| By TStubb I was killing some time waiting for my wife to come back from Lake Jackson
(shopping, as usual and my 'Burban was broke down, as usual)and I thought I would try some
different-looking wave patterns with my "secret lure". These broken wave
patterns normally indicate an uneven bottom contour that allows the fish to lie in ambush
for the disoriented baitfish. Sometimes it also indicates an obstruction on the bottom
like an old pipe or piling. I was out beyond the third bar in the yak, throwing back to
one of these spots when I hung up on one of these pilings...I thought. Then the whole
world started moving down the beach toward the Surfside jetties. I was throwing 12# test
line and the bait had one small treble...super sharp, but small. Thank goodness for the
kayak! She took about 30yds of line before I got the yak turned around and headed in the
same direction.
Then I just tightened up the drag a little and rocked back for
the ride of my life. Its not unusual to fight big fish like this from a kayak, I've done
it with bull reds before, but not in the surf and not on 12# line. A half mile later, she
turned toward the gulf with no sign of easing up. I just knew this was going to be the
end. But, after going off shore for about 50 yds, she turned up the beach and here we went
again... almost back to the spot where we hooked up. By this time she was getting tired
and so was I. As I started gaining on her, I started to think about her condition...was
she as tired as I was...probably a whole lot more.
I decided to try to lead her to shore and save some of that
fighting energy for another day. As we approached the 2nd bar, I bailed out with the kayak
and fish in tow and led her to shore where I could get the hook out. It was deep[ in her
throat where the needlenosed pliers wouldn't quite reach. I had to fumble through my dry
storage to find some longer hook-outs, knowing
the whole time that time was getting short for this ole gal. I wouldn't have cared as much
for any other lure, but this one was my first prototype and very special. When I finally
got the lure out, she was beyond reviving...believe me when I say I tried...I really
wanted her to live on.
That was a bitter-sweet end to a wonderful fight. There's a
special bond between a fisherman and a lunker fish that has given his/her all for the
fight to end all fights, literally. You guys/gals know what I mean, or you will.
The days are getting longer now. Soon it will be time to hook up
again. Soon it will be time to anticipate that every throw could hook up with a fish like
that. Soon it will be time to swap stories in person. Soon it will be time to share this
moments...together.
Pittbull (taken from message board in answer to a
TStubb message)
I put brand new tires on my trusty bass boat and as I was placing
the wheel onto the hub , one of my customers came up at the store , so after waiting on
him I resumed work preparing the boat for the upcoming fishing trip.
On the way home from the store that nite I lost my brand new tire
and wheel, forgot to tighten the lugs. Couldn't find the wheel that nite so we came back
the next morning at daylight and never found the missing wheel.
Went to Wally world and bought a pair of tires and rims since
they were cheaper than a single tire. Went to the camp and lost my $400.00 SS prop in 38
feet of water smack in the middle of Jourdan river, trolled 5 hours back to the camp
"thank god for extra batteries" drank a case and a half of Bud Light on the way,
fell out of boat onto bank, stood up and fell back into boat, stood up again fell onto the
pier and bounced off into the canal. Lost my new hat. Woke up the next morning and didn't
remember any of the falling down and out experience. Wanted to know who jumped on me last
nite, the wife informed me of my antics with the canal. Put the spare prop on and fished
with hangover for several hours .
On our way back to the camp the lower unit in the boat locked up
. Had to troll one hour to camp this time and died of thirst on the way since I was out of
beer.
After all this I became an extremist on boat maintenance and she
aint failed me since. I love my yak except can't haul enough beer on her.
Borg
It was June, 1981. I talked my brother Kip, two years my junior,
into wading Cold Pass with me. Kip is not a big fisherman, but when he does go he is GOOD!
We were tossing pink Kelly Wigglers with a white head. Was then and still is one of my
favorite combos.
We waded out through the muddy flats, headed west toward the pier. Didnt get a bump the
whole way. When we got right up next to the pier the tide started ripping out. After about
ten minutes Kip threw his jig out and let it hit botton. He just started to kind of drag
it through the mud. He hooked up on a big trout. Then another. I was jerkin' mine like I
usually do and he said
"slow down...they're scooping shrimp out of the mud!" I let the next cast settle
and immediately hooked up. We caught about 15 trout and strung ten. Some idiot in a boat
saw us catching fish and motored in right on top of us and that was IT!
We exchanged some friendly (not) words and jestures with the boater. Then we showed him
our stringer, just to rub it in, and went back to the truck.
We stopped over at Sy's and weighed the stringer. !0 fish and it was over 50 lbs. I don't
remember exactly but i think about 52. We had two trout that were slightly over 8 lbs and
about 28" long. Mom and dad nearly choked when they saw that stringer. We
had a big poker game that night and fed about 15 people. I've only caught one trout bigger
and that was off the Quintana Jetty during the infamous freeze of 1983. She was
29-3/4"...could of maybe stretched to 30.
I don't think I've caught a trout over 5 or 6 lbs. Since.
Nerfboy
My dad and I were fishing off of Sam's pier on the Sunday night
before Labor Day 1999. I had started fishing that summer with a friend who taught me how
to really catch the specks at night under lights. I talked my dad into going with me that
night and I promised him we would catch some fish.
It had been awhile since my dad had been fishing so he was pretty rusty with his 5000 and
Millionaire so he had more than his fair share of bird's nests and subsequent losses of
popping corks getting caught up in the pilings. Needless to say he was getting a little
frustrated so he fished the leeward side of the pier while I fished into the wind on the
opposite side, but he was a trooper and never complained.
We had been fishing for about an hour when I caught a nice 18" speck on live shrimp.
I keep telling dad, "hang on, you're next, they're gonna bust lose now", but the
fishing remained slow for the next hour. Mind you we had the pier to ourselves that night.
Sam was the only other person who came out.
Just as Sam come out to check on us I hooked up with a big trout. After I got her to the
surface, Sam looked at it and said "you gotta net?" "Nope" I
said. "Then that's what we call a 'walk up'" Sam replied. I then
walked the fish up the pier and onto the shore and ran down the pier onto the beach like a
14 year old. She was 23", the biggest fish I had ever caught. But we weren't done
yet.
I immediately re-baited my hook and casted back out into the surf. Meanwhile my dad wasn't
getting any bites. I told him that he needed to throw into the wind and the current and
let his bait get close to the pier and then reel it in before it gets to close to the
pilings but he said he couldn't cast into the wind due to backlashing. I offer my Zebco 33
but he said he would just fish the
other side.
I then took my 5000 off and decided to give the Zebco 33 a try. I got it as an
"early" Christmas present from my dad when Iwas about 11 or 12. He bought the
reel at the Gibsons in Sweetwater while we were visiting my grandparents. The Zebco 33 was
what I learned to fish.
Back to the story.
I re-rigged and casted out and started to reel in the slack.
Right when I was just about ready to pull it out something hit my line and almost pulled
my rod out of my hands! I shouted to my dad and told him that I thought I had a red
or at least something big. I had never had something that pulled as hard as that fish was
pulling. I had loosened the drag on the 33 quite a bit so that I would loose the fish but
the drag was stuck. I gave the line a tug and that freed it up and then the fish
took off for Mexico. I couldn't see my cork but the line (12# Stren) was coming off that
Zebco like it had never come off before. My hands were shaking as I waited for the fish to
quit running. To add to the excitement several good size waves decided to come in which
slowed down the fish and actually pushed the fish back a little, but between the waves it
gave two more runs.
After that, the fish was played out, but the waves had pushed it under the pier and I
thought I would loose it for sure. My line was being rubbed on the pilings and I thought
that it would get cut off. My dad told me to get directly over the fish and guide it out
of the pilings. Amazingly enough we got her out from under the pier and into the light. It
was the biggest trout I had ever
seen in person.
We noticed that the fish had a dark spot on top of it's head that we couldn't explain. I
then dragged it to the beach and once again ran down to retrieve it. This is the good
part. The black spot on the fishes head was where the number 10 treble was foul hooked
into the head of the fish! I just couldn't believe it. I took the fish up to show my dad
and we just marveled at her. All
27" of her curled up both sides of my ice chest. It was and still is the biggest fish
I have ever caught.
I'll never forget that night, but what made it so special was that my number one hero was
with me that night, my Dad. Here's to ya Dad, one of the smartest guys I know!
Tig
Back in the 70's our family and two others owned about 300 acres
with 3 lakes on it just south of Diboll. The big lake was about 8 football fields in size
and had a 35' deep spot where the Naches River once ran. Largemouth bass were kings of the
lake and managed to reach to 5 to 7 pounds occasionally. I grew up fishing this lake and
could still remember the hot spots after being away from it for 20+ years.
During a family reunion, Papa George (was in his 80's) and I were fishing minnows under
corks off the little pier. I don't remember where everyone else was, but it was just he
and I.
Suddenly his rod bowed deep and we both knew he had a big'un. Mind you, we were no expert
fishermen, so we didn't know how to tire out a fish or anything fancy... just reel it in
fast on a Zebco 202! He managed to get it up on the pier and grabbed it. I would
love to have a picture of that now, us with our eyes like saucers and grinning ear to ear.
It had to be an honest 8-pound plus bass. Before we could even register what was really
going on, the fish wiggled free of his hands and fell back into the water. But wait, it
was still hooked, and guess who was holding granddad’s rod? ME!
My turn didn't last more than 2 seconds as it managed to get off the hook. All the same,
we were more astonished than disappointed. We looked around to see if any family witnessed
the catch, but they didn't show up until a little while later.
I don't think any of them believed our fish story, but looking back on it now, I'm kinda'
glad they didn't. That was a moment (and fish) that he and I shared and will live in my
memory for as long as I live. He died a few years later.
Borg
This one happened in August too, about 1985 or so.
Me and a buddy paddled a canoe across the Brazos River near the mouth. We stashed the
canoe up the brush and hiked down the beach. There is (or was) a cut from the surf back to
some lakes, I guess Cedar Lakes. We threw a cast net back in the lake and got a bunch of
mullet and mud minnows. We then waded out into the surf and fished those baits on our
trout rods with single hooks and 1/2 oz egg sinkers. We caught redfish after redfish for
about three hours. We figured we caught around 40 or so.The smallest was about 22"
the biggest about 35". We kept our limit and went home tired and happy and wondering
if anyone would believe us.
One thing I'll never forget about this day. It was rainy, thundering and lightning on and
off all day. We got scared out of the water by lightning a few times. One hit so close we
could actually feel it. It was wild.
I haven't had a day quite like that since.
Hook M Up
I went to south Louisiana for the holidays to visit my Dad. We
went to his camp on the Henderson Levee to check things out. I decided to check his
crawfish cages. I took his pirouge(cajun canoe)and went to check 'dem traps. As I was
paddlin around dat ol cypress stump, sometin reached up and flipped my boat. At dis time,
I I didn't know if I was scared or mad. So I reached in da water and grapped hold of what
had my boat and pulled. My dad saw me fighting dis ting and he trowed me a rope. I grapped
dat rope and he pulled me to da bank.
We pulled on what I had a hold of and don't you know it was da
biggest crawfish I ever done saw. We brought it to da house and boiled it. Don't you know
dat crawfish fed 10 people.
POO-YIE
Sam
This (I swear it) is a true story. Back in 1972 or 73, I had an
18' Lamar runabout. I took Sherry and another couple out fishing one day. We had a quart
of shrimp. Well, we got into trout around the sunken ship at the north jetty and were
catching them two at a time on double drop leaders. My bud and I quit fishing and spent
all our time rebaiting the gals' hooks.
They ran out of bait and we were going to quit when Sherry
discovered an old broken cassette tape in her purse.
She cut it into 2" strips and put the strips on her hooks and started catching 'em
two at a time again. We filled both igloos and called it a day. The mix was about 60%
sandies and 40% specks. 156 fish. This was before the limits...and we ate em all.
Surfrat
Long, long ago in a land far, far away (all the way to the mouth
of the San Bernard!) my dad and uncle decided to take me on a fishing trip before I went
overseas with the Marines.
My uncle had one of those old Chris Crafts with the livewells under the middle bench and a
33hp Johnson. We launched right on the ICW there at the river and went west down
toward Cow Trap. We had two whole quarts of shrimp in the livewell which had cost us an
outrageous $2.50/qt and I was having to listen to the old guys talk about how fishing was
rapidly becoming a rich man's sport.
This was August so we didn't have really high hopes of catching a lot of trout and we all
figured we had way too much bait, but those two old geezers only fished daylight till dark
with no breaks so we carried more than we figured we'd need.
We fished hard during the cooler hours in those spots south of the ICW and couldn't buy a
bite. Around two o'clock and what had to be 105 degrees, we pulled into the mouth of Cow
Trap and anchored. For the next three hours there wasn't a moment that at least one of us
didn't have a fish on. At one point all three of us had fish on that went over seven
pounds!
Back then we used stringers instead of truck sized coolers. Within an hour all our
stringers were full and we started putting fish in the one livewell that was now empty of
shrimp. In the end, we were scrounging around in the floor of the boat for shrimp heads or
whatever bits we could find. I joked with my uncle, who always insisted a trout would not
touch a dead shrimp.
When we finally got back to the ramp we had over 300 pounds of specks and we had left with
the fish still biting. My uncle had an old tarp in his truck which we laid out in the bed
of the truck, filled with fish, and then iced it down and wrapped it up. They had a big
fish fry fund raiser for the VFW with our catch.
This, of course, would be an embarrassment nowadays but back then there were lots of fish
and not very many fishermen. If nothing went to waste we didn't feel bad about it.
I've been a mostly catch-and-release fisherman since way before it became the popular
thing to do, but I sure would love to get into the trout like that at least once more in
my life and get the pleasure of watching them all swim away.
No other fishing trip in my life has even come close.
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