|
|
Palm Beach Post
By Willie Howard
TITUSVILLE — There's a reason Blair Wiggins named his television show Addictive Fishing. He's addicted — especially to redfish.
Wiggins fell in love with fishing as a boy in Cocoa Beach, where he explored the Indian River Lagoon in a 10-foot Montgomery Ward aluminum boat pushed along by a 1.5-horsepower Evinrude.
"It hasn't changed much," Wiggins said as he zoomed up the Indian River near Titusville, headed north toward schooling redfish in his 16-foot Ranger Phantom flats boat. "I get to do it with a more comfortable ride. If I had a boat like this growing up, there would be fewer fish in Cocoa Beach."
Fishing has been Wiggins' passion for more than 30 years, but the former Air Force weapons inspector didn't decide to make it his life's work until 1993, when he left his job conducting quality-control inspections for the Space Shuttle to become a fishing guide.
Six years later, Wiggins started producing Addictive Fishing with childhood friend Kevin McCabe. They met in second grade. Both loved to fish. After high school, McCabe studied television and film production, and Wiggins joined the Air Force. Their paths crossed again at a high school reunion. They came up with the idea for a fishing show for TV, and it took off.
Some fishing TV shows can put even die-hard anglers to sleep. Wiggins says his show keeps viewers watching because he has not become bored with fishing. He tries to teach. He fishes enthusiastically — and, usually, barefooted. And he always tries to catch big fish, known as "mogans" on the show. "Mogan," coined by Wiggins and McCabe, is a combination of "monster" and "biggan," or big one, and fans rally around the moniker. Addictive Fishing fans will travel to Fort Pierce for the July 27-30 Mogan Mania fishing tournament.
More on that addiction.
I met Wiggins and his publicist, Paul Abercrombie of Tampa, last week in Titusville. Wiggins had been on the road filming shows and fishing Wal-Mart FLW Redfish Series tournaments with partner Tadd Vandemark, so he had not previewed the Titusville area waters, known for huge redfish. This was the second time Wiggins had fished his home waters this year.
We ran north. Wiggins buttoned on his light-blue fishing shirt, which helped him blend in with the sky on this clear morning, and took center stage atop the poling platform. For the first hour, we simply poled and watched the water, moving from spot to spot, hoping to see a reddish glint in the water or the rolling wakes of moving mogans.
For Wiggins, getting in tune with the mood of the estuary is an important part of shallow-water fishing. Anglers must take time to observe. When he worked as a guide, Wiggins said he used to come out and simply watch redfish, never making a cast. He tried to sense the moods of the Space Coast reds. When the fish are fired up and turn bright orange, he said, they'll hit topwater plugs.
"It's an exciting hit on top," Wiggins said. "It's like somebody dropped a bowling ball out of a C-130."
At the northern tip of the Indian River, near a spot called Grassy Point, Wiggins began to notice large swirls in 18-inch-deep water. He told us to whisper as he poled the boat along quietly. He cast a D.O.A. jerk bait well ahead of the moving school and let it sit. The fish swam over it. They were not feeding aggressively.
For the next half an hour or so, we watched the school mingle and frolic, their white bellies flashing now and then, their spotted tails breaking the slick-calm surface. These reds didn't have their noses in the mud feeding, which would have been ideal, but they were staying near us and entertaining us with a show of fins breaking the surface.
After a few casts and no hookups, Wiggins tied on a shallow-running D.O.A. Bait Buster, slathered it with a scent called Lunker Sauce and cast ahead of the school. A few seconds later, a redfish thumped his bait and took off, curling his rod into a C shape.
After holding the bronze fish for photos and watching it swim away, Wiggins' hands were trembling.
It's the addiction.
"If I ever lose that shaking feeling, it's time to quit," Wiggins said. "And I've done this a thousand times."
A few minutes later, anglers fishing nearby with guide Travis Tanner were fighting two reds from the front deck. They were fishing with shrimp, so we borrowed a few. Wiggins put a shrimp on a jig head for Abercrombie and started poling alongside the school, being careful to keep his distance.
A few casts went awry. As the captain-angler relationship began to gel, Abercrombie began to hit the spots Wiggins suggested. A well-placed cast from the front deck had Abercrombie fighting the biggest fish of his life, a gorgeous red estimated at 18 pounds, promptly photographed and released.
|
|
