing - eyes and brain do most of the work. But during low tide, the sounds of the marsh tell a detailed story all their own.

oyster bed at low tide

 exposed oyster beds at dusk near Charleston