I WAS ABOUT TO take another step in the thigh-deep, tannin-stained water when a dark shape caught my eye. A five-foot alligatorwas hugging the creek bottom, glaring up at me. My left foot would have landed on his snout. I ner- vously gave him a wide berth and exhaled loudly when he decided not to follow.
“They won’t bother you. The really big dino saurs are farther
down the creek. Those are the ones to watch out for.”
“I almost stomped on one of your
pet lizards,” I hollered to my guide ahead, who was busy throwing the cast net for bait. “Yeah, there are plenty of those little
guys,” Gary Droze shouted back. “They won’t bother you. The really big dino - saurs are farther down the creek. Those
are the ones to watch out for.” Great, I whispered under my breath.
What had I gotten myself into? Thank goodness my life insurance premiums were up to date. The authorities may not find my body, but at least my wife will get some compensation for my insanity. I slogged on through the shallows. An hour earlier I had met Droze in
the St. Marks National Wildlife Refuge, about 25 miles south of Tallahassee. We unloaded our mountain bikes, tackle and other gear and rode off through the pine and oak trees. After exiting the well- marked trail, we stashed the bikes in the tall sawgrass. We then set off on foot through the spongy marsh before finally splashing into one of the tidal creeks that crisscross the Big Bend coast like shim- mering strands of a spider’s web. Droze, a teacher and track coach, is
a wiry former distance runner who might weigh 120 pounds soaking wet in full waders. He’s also an eccentric legend among the local angling frater- nity for his endurance wading style and consistent tournament success. He graciously agreed to let me tag along on one of his trips. His love of the refuge environment quickly became apparent. “My dad was in the Air Force and he finished his career in Orlando,”
Droze explained. “I started fishing freshwater ponds there for bass and after I graduated from the Air Force Academy, my first duty assignment was in the Florida Panhandle. So I blame the military for forcing me to learn how to fish in saltwater.”
MINIMALIST FISHING When Droze left the service to earn
a graduate degree, he realized Talla - hassee wasn’t far from the coast. Through trial and error, he began to hone his wading skills in the refuge. “I spent a long time not catching
much until I finally figured out I needed to pay attention to the tides,” he said. “I never had to contend with them in the bass ponds. And because my time was limited with teaching and coaching, by necessity I became a minimalist angler. I’m the first to admit I’m a one- trick pony. I’m a low-tide fisherman, only now I’m studying high tides too.” Although he’ll occasionally toss top-
water chugger lures or weedless spoons, Droze primarily uses cast-netted live bait. Killifish (bull minnows and tiger minnows) are his mainstay. “The bull minnows are a little heavier and they cast farther, like plugs,” he
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