The Florida Keys backcountry, MM0 to MM107

Stand on the seawall in Marathon at first light and look both ways. To the south, the Atlantic — Hawk Channel, the reef line, blue water, swell. That's the front side. To the north, the Bay — Florida Bay — a 1,000-square-mile shallow estuary of grass beds, sand basins, mangrove islets, and water that's rarely more than ten feet deep and often less than three. That's the back side. That's the backcountry.

The Atlantic side gets the magazine covers. The backcountry gets the obsessives. It's a different fishery, and the people who learn to read it never quite go back.

Defining backcountry

In Keys usage, "backcountry" means the Bay/Gulf side of US-1, from roughly Mile Marker 0 in Key West up to Mile Marker 107 at the top of Key Largo. The southern boundary is the chain of islands itself. The northern boundary, technically, is the southern edge of Everglades National Park — the basin off Flamingo and Cape Sable. Everything in between is fishable shallow water.

It is not one place. It is a series of zones with their own characters. The basins off Flamingo and Snake Bight at the top of Florida Bay are tarpon country in May. Buchanan Bank and Sandy Key, off Islamorada, are classic bonefish and tarpon flats. The flats around Big Pine and the Snipe Keys hold permit and shark and the occasional cobia. The water off Key West, working west toward the Marquesas, is where the bones get smaller and the permit get bigger.

Why a poling skiff

The standard backcountry boat is a flats skiff — 16 to 18 feet, a tunnel hull, six-inch draft, no engine noise once you're on the flat. The angler stands on the bow. The guide or the partner stands on a platform over the engine and pushes the boat with a graphite or fiberglass pole, 21 feet long, called a push pole. Silence is the point. A 7-pound bonefish in 18 inches of water will leave the area before you finish saying the word "boat" if you run a trolling motor at it.

This is also why the Atlantic-side boat doesn't work here. A 24-foot bay boat with a 250 on the back can fish Hawk Channel all day. Put it on a Buchanan Bank flat in 2 feet of water and you've either run aground or spooked every fish from here to Sandy Key. Wrong tool for the work.

The species

What's back here, roughly in order of how often you'll see them on a skiff: bonefish, tarpon, permit (rare), redfish, snook (more in the mangrove country up north), barracuda everywhere, sharks (lemon, blacktip, bull, hammerhead — yes, hammerheads sight-fished on a fly), and jacks. The serious flats angler is hunting all of them at once, watching for the right one. Worth following Bonefish & Tarpon Trust on the conservation side — they do the science that keeps this fishery here.

The three glamour species are bonefish, tarpon, and permit. Catch all three in 24 hours and you have a grand slam. It is rarer than you'd think.

Where to learn

Islamorada is the cradle. The town has marketed itself as the sportfishing capital of the world, and the marketing is mostly earned — the Cheeca Lodge era of the 1950s and 60s built a guide tradition here that hasn't really stopped. If you want to hire a guide for your first day in the backcountry, Islamorada is the default answer.

Marathon is the school. The middle Keys have shorter runs to good water, less attitude on the dock, and a working-class fleet that will teach you faster if you ask the right questions. The basins on the Bay side off the Seven Mile Bridge and the area around the Content Keys are real water.

Big Pine is the proving ground. The Snipe Keys, the flats off No Name, the basins on the Gulf side toward the Sawyer Keys — bigger water, fewer boats, more weather, longer runs. The fish here have seen fewer flies than the Islamorada flats. They reward people who can read water and run it themselves.

“The backcountry humbles everyone the first time. Half the day is finding the fish. The other half is the cast you didn't make.”

What gear you actually need

• — An 8-weight rod for bonefish, a 10 or 11 for permit, a 12 for tarpon. Bring all three if you're serious.
• — Polarized glasses. Copper or amber lenses for sight-fishing on grass. Not optional.
• — A long-billed hat or a wide-brim. A baseball cap with a low front gives you about half the visibility you actually need.
• — A long-sleeve sun shirt. The Bay reflects more UV than the Atlantic because it's brighter and shallower. Six hours on a skiff in May at 24.5° N is a serious dose.
• — A sun mask for the run home. The run home is always into the sun.
• — Water. More than you think. The skiff has no shade.

Humility

The backcountry humbles everyone the first time. You spend half the day looking for the fish and the other half blowing the cast when you find them. The wind picks up at noon. The tide turns and the fish you saw at 9 a.m. are gone by 10. A guide will tell you the truth: this is a 20-good-shots day, and on those 20 shots, you will hook three fish and land one. That's a good day in the Bay.

Once you've felt it work — a single tail in 18 inches of water, a 70-foot cast that doesn't land on the fish, a strip, a hookup — the Atlantic side starts to feel a little simple. That's how you know you're done. For the species detail, see the grand slam.