Last July I had to travel to San Antonio for a work conference. I arranged to arrive a couple days early and meet up with my old friend from high school, Brooks, who now lives in San Antonio with his wife and daughter.At the time, most of Texas was experiencing a serious heat wave and one of their worst droughts in years. Reservoirs were critically low and the heat of the day was excruciating (at least to me it was, coming from the high country of Wyoming). So... what better thing to do than go fishing?
I flew in a small plane from Laramie down to Denver and made my way to the gate for the San Antonio flight with two fly rod tubes strapped to the outside of my backpack. After a few curious glances from other waiting passengers, a Texas woman finally asked...
"What are those things?"
"Fly rods."
"Are you coming home from a trip to the mountains?"
"No, I am from Wyoming and actually going fishing in Texas."
"IN JULY? WHY???"
I just smiled. "Why not?"
I landed in San Antonio at about 10pm on a Sunday evening. I grabbed my bag and got a call from Brooks that he was waiting outside baggage claim. I walked out in to the thick night air and the heat hit me like a freight train. What am I doing?!?!?
I threw my bags in the trunk of his Honda Accord and we peeled off to get on the freeway. Ahead of us was a 2 hour drive south into the darkness towards Corpus Christi. We had plans to meet up with Brooks' friend Cory, who has a skiff... at about 4:30am for a pre-dawn boat launch. You know, "to avoid the heat".
We grabbed a cheap hotel room in Corpus and tried to sleep for about 2 or 3 hours before a nearly full day of fishing in Baffin Bay on the Texas Gulf Coast. It was not nearly enough to rest up for the following day. Thank God for coffee.
The next morning we met up with Cory and put the boat in the water. I strung up my 9wt fly rod in the dark, not really sure what kind of fly to use or even what species of fish we would encounter. Cory and Brooks were using spinning gear and had far more experience in this environment than I did. I honestly had no idea what I was doing.
As we were motoring out from the boat launch across Corpus Christi Bay, the sky turned to a deep pink, as if on fire from the rising sun. It was one of the most beautiful sunrises I have ever experienced. At that moment, I didn't care if I didn't catch a single fish that day (which proved to be the case), it was just so amazing being out there.We pulled up next to a small island and Cory dropped the anchor. The water was not completely clear and the sun was not high enough yet, so I couldn't see the bottom. For all I knew, the water was 30 feet deep with a bunch of creatures that would be thrilled to take a bite out of my flesh. Turns out, it was only about 3 feet deep. Cory and Brooks slipped off the skiff like it was no big deal. All I could think about were the stories of people stepping on stingrays.
I took a deep breath and a leap of faith. The bottom was grassy and muddy. The only thought in my mind was that my next step would surely be on the back of a ray. I shuffled my feet as I made my way closer to shore and my mind began to calm down. I noticed the birds, the smell of salt water, the breeze.
One of the greatest aspects of fly fishing is the places it takes you... just to wave a stick in the air and throw an artificial bug at a fish. You can completely immerse yourself into an ecosystem; a foreign world. You feel completely connected to the environment around you. Few things are better for your mind, body and soul than fly fishing. Getting to fish with an old friend you haven't seen in years sure isn't bad either.I worked myself close to the shore of this small island, not really sure if I was heading in the right direction or not. Brooks and Cory worked the water a little further from shore, but I felt a certain sense of comfort being closer to the shallows.
I practiced casting a few times, casting blindly into the water without a fish in sight. Suddenly up against the shoreline I saw a tailing redfish. I could see the distinct spot on the tail of the fish. I literally froze when I saw this. Could it be? Am I actually standing about 3o feet from a tailing redfish? Just like I have read about in the magazines? The water could not have been more than about 8 inches deep where this fish was feeding. I stood and watched this fish work the bottom for crabs and shrimp for probably 10 minutes. I even forgot that I was holding a fly rod. I was so captivated by this fish.After snapping out of my trance, I realized that I better saddle up and try to make a good cast to this fish. I pulled line from my reel, gripped my rod and began making false casts to get my line out. My first cast was too short, but now I was determined to get it right. In my excitement, I was not paying attention to my technique. I attempted a double haul and shot the line towards the fish. My cast was sloppy and I over shot the fish by about 10 feet. My line landed right on the back of the fish and it spooked. DAMN!
We continued to work the shallow bay throughout the early part of the day. Cory caught a few speckled trout and Brooks landed a nice young redfish on his spinning rod. I saw a few more fish throughout the day but did not get a strike. The wind began picking up and, even being used to the Wyoming wind and casting a 9wt rod, I was having trouble and getting frustrated... not to mention exhausted from the lack of sleep the night before.We decided to head in at about 1pm so that Brooks and I could make the drive back up to San Antonio. I had an absolute blast out there that day, even though I did not catch a single fish. I knew that my lack of experience and casting ability with a big game rod had me at a disadvantage all day... but the only way to get better is to get out there and do it. There is something special about being out "in the salt".
The next day, Brooks took me out on his bass boat in a lake near San Antonio. Again, it was extremely hot and the water was low. Brooks caught a few bass and I was once again skunked (again, fishing with fly gear).
That evening Brooks dropped me off at my hotel in Downtown San Antonio and I had 3 days of a work conference ahead of me. Having not caught a fish over the last two days of hard fishing, I was still completely content with the smell of salt water still in my clothes and a bit of a sunburn. At least the conference hall was air conditioned!This summer Brooks and his family are planning to come up to Wyoming and I hope to return the favor of playing fishing guide for a few days. I am also looking forward to the next chance I get to get back down to Texas and go after some of those redfish on the fly.
