Brent Jacobs casts for speckled trout against a backdrop provided by the levee road along the northwest shore of the Indian River Lagoon. Photo by Jimmy Jacobs.

A cloud of dust trailed behind the vehicle as it rattled over the sandy washboard road, obliterating the view to the rear.

On either side, a tangle of semi-tropical jungle was grudgingly giving way to more open vistas of mixed hardwood and palm hammocks splotched across a tableau of marsh grass.

The setting was hardly one to stir the call of the sea that hides in every saltwater angler. This slice of Old Florida seemed more designed to tease a deer hunter or bass fisherman. Yet we were driving across southern Volusia County, intent upon hooking up with a few speckled trout.

The dirt path that my son Brent and I were following leads from U.S. 1 into the very northern tip of both the Indian River Lagoon and the Merritt Island National Wildlife Refuge.

In colder weather here, you would meet far more duck hunters than anglers. And even in the summer, fishermen are scarce. In July, it is off the beaten path, hot and bug-infested

On the other hand, in the summer you can wade right into the water and find yourself amid schools of seatrout.

When we reached the end of the passable road, the lagoon stretched to the south before us.

If you follow the western shore for about three miles, you'd reach a very rough dirt boat landing near the village of Scottsmoor, where you could launch a johnboat.

At perhaps half that distance along the eastern shore lies Boathouse Point and beyond it, many more miles of shoreline before you reach the Haulover Canal.

All of which goes to say that this is one remote destination.

To the east, along the shore that lies in the NWR and past a locked gate, the road continued as a grass-covered pathway suitable for foot travel. On one side lies the Indian River Lagoon, and the other side is bordered by manmade mosquito-control canals. That was the direction we planned to move as we fished the shallow fringe of the lagoon.

THE FISHING
Donning flats boots and sporting fly rods, we were soon wading into the Indian River's warm summer waters. Wading is the only practical way to fish afoot on much of this end of the lagoon. Otherwise, you would need to make gargantuan casts from the shore just to reach two-foot depths. Often at 100 yards out, we were just reaching thigh-deep water.

Pretty quickly, as we inched along parallel to the shore, we could hear sharp pops as the water roiled nearby.

That characteristic sound of a seatrout feeding near or on the surface is guaranteed to arouse the interest of any trout angler. Instantly, fly line went whizzing through the air as we laid our offerings near the most recent disturbances.