Why is it that the best offshore bottom fishing opportunities often occur during the coldest, most miserable time of the year? Regardless of what Chamber of Commerce types may say, winters in Florida can often be a bone-chilling experience, especially when on the water.

Several winters ago, for example, I saw ice forming along shorelines in the Panhandle after a cold front blasted in from Yankeeland on Christmas day sending thermometers plunging into the teens. Whenever the thermometer dips to holy mackerel lows, I can always count on a call from Dr. Hugh Harmon proposing an offshore grouper safari.

Last month was no exception. Although things were beginning to thaw a bit, it was still in the high 30s just before dawn.

"We're leaving the dock at 4 a.m.," he said without preamble. "Be there."

Let's face it. Anything starting at 4 a.m. is a loser. Through the years I've found that the high point of any day beginning at that hour is when you roll out of bed. From then on, it's downhill.

"You're nuts," screamed Miss Marva (my first wife), when I announced my scheme for the following day.

"Anybody crazy enough to go out in weather like this deserves to freeze their you-know-what. Just don't wake me up when you leave."

"She's right," I said to myself soon after shutting off the alarm at 3:15 the following morning and putting coffee water on.

"(Expletive deleted)," I mumbled, "It's even too early for the morning paper delivery."

The Dunedin dentist already had the engines humming on his 45-foot Mother Lode when I stumbled aboard at four on the dot. At that point his engines were the only warm things this side of Kingston, Jamaica.

"Anybody else going along?" I asked, making ready to cast off the bow and stern lines.

"No, you're the only one I could get," he replied, confirming what is generally accepted to be my intelligence quotient level.

Because of the chill factor we decided to forego catching live bait. On this day we would do or die with frozen sardines already in the bait box, or with 1-ounce Cotee Liv'Eye Jigs with root beer-colored grub tails.

Harmon, one of the better grouper fishermen on Florida's Gulf Coast, punched in some numbers on his LORAN-C unit after we rounded the north end of Anclote Key and headed on a northwest course designed to put us in 42 feet of water off Homosassa.

Bucking a 15- to 20-mile-per-hour blow straight out of the north, choppy seas, and a wind chill factor that felt like 50 below zero, the numb (which rhymes with dumb) "dynamic duo" finally arrived at their predetermined spot just as Mr. Sun broke over the horizon.

Fortunately the dentist has a black book filled with productive numbers for all seasons of the year--spring, summer, fall, and winter. We were in the January through March mode on this trip.

"I'm marking fish down there," Doc said, scanning the scratches on his electronic depth recorder.

"I hope they're not too cold to bite," I answered, ready to lower the anchor.

That question was answered the moment Harmon dropped his frozen sardine to the bottom and was greeted with a formidable strike.

"Bingo," he yelled while straining to move a big fish up and away from the rocks.

"Looks like we found our spot on the first try."

I didn't have time to reply because just as he was swinging a dandy 15-pounder over the rail, my rod began bucking and bending into the shape of a horseshoe. After some huffing and puffing, I was soon able to bring in a matching 15-pounder.

We both used heavy eight-foot grouper rods, Penn reels, 60-pound line, and 90-pound monofilament shocker leaders. A 5/0 hook and eight ounces of lead rounded out our frozen bait rig.

It was one of those days when you could do nothing wrong. All that we needed to do was send the frozen sardine or artificial jig offering to the bottom, reel up a crank or two, and get braced for a thundering strike. Things continued like this all morning. Often a hot hole plays out after a few fish are removed, but today was different.

These fish, all running between 10 and 20 pounds each, stayed with us and showed no inclination to quit.

More than a half-dozen gag grouper (known on the Gulf Coast as "blacks") broke us off. They were just too hefty to turn and managed to duck into a hole where they cut us off on sharp edges of sunken rocks. Early on we had our limit of keepers in the fish storage box aboard the "Mother Lode," but kept fishing just for the fun of it.

"A heckuva note," Harmon remarked as we raised the anchor at about high noon. "Imagine, leaving a good hole with the fish still biting like there's no tomorrow."

"Just keep in mind there'll be other trips," I replied. "Only next time, let's pick a colder day."

"It might be cold and nasty," he said, bundling up for the return trip, "but it sure beats pulling teeth."

"When you're pulling teeth, you're at least doing it in a warm office," I shot back.

Hopefully, at this point, you haven't concluded that winter is the only time you can catch grouper in Florida. Actually it's a year-round proposition, even though you'll want to work different areas depending upon the time of year.

Generally, during the colder months, grouper are found closer to shore on the Gulf Coast. During summer and fall it's often necessary to travel longer distances in order to accumulate respectable poundage.

Usually, from late December through the end of March or into early April, anglers can find fish relatively close to shore. It's not unusual at this time to locate medium- and large-sized gamesters in waters ranging in depth from 35 to 55 feet.

As water temperatures rise, black and red grouper tend to migrate into deeper haunts where, apparently, they're more comfortable. During the late summer and fall months, don't be surprised if you have to travel 40 to 80 miles or more westward before zeroing in on your target.

As recently as 20 years ago grouper could consistently be caught close to shore year around. But, due to increasing recreational and commercial pressure, from folks equipped with more sophisticated electronics and fishing gear, those days are probably gone forever.

Experienced anglers--particularly those with good LORAN numbers--can still make excellent hauls in the Gulf's deeper areas, providing they have the time and trappings to devote to the effort.

They may even be able to do so the easy way--when the weather is decent--instead of following the example of Dr. Hugh Harmon and a frigid scribe who, it seems, do their best when the weather is at its worst. So, when Mother Nature sends those blue blazers roaring into Florida during winter months, think of me. While you're snug and cozy next to a pot-bellied stove, I'll be somewhere out there on a freezing Gulf of Mexico trying to put a grouper in the box.