It all started with a film called The Big Year. The movie is about three friends competing in a bird counting contest while dealing with personal crises.
After watching the film, I was inspired to embark on my own big year. Facing my own personal crisis, my 50th birthday, I set a goal to catch 50 fish species in my birthday month. I planned to target everything that swims with any legal method, including rod and reel, bow hunting and even nets.
50 for 50: Chris Funk Celebrates His Half-Century with Epic Quest
Keys to Success
When I told my wife, Angie, about the plan, she said, “Let’s do it big and start in the Keys.”
We decided to base out of Key Largo with the option to run south and hit the bridges, then north for peacock bass.
On the first morning in June, we loaded our Jackson Kayak TakeTwo tandem kayak with enough gear to stock a charter boat and pushed off into Buttonwood Sound.
As the Torqeedo 1103 pushed us across the grass flats, I kept an eye out for potential targets. We had traveled a short distance down the shoreline when I heard a predator splash.
I made a cast toward the sound and quickly retrieved my lure. A barracuda smashed my Z-Man paddle tail and I set the hook. The little rocket was the first fish crossed off my list.
After I added a mangrove snapper and bluestrip grunt to the tally, I turned to a sea wall to target a schoomaster. On the way to the sea wall, I heard the telltale sound of a big fish blowing up bait.
A few feet away, a tarpon surfaced to gulp air. I cast my lure and almost hit the fish in the head. “I screwed that up,” I told Angie and then the tarpon almost ripped the rod out of my hand.
The drag screamed as four feet of silver fish took to the air. Then, the fish turned and charged down the canal ripping drag like I’ve never seen.
I firewalled the Torqeedo to keep up with the fleeing tarpon. The huge fish jumped twice and then reversed directions.
I was fighting the fish, coaching Angie with the camera while trying not to flip the kayak. With one last run, the tarpon skyrocketed next to the boat and began a slow circle.
After one close pass, I grabbed the tarpon by the lower jaw. The victory was brief; the giant fish jerked its head free, broke my line, splashed me with its huge tail and disappeared back into the water. After 10 years of chasing tarpon, I finally caught one. “And you did it on your 50th birthday!” Angie reminded me from the back of the kayak.
Peacock Hunting
To target peacock bass, we spent a day fishing a canal west of Homestead. Strong wind and overcast sky made sight casting difficult.
I was blind casting a small paddle tail into lily pads when I saw a green and orange streak smack the lure. The fish quickly wrapped me in the lily pads and broke free.
A few casts later, another bright orange attack and I landed a Mayan cichlid, an invasive species from Mexico.
After a few photos and releasing the cichlid, a tiny peacock bass pounced on my lure. This time I moved quickly to keep it out of the lily pads. Before releasing the peacock bass, I took a moment to admire the vibrant green, yellow, red and black markings.
That night a ferocious storm dropped 11 inches of rain with winds to 35 miles per hour, canceling our plans to fish the bridges.
When I set out on the Florida trip, I planned to catch 25 species. Due to the weather, I was happy to have 15. On the long trip home, I devised a plan to catch 50 species without going broke or crazy.
Home Run
The next morning, I was standing on the landing at my favorite fishing spot hoping to add a few notches. I had a box of worms, a bucket of crickets and my full arsenal of freshwater gear.
I planned to catch every critter that swims and I meant business. Unfortunately, my go-to spots were deserted. After hours of fishing, I hadn’t added any species to my list.
Panic set in. I pulled up on a rock to gather my wits when I saw bait running ahead of me. I sent a trick worm into the zone and a small spotted bass inhaled the lure.
The same location produced a largemouth and one of my biggest shoal bass. Three more species and a Chattahoochee slam made my day.
I broke out the ultralight meat stick, baited up with a live cricket and headed to the dam wall. With a few hours of daylight left, redbreast, redear, bluegill and warmouth fell from the list.
I cut off the cricket rig, put on a crappie jig and quickly caught a black crappie. On the way home, I hit a boat landing that holds green sunfish.
The following day, I ran my boat upriver and added longnose gar and blue catfish. On my last cast with my last bait, I scored a flathead catfish.
On the way back to the landing, I picked up my bowfishing gear to hunt for a grass carp but ended up shooting a spotted sucker.
Friendly Waters
After days on the road and in the water, I was sitting at 26 species. Exhausting my local water, a lightbulb went on in my head. I reserved a campsite at Shell Island Fish Camp in Crawford, Florida, and texted my friend Jean Wilson, a local sharpie and fellow Jackson Kayak team member.
When I explained my plan, Jean said, “See you at the boat landing.” I love my friends; they never question the method to my madness.
At 3:15 a.m. the next morning I was headed to the Wacissa River. A few hours later, Jean and I were rigging up in the parking lot. Before leaving the launch, I cast a redworm to a patch of floating hyacinth and caught a red spotted sunfish.
For hours, I stalked, fought and lost one fish after another. Jean witnessed the excitement and agony of my challenge. Eventually, my luck changed and I added a gorgeous Suwannee bass and a Florida gar. Then I caught a trophy spot and a nice-size bowfin. Before long, Jean was cheering each catch and boosting my morale when I lost fish.
I set up camp and tallied 32 species on my list. In the shallow water behind the campground, I noticed a disturbance on the surface. I grabbed my cast net and put a striped mullet in the bucket for species 33 and bait for the next morning.
Taking a Beating
At sunrise, with a stiff breeze blowing, I paddled out of the boat canal at St. Marks Wildlife Refuge. Considering the white caps and dirty water, I decided to drop anchor next to an oyster bar and cast out a chunk of the mullet. While I soaked the cut bait, I used my other rod to fan cast a Slayer Sinister Swim Tail.
After a few minutes, the bait rod bowed over and the drag started screaming. I figured it was a small shark, but a flash of copper caught me by surprise. A beautiful redfish was my first catch of the morning.
Next, a solid thump on my lure followed by a big fish thrashing on the surface became my first speckled trout of the trip.
The weather was degrading fast, and my anchor struggled to hold bottom. Four times I was chased off the oyster bar by high winds or torrential rain.
Fighting the conditions, I added a pigfish, croaker, hard head and gafftop catfish.
The clouds turned angry and a bolt of lightning ripped across the sky. By the time I reached the boat canal, the wind was at a gale, ripping palm fronds from the trees.
On the drive home, I was happy to catch redfish and sea trout but stressed over missing easy fish like lizardfish, bluefish, ladyfish and sharks. Usually, I would consider these fish pests, but now I was disappointed I didn’t catch them.
Back home one evening, I launched the boat to investigate intel about a sunset striper bite. Chucking a heavy fluke into the current flowing below a dam, I scored a nice-sized striped bass.
Endgame
With the month almost over, I had chased fish in 13 different bodies of water, driven over 2,500 miles and fished in three states. Using my fishing rods, cast net and bow, I stood at 49 species with seven days left to complete my quest.
The problem was, I was scheduled for 12-hour shifts at work. On my day off, I planned a long drive and an early morning launch.
At sunrise, I was floating along a picturesque section of the Tallapoosa River while putting a yellow Stealth Bomber fly through its paces.
The fishing was fantastic and the redgreast, bluegill and spotted bass were vicious and plentiful. Normally, this would be a wonderful morning, but I was on a mission and I had already crossed these species off the list.
A rocky outcropping just downstream drew my attention. I laid a cast next to a weather-worn stump. Between the third and fourth strip, the fly disappeared. I strip set the hook and the fish jumped.
When the fish turned sideways just below my kayak, I saw the telltale white outline around the fins and vertical splotches along the side. After I landed the fish, the blue tint and blue eyeshadow provided confirmation; I caught a Tallapoosa bass.
After I landed the fish, I admired it for a few seconds before releasing it back to the river. Then, with my quest accomplished, I drifted downriver and soaked in the significance.
I am blessed to have lived 50 years and to have caught 50 species of fish in a month. I wasn’t after trophies; most anglers wouldn’t recognize most of the fish I caught. But every catch was a trophy for me. After pulling off this accomplishment, I’m not stressed about turning 50. And I’m already cooking up a new challenge to celebrate my 60th birthday.
Chris Funk paddles, fishes and photographs all over the southeastern United States. He says that his life revolves around six Fs: faith, family, fur, fins, feathers and fotography.
”I devised a plan to catch 50 species without going broke or crazy.” | Feature photo: Chris Funk
