Undeterred by rough weather, we crossed the bay, made camp, and began our pursuit. I’ve dragged my feet putting the rest of this entry together. The truth is that there is no great story to tell about giant flying fish or long battles. The sea was relatively calm, several bait balls being molested from above and below, but very few of the species we were looking for. The first afternoon out there we saw some sharks on bait but we were reluctant to seriously fish for them. Brady caught one
spanish mac out of there before the frenzy dissipated. Back on the camp shoreline the ladyfish were abundant. The boys and I got lots of action before dinner. The highlights of that day were seeing the sharks, and my grilled chicken, pasta and red sauce. It was an uncomfortably warm night with a little rain and wind. The next day more of the same, but this time there were no sharks. Again, no target species to be found and the ladyfish were faster to grab the fly than any other fish attacking the bait. Another concern was that we needed more gas. We had enough to get back but not enough to be running all day. I spotted
Billy Sandifer’s truck on the north jetty and Harrison scored a few gallons for us. We were back in action but we left Brady to believe we were still going to be low on fuel for the ride back. Fishing continued to be slow. Brady and Harrison checked out the surf but were unable to stir up much action. That afternoon I also spotted Craig Ottman on the north jetty. He and
Larry Hanes jump and land more tarpon in South Padre Island than about anyone. Ladyfish saved the day for Brady and Harrison, but I was getting frustrated. My pinto beans, Italian sausage, onions and cilantro dinner helped a little. By now I had a collection of wet and sandy clothes and equipment. That night was not as bad as the previous one.
During the night I was awakened by scratching and tapping outside my tent. It was a strange land crab. I’m still trying to identify it. He wanted to tell me something, but I told him that I did not speak strange land crab. So, he went away.
The next morning, and our last chance at success, brought several rolling target fish near the end of the north jetty. The activity did not last long and we had not hooked up. So, we went back to searching. Heavier weather sent us back to take down camp. We voted to check out the redfish scene on the way back in, and that we did. With a fully loaded craft and Brady still under the impression that we’d be rowing at some point, we stopped at a flat just after passing another angler. We didn’t think anything of this lone angler in the self-painted camo boat, but later at a gas station I learned that it was my friend Darren Jones. We all had shots at reds but no one closed the deal. How is that I kept running into people I knew while in a remote part of the Texas coast? It turns out that all of the fellow anglers I ran into did just OK, but not stellar. One said that it is about to get really good. See you in October.
