Against the Wind

T HE NORTHER HIT my house at 3 a.m. It was what we Texans call a “Blue Norther.”

The temperature dropped 40 degrees in under an hour. My clients were hard-core fishermen/anglers and had driven 300 miles to fish this one day.

I pulled out my Stanley thermos and started up my drip coffee maker. It was the makings of a long cold day and a warm cup of joe would sure be nice.

The forecast was for temperatures around 30 degrees. On the water it would be about 25 degrees with a wind chill of 17.

As I reached for the coffee, a tin with Baileys Irish Cream beckoned my name. I’m not a drinking man, mostly because it no longer agrees with me. However, on this day a shot of the spirited cream in their coffee might be appreciated by my clients. Besides, Jesus turned the water into wine, so no foul done—even though I knew that was about as weak a reason as is heavenly possible.

These are the days that guide wannabe’s seldom hear about or consider. Even my wife said she didn’t envy my job today.

The water was rapidly leaving our bays, so what would be shallow running normally would be high and dry ground in a few hours. These conditions are game changers, so any bite pattern I had noticed over the past several weeks was out the door.

My wife said, “Maybe they will call and cancel.”

“Yeah, they will call all right, and they will want to know where the hell I am if I don’t get a move on.”

I could see even from two blocks away what looked like two HUGE marshmallows that were milling about at the dock. No one else was crazy enough to be there, so I knew it was my guys. When I tell you, they looked like the Michelin men it is no stretch of the truth.

Visions of them getting too cold and wanting to cut the trip short or cut it all together were blown away in the 30-knot wind that was now freezing my bald head. The suits they had on were made to hunt in Saskatchewan Canada so somebody was gonna be cold today, and it looked like it was me, not them.

Spirits were high and it did indeed help my attitude a bit. After checking my fuel separator for frozen water, I launched my boat.

The water was lower than I expected and there was to be little or no tide movement. This day, the wind was the tide, and it was all heading rapidly in one direction, due south. The water temperature had dropped 20 degrees from the day before and looked to go steadily down.

The two 65-year old guys whom I dubbed the “Michelin Twins” wore thick gloves on their hands, faces were fully covered and they were now ready for action. I said to myself—cold or not, you just gotta love ‘em.

My plan now was clear. After seeing the falling water temperature, we headed to the black mud bottoms that hold the heat. With the front just arriving it was really too soon to expect the reds or trout to have already reacted. More than likely they were still in transition, which is called lockjaw.

The Michelin Twins were almost comical trying to work my reels with their thick gloves. I wanted to caution them about dropping/losing the rod should a fish hit it, but at this point that seemed wishful thinking, so I abstained.

“Fellas” I said, “we need to move – this is wasted effort.”

“Okay Capt. Mac. Umm, Capt. Mac, do you have any spirits aboard?

“Spirits?” I queried. “You guys ghost hunters or something? There are, according to legend, deer here with human heads on these islands, but I think that’s more whiskey legend than anything else.”

“The spirit of whiskey is what we are asking about,” the twins said.

“No whiskey,” I told them. “But I do have a bottle of Baileys Cream that tastes good in hot coffee, which I just happen to have as well.”

“That’ll do.” they both said. “Can we wait a bit here and get a cup?”

“Absolutely,” I said. 

With two good shots per cup, we had some SPIRITED coffee. Even though it is scientifically proven that alcohol actually works the opposite of warming a person up, it just feels like does, especially with the hot coffee. On this day, ANY feeling of warmth was needed.

I’m not sure whether it was the coffee or the time to collect myself, but suddenly my mind switched to my youth and the days wading all over these waters. I remembered three places I waded on very cold days that held fish.

The shoreline was directly in the face of the wind and all but impossible to cast into, but I could tell the water temperature was warmer mostly because the near shoreline protected the water from the wind. My gut told me there would be fish there.

I jumped up and said “Guys, rig for running we’re going ‘sail fishing.’”

“Capt. Mac, we’re with you on almost anything,” they replied, horrified, “but we ain’t going into the Gulf of Mexico which is where the sail fish are right?”

“Right” I said, “a more accurate term is ‘sail casting.’”

I eased the Haynie within three or four feet of the frozen salt grass on the north shoreline. The guys grabbed their rods, mud minnows attached, and positioned themselves to cast.

“Not that way,” I said.

“But you always have the wind at our backs when we cast.”

“Not now” I said. “The fish are not out there. If they are here they’re gonna be within 10 to 15 feet of the shore line.”

I took the rod, turned my back to the bay and was now facing the shoreline. I cast at a slight angle but almost directly into the shore. The wind caught the heavy Carolina rig, mud minnows attached, and like a kite it sailed it back toward the open water, landing about five feet just off the salt grass shoreline.

I handed the rod to one of the Michelin Twins and told him that the wind would cause the barrel weight to roll across the bottom. Once it got past 30 to 40 feet offshore, he would reel in and re-cast.

I grabbed the other rod and went for bait. I heard a loud noise and turned to see my Quantum reel and rod being pulled off the front of the boat. Michelin Man #1 made a drive for it, and I almost wet my pants laughing as he bounced off the front deck from all the padding in his Saskatchewan suit.

Fortunately, he did snag the rod and reel, but he was so billowy he couldn’t stand up. I ran to his aid as he was rolling and at the same time fighting the fish.

I reached to help him, and he groaned “You touch me, and I swear I’ll throw you overboard. This is my fish and it’s gonna be me or him. ”

Picture a marshmallow the size of a 55-gallon drum lying on its round side, and that’s what we were seeing. He was rolling around with the rod above his head, on his back one minute then, on his side the next.

At one point, he rolled to his stomach, and I saw the flash of the fish as it fought furiously against the line. It was now headed to the back of the boat, and Twin #2 hollered “You gotta get to the back or he’s gonna cut you off.”

We ducked as the line went over our heads and hit the railing around my windshield. Luckily, it rubbed right over the smooth railing (Thank God for braided line) and was now on the opposite side of the boat.

Time seemed to go in slow motion, when all of a sudden, the line went slack. Twin #1 about started crying believing the fish had gotten off.

“REEL IN. ” I hollered. “As fast as you can, he’s coming at the boat.”

The action of the rod and reel in the gloved hands of this horizontal Twin #1 was like watching someone cranking an eccentric scissor car jack. Net in hand, I had to put an end to this, one way or the other.

The bull red was heading straight for the side of the boat. I could see the swivel. As he started to pass under the boat (a cut off for sure), I made a stab with my net and he swam right into it. I hefted for all I was worth, and the handle of the net broke. The fish, now in the hoop of the net, landed perfectly in Twin #1’s lap. He was now a very happy man with the 42 ½ inch red, net and line now lying on his knees.

After some practice and plenty of Baileys, the Twins became quite adept at sail casting. Reds and trout were all hanging within feet of the shoreline. Everything this day was the opposite of protocol.

Normally the wind pushes bait onto waiting shorelines, which is typically where the fish are. However, in the event of a strong cold front, the shoreline stops the warmer water from the previous day or hours from being blown into the bay.

This is best wade-fished, but for those that can master sail casting (much like throwing a curve ball), boat fishing in these spots can be phenomenal. My advice, though, is to stay on your feet. 

•  •  •

W E HAVE MADE MUCH PROGRESS after Harvey. Although some hotels are open, make sure you call ahead. More bait stands are rebuilding, but bait can be hard to come by. Lower water depths this time of year can raise real havoc for lower units, especially with all the debris that is still raising its ugly head. Be ever watchful if you’re boating, and go slow.

COPANO BAY: Some black drum on the north shoreline near Turtle Pen. Peeled shrimp on a Carolina rig is best. The deep edges of Lap Reef are holding some keeper trout using free-lined shrimp. The pilings of the LBJ causeway are still a good place for sheepshead. The trick here is heaving main lines with a light mono leader and the smallest kahle hook you can find, tipped with cut squid.

ARANSASBAY: Hog Island is a good spot for reds using free-lined finger mullet. On high tide, fish the near shore pockets. On low tide, stay off-shore about 30 yards. The wells in the middle of the bay are a good spot for trout using Berkley Gulp shad in morning glory and anchovy colors.

ST. CHARLES BAY: The cut between St Charles and Aransas Bay is a good spot for drum and trout using free lined live shrimp. Twins Creek is holding some black drum; use a light Carolina rig and peeled shrimp.

CARLOS BAY: Carlos Dugout is a good place for trout using Berkley Gulp shad and saltwater assassins such as the Die Dapper or the Elite Shiner. The mouth of Beldon’s Dugout is a good spot for reds on high tide using finger mullet or mud minnows free-lined.

MESQUITE BAY: Brays Cove is a good spot for flounder using jig head grubs tipped with squid. Bounce this along the bottom and set the hook at the slightest tap. The east shoreline is a good place for reds, using finger mullet or cut mullet on a medium to heavy Carolina rig.

AYERS BAY: The east shoreline is good place for reds and trout using mud minnows free-lined. The shoreline just off Rattlesnake Island is a good spot for drum and sheepshead using a silent cork and peeled shrimp with a small hook, such as a #2 kahle.

The Bank Bite

Under the Bridge: In the village of Matagorda, a bridge goes over the Intracoastal Waterway carrying vehicles to the beach. Under this bridge, on both sides, you will find places to bank fish. Most of the time, water is moving swiftly so use a ½ ounce weight or more to keep your bait from moving with the current. Live bait is best, but fresh, dead shrimp will attract a bite as well.

 

Email Capt. Mac Gable at captmac@macattackguideservice.com