A Texas Wind Beat Down
Back in Denton Fish Camp, and what exactly has happened? When I left there was the air of spring, and now? The furnace is lit, the grass is burning and summer has arrived suddenly and with an air of superiority that is hard to recall. If we were skeptical about the heat before, I am now convinced.
COASTAL BEATING
What politician was it that said, “I am not a wimp?” I am not a wimp, but living on the peninsula at Goose Island State Park (GISP) last week? It put me in my place to say the least. If you haven’t read it here before, first let me tell you: Goose Island State Park is my favorite Texas Gulf Coast park and one of my favorite parks in the State system.
But like everything else on the Texas Gulf Coast, the GISP changes personalities when the weekend comes, and that’s not a good thing. I will be writing more about the experiences at a later date.
The other factor on the Texas Gulf Coast is the weather. Normally, we would think the Texas weather would change. Remember the old Texas saying, “If you don’t like the weather, wait an hour?” I waited a week, and with the exception of the mornings of two days, the wind never let up. And when I say never, I mean never! My tent blew around like a “hooker on meth” all night every night I was in it (thankfully two nights were in the Port O fish camp). I was a Bond Martini – shaken and stirred. The winds of April are now the winds of May, and while it blows away the “skeeters” it also blows away fly fishing by skiff going out of the GISP.
One morning was spent in the Port O’Connor system and there was a lack of fish and abundant noise from the one airboat we saw passing close by and heading to an illegal roundup of redfish not too distant. More on that later as well. There were no sighted shots for us there that day, while the second morning I had a weather opening in Rockport where I took advantage of sheltered wind to drift a couple of miles, spotted five reds that were suspended, and had zero chance to load and shoot in their direction. The fish this past week were looking as stunned, by what we do not know, as we were stunned by the wind. It was a beating plain and simple, and the truth.
Taking Only Memories
We always take memories away though, don’t we? My visual imprint is the tarpon I hooked down in the Port Aransas area, foot on hard ground, and while prospecting with conventional gear. There’s a story that doesn’t get written, but a 30-inch tarpon eight feet in the air on the third jump … and that spoon flying back at me? Acid etched in my memory forever.
The Weeks of May Ahead
The list of stories and videos from the last week is extremely long. We also have a sudden explosion in the sales of the Fly Line Mat … for reasons I have yet to pin down in an analytics sense. That is a busy thing unto itself, add a couple of guided trips, art sales … and whatever I have missed mentioning – and you get the picture. BUSY. The list of the undone is much longer now than the list of things done, and that’s not a good thing in my world. It amazes me that I still have a Old Town Sportsman 119 sitting, wrapped and unused after something like two weeks! That tells you, and me, something!
Thanks for reading and stay tuned as the mats get made, the words will flow as well. (Subscribe to new stories here on the site.) The Coast was an enlightening experience in many ways, and I hope you like words because I have a few for you! Of course there will be videos on the YouTube Channel as well, so go there and SUBSCRIBE TODAY! (If you subscribe, you will be notified when new videos drop.)
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