CUMBERLAND ISLAND, Ga. Redfish here in the undeveloped backwaters of Southeast Georgia are no different than their Northeast Florida kin. If they sense something's amiss, their survival instinct overrides their urge to eat.

Amelia Island guide Capt. Russell Tharin, his wife Janet and I recently ran north in Tharin's skiff to fish the winding Intracoastal Waterway west of Cumberland Island. These waters are as unexplored as any you'll find in the region - we could count the number of fishing boats we saw on one hand. And this was on a Sunday morning.

Some time back, Tharin had discovered an area that consistently holds oversized reds, fish measuring 30 inches and more that you don't normally associate with skinny water. Because it's a long run by boat, Tharin only fishes the spot occasionally.

We arrived as the tide was just beginning to trickle in, and to a first-timer, the spot didn't look any different than any number of mud flats along the waterway. The difference, Tharin explained, was that a long sandbar guarded this flat, and between the bar and the bank was a slough that held a couple of feet of water. That's where the fish would be.

We approached under the power of the bow mounted trolling motor, and immediately Tharin saw something he didn't like. There was a school of reds, all right, but they were slowly swimming in formation away from us, rippling the surface with their signature wakes.

"They know we're here," Tharin said, chiding himself for not poling the boat into position. It's a scenario familiar to shallow-water redfishermen everywhere. You find the fish, but not before they find you. Then what do you do? If the fish are completely boogered and flee the flat, you go someplace else to fish. But if they're only on alert, if they regroup and remain in the area, what's the best approach to catching them?

Light-tackle anglers have an advantage in such situations. They can remain at a distance from a school, making extra-long casts with topwater plugs, spoons, etc. But even accomplished fly casters like Capt. Russell Tharin, who can punch a fly out 100-plus feet, must get relatively close to a school.

For two hours, we co-existed with several spooky schools on Tharin's flat. Observing their behavior, it was like our own little redfish laboratory. The fish would move north and south from one end to the other on the flat. Sometimes, when a school became alarmed, they'd move to slightly deeper water but still within sight of the boat. "The key is to know what to look for and catch them as far away from the boat as you can, with a long cast," Tharin said.

With Tharin on the poling platform, Janet was up first on the bow, armed with an 8-weight fly rod and a black clouser minnow fly. Janet, a long-time long-rodder, knows the drill. With the fly pinched in her left hand, ready to be instantly released for a cast, she stood with both feet together directly in the center of the bow platform.

Two reasons for this, Tharin said. One, his boat tracks better under pole when weight is distributed evenly. But most importantly, a person standing with both feet together instead of spread apart helps minimize the pressure wave radiated by a slow-moving boat.

"Fish can sense that," Tharin said. "If you stand with your feet 2 feet apart and shift your weight, that rocks the boat."

Janet was on target with her casts, but nothing took. The reds - some singles, some in small schools - were cruising at a fairly fast clip.

From his vantage point high on the platform, Tharin coached: "Nine o'clock! Strip! Strip faster! Pick it up and cast at ten o'clock!"

And then, just when it appeared the reds weren't going to chew at all, Janet was hooked up. The fish swam toward the boat, not realizing yet that the morsel in its mouth had a hook in it. Janet reeled like mad to take up the slack. When the line came tight, the red reacted as if it had come face to face with a 12-foot hammerhead. See ya!

The red made several bullish runs before tiring. At the boat, it measured 32 inches, Janet's biggest red on fly. Tharin was beaming as he released it.

"I love to see the fish eat, to see his body changes when he comes up to take that fly," he said. "That's the whole fun of it."

It was my turn next, and these fish weren't getting any easier. Tharin poled, and I took shots at every opportunity. Finally, after missing one fish, I connected on another. A solid 30-incher.

I climbed the platform to pole Tharin around, but by then the reds had seen way too many fly lines. They were still in the area, but seriously boat-shy. Russell managed to catch a small red, but the rising water was by now too deep to effectively sightfish.

Considering the reds' demeanor this day, we were fortunate to catch the ones we did on fly. "We had to work for these fish," Tharin said.

Like other guides in the area, Tharin has watched the popularity of shallow-water redfishing take hold in the last decade or so. But with that has come more fishing pressure, tournaments, specialized gear and an overall increase in knowledge about redfish biology and habits.

Not surprisingly, reds have become more educated, too. I think that fish have a great recall, they can remmber the sounds and can feel changes.


* Go exploring on a falling tide and look for creeks that retain a foot or so of water even at dead low. Reds may remain in such creeks throughout the tide cycle. Even better is a creek as described above that has a natural barrier such as a sandbar or oyster mound at its mouth. The barrier, Tharin said, will prevent porpoises - a redfish nemesis - from entering the creek around low water.

* For whatever reason, Tharin finds his best redfishing occurs on flats in the waterway located behind barrier islands about midway between inlets. The Palm Valley and Pine Island area, for example, situated between the Mayport and St. Augustine inlets. "Where the tides come together in the middle part of a barrier island - that's where I'd start," Tharin said.

* Try to fish an area when the direction of the tidal flow and wind are aligned. "If I have current and wind in the same direction, the water will be clearer, and I find the fish eat better in clear water," Tharin said.

* To sight fish, Tharin prefers fishing the last two hours of the falling tide, when the fish move from the grass to the oysters and eventually concentrate on the mud flats and in the sloughs. He believes the fish are more bunched up and competitive in such a scenario. Reds will scatter more as they move with the tide as begins to flood.

* On high tides, Tharin fishes the edges of the grass adjacent to areas where reds were concentrated at low tide. Tharin will blind cast at grass line on points, creek mouths and submerged shell beds using light tackle rods with topwater plugs that he can walk the dog under high-tide conditions.

* Practice stealth on a flat. "I live by the pushpole so we can get as close as we can to make a cast," Tharin said. "I don't recommend a trolling motor at low tide if you are sight fishing, although if you're blind casting and fishing by yourself you don't have much choice. If you are using a trolling don't vary the speed, run as quitely as you can."

* And last always rotate your spots. "Don't go back to the same spot day after day," Tharin said. "These are paranoid fish in the shallows."

Greyfield Inn on Cumberland Island, Ga.

Greyfield Inn

A Luxury Romantic Oceanfront Hotel On the Georgia Coast's Golden Isles ...a grand and graceful mansion located in Georgia's Golden Isle and on the state's southernmost coastal island, Cumberland Island. Greyfield was built in 1900 as a home for Lucy and Thomas Carnegie's daughter, Margaret Ricketson, it was opened as Greyfield Inn in 1962 by Margaret's daughter, Lucy R. Ferguson, and her family.