THE GATHERING BEGINS

Trapped, as we are here, still reeling from the daily heat, a hot wind, no rain, water levels dry or drying up, it leaves no choice but to do research to boost myour chances of actually scoring a fish at the IFA tour stop in Venice, Louisiana next month.

Last year at the IFA Kayak Fishing Tour stop in Aransas Pass, Texas, I thought it would be too cool to actually place in the tournament with a fly rod – going against a flotilla of locals throwing “top waters,” top waters and more, you guessed it, top waters. All of the fish that placed that day were caught, yes, on top waters. I learned a few things from that tournament. First, find your locals and try and shadow them. Second, we live by the fly rod, and we can die by the fly rod. It’s up to you, but you can always put the fly rod down and maybe pay for your trip. Third, carry plenty of top water flies, and use them. Fourth, find that balance between driving distance and a successful spot when it comes to kayak fishing tournaments. Last, you’re on the salt, so take everything you hear (from the locals) with a grain of it.

TRUE LIES

Attending the “Captain’s Meeting” the night before the tournament gives you the opportunity to go face-to-face with your superior opponents. Look for a) insanely dark tans, including “coon eyes” and fresh sunburns, b) local accents and terminology being spoken, and don’t forget to use your nose; if they smell like a fish, pay close attention.

Now just because they look, talk, or perhaps smell like a fish doesn’t mean they are only as smart as a fish. The conversations always poke and prod into each other with “where you gonna’ fish, what you gonna’ use,” and did you pre-fish today, and how did you do? Most of the guys will share openly, and joke openly about whether or not the truth is being told. It’s not that they are telling lies, they give real information that passes the smell test mostly … it’s just that it may have been true a month ago in another location. So we weigh each other’s information with a grain of salt, leave to get a good night’s sleep, and while we are driving back to our sleeping quarters, we realize we don’t know any more after the meeting than we did before.

ELIMINATING THE VARIABLES

One thing that time (afforded us by the Texas heat wave this summer) gives us if we are headed for saltwater, say the Louisiana or Texas Gulf Coast, is the opportunity to eliminate the variables through copious amounts of research. With the advent of the internet, our research could start here and lead us to find the solunar charts (including iPhone apps with charts) for Venice, Louisiana, next month, look at the lodging in that area (campgrounds, etc…), the discussion boards for Louisiana, what flies are most readily taken, what lures work, and where to apply all this knowledge. After all, this is going to be done without guides and with a kayak not a boat. Take these specifics, and your choices already begin to be narrowed down significantly.

I suggest we start with the topic we have the most time for – flies and lures. Now, there seems to be consensus among fly fishing experts in Louisiana that two flies that rise above the rest are 1) spoon flies, and, 2) crabs. Spoon flies have as many formulas as mom’s meatloaf, but a few have risen to the top based on quality, and rest justifiably – on name. The spoon flies from Texas’ Captain Scott Sparrow, are fairly easy to come by, and much more reasonably priced than the ones by Rich Waldner, at 12-dollars each. The degree of difficulty along with the reputation of the spoon fly, is leading me down the garden path to making my own spoon flies. They do work in freshwater you know! Other than the huge variety of ways to make a spoon fly, the one detail that tweaked my interest is the anecdotal evidence that a purple spoon fly is irresistible to Louisiana redfish. I wonder if that makes them think blue crab?

When it comes to lures, say the wind closes you out, or you want to pay for your trip and entry fee, you could pick up a spinning rod like Lefty Kreh or Flip Pallot are known to do. I grew up with a spinning rod, and once I figured out live shrimp weren’t the only thing specks would hit, I was using MirrOlure and Hump Lures almost exclusively outside of live offerings. So, let’s forget learning how to stick plastics, hooks weights and scents. Hump is long gone, but MirrOlure is still going strong out of Florida. You have to believe that, even though these redfish are pretty low rated when it comes to selectivity, you may have a better shot with new colors of the same old flies and lures. When you work your way down the list of flies it doesn’t take long to get to more familiar territory – shallow Clousers, seaducers, and shrimp seem to be near the top of the Louisiana Delta list of flies as well.

Rods and reels, fly and spinning, lean toward the heavy. I am looking at taking an eight and ten weight (9 footers) with typical fat tropical saltwater weight forward tapers. Straight line leaders starting at ten and up to twenty-five, and bite tippet up to thirty-nine are easy enough to tie and deal with. Spools of good Ande’ mono are also something to take along for mono leaders on crease flies and poppers. Durability takes precedent over presentation. On the spinning side, I am currently looking for a seven to seven-six medium action two piece spinning rod, and will probably go with a Penn inshore size saltwater reel. This time of year we’re unlikely to see the huge bulls that are so abundant in cold months, so we won’t be going as heavy as the bull runs demand.

To be continued …

HERE ARE SOME USEFUL LINKS FOR FLY FISHING IN LOUISIANA

IFA Kayak Fishing Tour
Louisiana Fishing Licenses
Sage Fly Rods
Tibor Reels
Penn Reels
Louisiana State Parks
MirroLure
Rich Waldner’s Spoon Fly
Kirk’s Spoon Fly
Scott Sparrow Spoon Flies

NOTE – There is a flurry of writing going on out here in the middle, with more posts on Venice, Louisiana, fly fishing and an interesting idea to get us through the night – bass fishing at night, lights, lighting and kayak lighting for night fishing.

Out here in the Middle, we lost track of what day it was yesterday. I know today is Friday though, and with a little help from the second shift, I am going to get an earlier start for Amon G. Carter lake this evening. Being motivated by two incredibly disparate days of fishing at Amon G., one documented in the post Looking for Fish Out Here in the Middle and defined crudely as a “slaughter,” had no connection, no relation whatsoever to day two as documented in the post Fly Fishing for Largemouth Bass Out Here in the Middle.

No, today would be the rubber match, where I would either a) know I knew what I knew, or b) again question my existence. In a best of three, I have two things going for me. I will be leaving for Lake Carter an hour earlier, and I have two more magical black-on-black Clouser flies tied in the early morning before heading out here to the Middle. And I grabbed a whole big box of Clousers … just in case.

I managed to pull the words together earlier, in an effort to collect my experience for application tonight. I whipped out the last two posts, loosely related to Carter, in a few hours of organizational mayhem. The internet in the Middle is served up with phone modem cards, and they are … slow. How slow are they? Let’s just say I’m glad I got rid of mine. I am wondering about “jailbreaking” my iPhone, or going legit with a “Personal Hotspot” via iPhone. There just has to be a better way to get out from the Middle.

By now, some of you may have done your digging into Lake Carter, and I’ve even received re-tweets from a twitter follower who recollects fishing there in his childhood. What I look forward to most, besides being out of the Middle, is coming back and giving Carter a good, hard day or two of fly fishing off my kayak. This lake, at its current level sets up very nicely for a kayak, and a conventional fisher would likely have a heyday on Carter Lake.

LAKE ARROWHEAD TEXAS

I whipped the words with such speed and fury that I am pretty sure those previous posts don’t mention a recon. trip to Lake Arrowhead! Arrowhead is a shallow lake, and when I first glimpsed the water, just before dark, I could see that lake was taking it on the chin. All lakes in Texas are getting damaged by this drought, but some less than others, some more. Boat docks are high and dry. Coves have receded to their mouths, and some vessels sit just where the water left them, resembling a post-surge hurricane’s path. I had a feeling Lake Arrowhead could be a good lake, when I got the word-of-mouth on it, and from the little I read on it. I am beginning to believe there are some very good secrets being kept all over this huge state, and Lake Arrowhead really isn’t that far from DFW in the grand scheme of things. It’s just … unknown.

The next thing that captured my attention were the oil wells, in the lake. Yes, oil wells in the lake, and all over the lake. I had heard that, but I had to see it, and now I believe it. They appear to be the old style Spindletop style of galvanized, wide based, pyramidal derricks. At the bottom though, are what appear to be thoroughly modern connections, straws for those beached barges to come along and suck up the Texas tea.

Well after well, and all I could do is wonder how many bass were hanging around that manmade structure like shallow freshwater snapper. I also wondered if the derricks were ornamental, meant to look antique, or actually as old as they looked.
It didn’t take long for me to realize there was little shoreline, or walking access to Arrowhead, and the distance from the Middle would make it prohibitive while on that location. Lake Arrowhead may be smaller by Texas standards, but it would take days to figure it out, and a lot of luck to catch anything with thirty minutes of daylight however many days in a row I hit it. I would have to put this one back on the shelf for a later date.

BACK TO CARTER LAKE

I can hear the too familiar sound of cast nets hitting the water when I arrive, and shut down the Land Cruiser. It’s pretty easy to hear lots of things when traveling with the windows down (no a/c) out here in the middle. The atmosphere does have mercy on us out here in the Middle though; the ozone bubble, a gift of Dallas-Fort Worth and southern coal fired power plants (powering your home a/c as you read this), a bubble more intense in Denton than where it was created, does not reach to the Middle, and temperatures cool much more quickly in the evening as a result of that and lower humidity levels here.

As I make my way toward “the spot,” I hear not one, but two cast nets going full tilt. Looking down on the scene, I see the two locals from the other night, and two more standing in the water and casting. Not good. They are casting on shad bait balls that are being chased into them. Not good. I decide it’s time to get away, and walk another fifty yards before bumbling down the riprap to the water’s edge. I am newly supplied with heavy black Clousers (last round’s killer fly), and once again I let the lead fly.

Thirty minutes go by without a bump. I am starting to think the rubber match will be won by the fish. I plug new numbers into all the variables. Deeper drop, slow retrieve, and fast retrieve yield nothing. Change flies, and again nothing.

I am getting the feeling I need an excuse. As the cast netting locals hop the riprap towards me, wantonly throwing their nets at shad balls trapped against the shore and being bombed from above – I think I have one. I feel like asking these guys what is going through their minds, but I am a long way from home. At least the second set of netters is staying in their spot and destroying fishing in a limited range.

Finally, I catch one largemouth that goes about a pound and a little. The ice is broken, but nothing follows. Still, the cast netters cast, and miss, and cast. They thoroughly demolish the shad without catching any to put on their hooks, and throw at predator fish most certainly swimming away from all the commotion. “Fishing’s not as good tonight,” he says … “I wonder why,” I think but hold my tongue.

Sometimes we’re the lions, and sometimes we’re the lambs. This time, as the snakes start swimming toward my spot on the shoreline, I decide this contest will be continued with a best of three becoming a best of five. It’s only fair. As I stop to converse with the locals, they start to scurry as the snakes come swimming home toward them. In a “Hey Bubba” moment, one of them decides to put his rod tip under a snake and flip it away. The snake instead lands on the smooth concrete embankment at his feet and coils to strike. A full southern-profanity-laced-retreat ensues, backpedaling and all the while parrying the snake with a rod tip. I’m done.

I can feel the charm of Carter lake slithering away from my consciousness as I load up the Cruiser and head back to the Middle.

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