Just 70 miles north of Tampa — a quick day trip from several Livano communities —lies Homosassa, a quiet Gulf Coast town where Florida’s wild spirit and fishing heritage thrive. Here, in the clear, spring-fed waters that define the Nature Coast, generations of anglers have chased one of sport fishing’s most legendary prizes: the tarpon.
One of author Monte Burke’s first memories of fly fishing is being with his grandfather, who taught him how to catch bream and bass—nothing big, but it was enough to make Burke a fly fisherman for life. Over the years he graduated to more and bigger species until he met another seminal figure in his fly-fishing life: Steve Huff, a saltwater fishing guide who took Burke out fishing for tarpon.
“Literally from the moment I saw one, I was addicted,” says Burke. “And then the first time I hooked one, it changed my life, because I knew this was something I wanted to continue doing.”
Tarpon, nicknamed “the silver kings,” are an ancient species thought to have been around for 50 million years. They can grow up to eight feet long, weigh up to 280 pounds, and have lung-like tissue in their swim bladders; they’re often seen popping out of the water to gulp the air. And when hooked, they put up a legendary fight, earning the respect of anglers who know they’re in for a battle.
While tarpon live in warm coastal waters throughout the Atlantic Ocean, including the Gulf of Mexico, the small village of Homosassa, Fla. has become known as one of the best places to fish for them.
After he took up tarpon fishing, Burke started to hear stories about Homosassa. He spent about a year researching a period in the late 1970s and ‘80s when some of country’s top fly fishermen, men like Al Pflueger, Lefty Kreh, and Stu Apte, came here to chase the world record for tarpon fishing in the place they’d seen bigger fish than anywhere else. His research became a book: Lords of the Fly: Madness, Obsession and the Hunt for the World Record Tarpon, which captures the unique experience of tarpon fishing, the color of the town, and the fly fishermen themselves.
While Burke’s book ends in the 1980s, the lure of tarpon fishing in Homosassa hasn’t. Word continues to spread, attracting anglers from all over the world who come for the prime conditions of the area—spring-fed waters that maintain ideal temperatures year-round, predictable migration patterns, and shallow waters.
Florida native John Astrab was 14 when he first went tarpon fishing just south of Homosassa. “You see a flash, and all of a sudden your line is taut, and as soon as they’re hooked they usually jump straight up into the air. It’s majestic,” Astrab says. “Usually the reel starts screaming, the fish starts pulling a lot of line, and you let them go on their run until they start to slow down.”
He says an angler might reel it in within 10 to 15 minutes, or “you can fight that fish for an hour or longer” and still lose. Astrab estimates the success rate with an average-sized tarpon to be about 50 percent, but that goes down the bigger the fish. “It’s a battle of wills,” he says.
Captain Greg DeVault is a fourth-generation Florida fisherman and seasoned guide who’s been running fishing charters on Florida’s west coast for more than 20 years. He sees a unique attraction of tarpon fishing here. “It’s like hunting in the water,” DeVault says. “You see the fish, you approach them, you make the cast, and you can see the fish eat your lure or bait because the water in Homosassa is crystal clear and relatively shallow.” He also appreciates the etiquette honored on these waters. “Anglers generally give each other plenty of room, so you often feel like you’re out on your own little island with the fish.”
The quiet, laid-back culture on the water reflects the town itself. Homosassa has a population of 1,876, with a median age of 64. “Except for the fishing, teenagers find it very boring,” jokes Michele Watson, who owns Homosassa Rock and Mulch, a landscaping company, with her husband Chris. But what teenagers find lacking is often what most appeals to the residents, visitors, and people coming from bigger cities to buy fishing cabins or second homes.
The part known as Old Homosassa is removed from any major thoroughfares, and “a lot of people come from Tampa, Clearwater, and further south because they like the quiet of the town, and everybody’s so nice and polite,” Watson says. “There are no big condos or shopping developments.” In her 48 years living here, she’s seen the town grow from one traffic light to a whopping 10, but she says the available land in Homosassa is already spoken for and doesn’t foresee major developers coming in anytime soon. Seafood restaurants, many directly on the water, make up a large portion of business here, including favorites like The Freezer, which literally served as a seafood freezer before being converted to a restaurant; you’ll often see bikers coming in from out of town just for the steamed shrimp.
Nature remains the biggest draw, though. Astrab says even slow days of tarpon fishing are worthwhile for the chance to enjoy a rich variety of other wildlife—manatees, roseate spoonbills, pelicans. In July and August, he enjoys watching people out scalloping on the flats.
That abundance of wildlife is one reason people are protective of these waters, whose ecosystem enjoys protection from Florida’s Nature Coast Aquatic Preserve, which spans more than 700 square miles of coastline including Homosassa. Anglers tend to be conservation minded and want to help preserve this one-of-a-kind fishery for generations to come, a feeling that extends to the tarpon. By law and tradition, tarpon can’t be kept. Having wrangled the mighty fish to the side of the boat, anglers take a couple of pictures and then send them on their way.
Burke, the Lord of the Fly author, says he has pictures, because when he’s writing a story there’s usually a photographer with him. On his own, though, he usually leaves the camera behind. “I’ve always taken the Zen route of, be in the now and don’t worry about the photograph,” he says. “You’ll remember it.”
