Louisiana redfish fly courtesy Captain John Iverson.

I couldn’t help but feel like a “dude” as I lined up my two rods by the boat, and slipped them into the fly rod holders in the Mitzi. All clean, and pressed in Simms this and Simms that, I tell myself it’s the right gear (like the Mitzi rod holder areas) for the job, no matter what the name is. Still I feel a bit too clean.

We push off, crank up and idle out through the narrow channel lined with piers and boats. It’s not early, but early enough in The Big Easy. I always wonder if the guide wishes we were earlier or later, but the cloud bank covering the sun tells me all I need to know. This is going to be tough without Mr. Sun to light up the redfish TV. Outside the no wake zone, we are on plain in a flash, and running at 30 through the maze of channels, open water and marsh. Obviously, the Captain knows his course, there are no navigational electronics on board, like the back of his hand.

Bundled against the morning wind, up and running.

We finally drop off plane and the Captain cuts the engine. Stealth is the rule, and he hops onto the poling platform and starts moving us down the edge of a grass line. The wind is enough to ripple the water, and as we continue to pole, ripple the Captain’s confidence as well. If I were doing this, I would definitely point out the disadvantages as well, a cloudy day, a windy day, all would be noted disclaimers.

On deck. Looking for signs of famous Louisiana redfish.

I’m up first, and that vision thing just isn’t working yet, as I see a few small fish dart under the boat, and larger mud clouds further away – the telltale signs of spooked reds. Then I see a huge fish pass under the boat like a subsurface smart bomb at least three feet long. Now I am the one who’s spooked. There’s still no “shot” to be had though, so we pole on, and on. The show is awesome from the vantage point of a casting platform two feet above the deck of a Mitzi Skiff in the Louisiana marshes. When the sun peaks, the water TV is on, and it’s the best episode I’ve ever seen. Right off I see a red the size of one of those Baghdad cruise missiles pass under, stabilizer fins out and moving subsonic without apparent propulsion, self correcting and gone. This, I say, is not for the weak hearted.

Captain John describes directing someone where to cast. “like playing a video game with a broken console.” However we eventually tune in.

I give my turn to JG after who knows how much time, and he steps up to the platform like a batter stepping into the box. Time to kick back and enjoy the ride. Shots aren’t coming quick, clean or often. Getting into a groove is impossible.

The sun works its way up, and I am back on the platform, when finally I get a shot, more like a point blank drop on about a 20-inch red. I drop, and it hauls under the boat in a cloud of mud. Another shot a little later, at ten feet, nets a weak set and slight tug followed by a loose fly and rocketing fish. Gone. Now I look inside, and wonder how all this will end. Overreacting to sight casting for redfish is pretty easy for me. Perhaps it’s just too much “See the fish. Be the fish,” for my mind to handle.

The hours drift by, through lunchtime shrimp poor boys, and back onto the platform. It’s amazing how weak my legs feel as I adjust to the rock-and-roll of the Mitzi. Time to get back on the bike, again with the new year resolutions.

We pick up several times and move through the marshes, sliding sideways through turns in the tight channels, out in the open and tight again. We find an unlimited supply of shores to pole and an unlimited supply of wind. The Captain is huffing and puffing a bit between cigarettes. Morale is like a top spinning down and beginning to show some wobble. My “report the story no matter what” is starting to look more like a curse than a blessing.

I take to heart “keep a line in the water” by casting blindly to shorelines and backhanding into channels. Now we are conscious of time, and moving more to find fish of any size, and get on the board. Pick up and move.

Whether because of the level of action, or self centeredness, I find myself on the platform again on the next stop – a fairly wide backwater we enter by poling through another of those narrow channels. We are about to make the turnabout and head out when I feel a stop on one of those blind backhand casts into the channel.

I finally make good. Twenty minutes worth and deep backing.

I set the hook for luck, and the fish heads about fifty feet into the wide backwater in a heartbeat. The bend in my ten weight Z Axis, and the sound of the drag on my Tibor tell us all that this is a fish. Then a change in direction, a 180, and it’s headed into the narrow channel – hoping to get all the way through and out into the open water.

The long run takes all my line, and now we’re into the backing, and into more backing. I have a good bend in the rod, and the boat is starting to move with the fish. Side pressure, side-to-side pressure, all give the same result – a standoff. She’s wanting to make the turn in the narrow channel when the Captain decides it’s time to follow for real. There’s no headshake, no turns, just a tugboat beginning to move us.

All the while, I am getting peppered from the peanut gallery; “It’s probably a big ray. Maybe it’s a black drum. Watch out for those oysters! They’ll cut you off!” All I know is there is one big head shake, and I finally get back all my backing. Finally, a tail swirls below the surface, and leaves a boil the circumference of a five gallon bucket.

After twenty minutes we get the fish down to five feet of line and a fully down leader. I finally muster the courage to put enough on the rod to make her surface, and we all see that it’s what we are after – a 30-inch plus red. She’s beat now, and the Captain reaches out the back of the port side and tails her. “She’ll go forty inches. Looks like twenty-five pounds,” the Captain said.

You try holding 25 pounds of slimy, pissed off redfish – it’s a blast!

The photos are as goofy as anything I have ever been in because this is the biggest fish I’ve ever caught. She’s heavy enough, and my arm is weak enough from the fight, that I can’t even hold her out toward the camera for the distorted porn shot being demanded of me. Of all the luck to have Jerry along to witness and document with great photography skills, what he keeps calling, “The fish of a lifetime.” I don’t disagree as she is released almost exactly where she was caught.

Winded, and overwhelmed, I crash on the ice chest, we pull up and motor out to another spot. The wind is dropping now, but the sun is dropping a bit too. We start to watch the clock more intensely. Jerry is on the platform when the Captain guides his cast right to a waiting eight pound redfish. He’s on the board, and the fight is a good match to his Xi2 nine weight. We land him, and he’s a bright red specimen with beautiful mature coloration. Some more photographs follow, and I hope I can return the favor of good photographs to Jerry and his Louisiana redfish.

A beautiful specimen caught in the Louisiana way – sunlight, sighted, cast, tempted, hooked, set, fought and landed.

Finally, we both are on the board, the winter sun is dropping, and we’ve had enough. It wasn’t a typical quantity day by Louisiana standards, but the quality was outstanding. It’s time. We pull up, grab our seats, and settle in for the hour ride back to the launch. Even the ride back seems fast. Maybe it’s the anticipation of seeing the photographs, or telling the story.

NOTE – I am going to run a post of more photographs from this trip in the next few days. I hope you enjoyed the day in the Louisiana marshes.

… Then it must be because the trip to the Louisiana marshes for redfish went well.

I know you must wonder about fly fishing writers who float around in the blogosphere, and have stories that start so clearly; “I’m going fishing … ,” and end right there. Not a word. That’s because they (the writers) haven’t learned the simple trick – don’t talk about a thing in advance, and only write about it after you have fish porn firmly in camera. Texas Fly Caster’s policy has always been to report – whether it was fishing or catching – no matter how much it effort is spent in striking out. There was a moment of doubt (as to this policy) on this trip, but only a moment.

The trip to New Orleans was originally planned for before Christmas, but the guide called it off and we rescheduled it due to weather. It’s nice when you can make that change and not explain it to readers. So we scheduled it for January 16. That’s one day of fishing sandwiched between two flights, one late the day before, and one early the day after – a real in-and-out adventure.

As if to add to the excitement, one of my friends just got back from the marshes, a Tailwaters sponsored trip to the Plantation. What he told me was enough to plant a few seeds of doubt. “The water has to be clear, and the sun needs to be shining,” he warned. “Otherwise you can’t see ‘em. They were acting strange anyway. We didn’t see them slamming bait on the grass lines, and you just couldn’t see nervous water,” he said.

He asked who my guide was, and I couldn’t say; we were going to be running through Uptown Angler and one of their guides. “Your guide can make you or break you there. Ours … just didn’t seem to want to really work to find fish. No matter what, you’re going to make a fairly long run to get to the fish,” he said. That begins to put the idea of shooting another episode of Kayak Fishing Journal in proper perspective. We got off the phone, and I checked my e mail for the porn he said he was sending. Sure enough, a bit more fuel for the fire.

Adding fuel to the fire – Louisiana Marsh redfish porn. Courtesy Chris Weatherley

The Premise

Lest I skip over how I was dealt the luck that takes me to one of the hottest fly fishing spots in the US, if not the world (because of famous winter bull redfish), let me tell you about a guy. He’s an interesting cat, and happens to be a photography client of mine and a photographer himself. Jerry Goodale and I discovered our mutual interest in fly fishing only recently, when we started working together more often on projects last year. Not only does he have a healthy fly fishing addiction, he has focused some of his energy on a few clients that cater to that addiction. A fly fishing lodge in Canada and a resort in Belize have both done a decent job of feeding his need for fly fishing. He’s a hunter as well, and Africa made his itinerary last year. I think you get the picture, the big picture. A brilliant strategy, I think.

How I came into favor, I will not presume to question. It could be my abundance of charm, or steadiness with a camera that helped me make the grade. I wonder a little, but care less. You know what they say, “The sun even shines on a dog’s a$$ some days.” It all started with an obscure text that went something like, “Louisiana redfish.” To which I replied, “yeah awesome.” He responded, “fly fish for reds in Louisiana.” Cryptic texts are part of the package. “Yeah, they’re there now,” I replied in growing pain for not being able to go. “Do you want to go?”- he tapped out. “Sure, but I can’t afford it,” I tapped back. “No. Do you want to go?” – again. I knew the answer to this one, “yes” was the simple, but loaded, answer. Besides, it’s not good to act too excited, you know – cool.

The Plan

It’s a simple plan really, and from Dallas on Southwest Airlines, it is a hop-skip-and-jump to New Orleans. One stop on this flight in Houston, and we are on the ground in New Orleans in about three hours time. With no plane change and flying Southwest, checking a valuable bag of rods and reels is a less risky proposition.

From the airport, we’ve got to get downtown to the hotel. (TIP – We took the airport shuttle at almost $40 each round trip. Do some research, and see if you find a better way.) The ride takes us right into the heart of New Orleans, and it’s still easy to recognize landmarks brought to us in living color – courtesy Hurricane Katrina. The photojournalist’s search for waterlines, any telltale flotsam and jetsam is, for this photographer, unavoidable. It looks untouched, much different from the time I was here about six months after the hurricane – even cleaner it seems than when I was here for the IFTD show last year.

We checked in, dropped bags, and hit the street for some Cajun food. If you are going to stay in the Big Easy, you are going to be eating – a lot. I can think of no better place to stay, nor any more practical solution for the cohorts who may be traveling with you (not fishing), than to be in the heart of New Orleans. They can have their fun while you indulge your addiction. The food, and lodging in The Big Easy does come at a price though. It depends on the time of year, but you’re looking at a four $$$$ on my artist’s five scale. *Check comments for restaurant details.

We hold our priorities in order, and are lights out by ten on a Sunday night. Sleep is easy, even though the onetime city, now a town, never ever sleeps. Shut eyes, alarm goes off.

On a Monday Morning Sidewalk

Captain John Iverson pulls up in a beautiful example of a bygone era, a 1994 Ford Bronco, two tone brown over gold, perfect on the outside. Attached is, I rub my eyes for luck as much as sleepiness, one of the sweetest boats on the street – a Mitzi. Does it get any better?

Introductions, and we find a place for our rods in the back of the Bronco, and are off hitch rattling echoes down the empty city streets outside the Quarter proper, to the Marshes. Captain John gives us a rundown of where we are going -the Biloxi Marsh, and where we are launching – Breton Sound Marina. The boat ride will take about an hour.

“You get your fishing licenses,” he asked and we replied in unison, “No.” So many different states, and the usual idea is to hit some sweet smelling bait shop, scribble out the forms, get a copy and off to the more important things. “No problem. You have smart phones? You can do it online or call this number, ” The Captain had it together, but do yourself a favor and purchase your license in advance, and forget about navigating a governmental website with a smart phone – make the call if you’re on the road.

Talk amongst guides inside Penny’s Cafe.

Just about the time I confirm the billing for a day’s worth of legal Louisiana redfishing at $8.50, we stop at Penny’s Cafe in what I guess is Hopedale. A shrimp poorboy and ham and egg sandwiches are waiting inside. Captain John stops to talk shop with a few guides gathered at a table in the restaurant – the early birds. A couple of them have a serious case of the raccoons, those goggled eyes from their sunglass coverage, the exposed skin extra Cajun crispy.

Gassing up the Mitzi at Penny’s Cafe. Just another day in paradise.

Back in the truck and on the move, the banter bounces around the inside of the Bronco, and passes through enough fly fishing talk to give Captain John a clue of the skills of his clients. We talk sighting, and how to directionally “clock-in” to twelve o’clock high. “Another guide said it’s like playing a video game with a broken console,” in reference to zeroing a client in to sight a red. We laughed on that for a while.

Captain John Iverson at the wheel of his 1990 Ford Bronco, headed for the boat launch as the sun finally shows through in South Louisiana.

TO BE CONTINUED …

If you haven’t been to The Reel Life in Santa Fe in awhile, they moved next door.

In what amounted to a quickie, we spent a day-and-a-half on the ground in Santa Fe, New Mexico, this week and managed a short visit with Toner Mitchell at the Reel Life Fly Shop.

I hadn’t been by in awhile, so I immediately did a double take, as they switched locations with their neighbor, and moved into am smaller, more intimate spot. And one of the bigger draws, even though the town is full of great bookstores, Borders Books, is gone with the wind.

“We like the new spot. We used to get walk through traffic in the other location, and people stopping in because they were headed to Borders. Now we are more of a destination fly shop. People are coming in to the fly shop because that’s where they intend to go,” Toner said.

Just like Texas prairie lands that were burned to a crisp, the areas burned by New Mexico’s wildfires are enjoying a rejuvenation, “They are measuring the nutrients in the soil after the fire, and it obviously did a lot of good (the fires),” he said.

Toner Mitchell, operations manager at the Reel Life in Santa Fe, New Mexico.

It’s also easy to forget that important wilderness areas around Santa Fe were heavily damaged by fire last year. Toner tried to put it into perspective, “I was worried about you guys (Texas) because if it was this bad here, it must have been worse there,” he said.

They were also concerned about the economic impact the fires would have on their guided trip bookings, but it held steady for awhile. “As the fires burned for weeks, the cancellations started coming in,” Toner said.

Toner went on to say that there was one other silver lining to the fires in New Mexico last year. “We had the same thing going on here that is going on in national politics. Our State politicians were polarized and nothing was happening,” Toner said. However, the fire, and the extent of the physical and economic destruction brought both sides together to agree and cooperate with economic relief and a good hard look at the reasons why the fires happened, and how to prevent it from happening again in the future.

As for the Reel Life, the change of ownership, and their business; Toner thinks the change of hands was a good thing, and although their morale took a bit of a beating in 2011 (guys coming in all the time and asking if there were closing), he is looking forward to 2012.

“We’re going to have seven guides this year,” and there doesn’t appear to be any residual effects from the fires. “Guys got their fish last year, after the fire,” and Toner doesn’t see any reason why it wouldn’t be just as good this year.

While much of the focus in New Mexico fly fishing is on trout fishing and trout habitat (we talked at length about the project at the Navajo Quality Waters), Toner gets a spark when talking about catching pike in the Rio Grande. “The big ones are coming out right now. It’s pre-spawn. It’s a sight fishing thing too, just like carp on the flats,” he said. According to Toner, you may just see a little flash of pink that gives them away. Once you spot them, it’s a cat-and-mouse game of tempting them into the take. I have to get some of that.

For those of you unfamiliar with Toner Mitchell, he just had an article run in the November-December “Southwest Fly Fishing” magazine – “Chama River, NM El Vado Stretch,” and has something coming out soon on the Rio Grande pike fishing. He’s also president of the Truchas Chapter of New Mexico’s Trout Unlimited.

Note – In a quick shifting, and perhaps grinding of gears, I will be doing the quick turn around and in New Orleans (headed for the marshes) for a day of fishing. It’s one of those, “If you don’t hear anything, then nothing happened,” kind of trips, but the weather looks to be lining up for a day of fishing Monday in the Louisiana salt. Talk about burning the candle at both ends … stay tuned …