Corpusfishing.com

[Towboat Trash]

Whatsup everyone. Since the last report I've posted we've seen the heat index spike into the triple digits, Arlene barrel its way into Mexico, cold water upwellings make their presence further south, and Ralph Wade the troutmaster himself get onto the saltwater angler with a glorious beach trout! And as always, there are those of us who have the summer fishing bug bad, which is so easy to do when sitting out the hot summer days at work, daydreaming the afternoons away and wishing we were on PINS somewhere with a fishing pole in our hands and the sun at our backs. Nevertheless, I've personally been looking forward to the month of July all year, as so many possibilities are open this month, whether running big baits, fishing BTB, or just erecting a tarp and sitting under it waving at turtle patrol about every 30 minutes. Oh wait...did I say that? So upon getting back from work last Friday, a trip down the island was once again in order. Unfortunately, a lot of my gear was NOT ready to go, certain equipment is broken or damaged, and my leaders are down to the bottom of the barrel and a solid night of rig making would be needed to set things straight. No one likes to start a trip out this way, but due to weekend obligations, I started out Monday morning at 6am with the dash ripped out of my truck and the instrument panel non functional. If anyone....ANYONE....at all besides me would like their dodge ram door chime disabled....pm me and I'll be glad to divulge all the nasty details of my particular year model. Unfortunately, it's not easy.

After several hours of fixing the truck, packing up last minute because I hadn't done so the day before due to other obligations, some phone calls to humminbird about my broken depth finder which is SUPPOSEDLY waterproof but isn't, I felt not ready to go, so I took off down the highway anyway. Little did I know what all I had forgotten to bring. Every trip we forget SOMETHING, but what I had forgotten was so not cool that it should be illegal.

I hit the sand LATE around noon, and the start of the trip was rushed and definetely not my usual style. Without stopping to get water pics, I spotted an unsuspecting hottie and went into full on stalker mode. "Brown Chicken-Brown Cow!"



It was time to leave before getting punched in the face, so off I went. Arlene had flatted the beach out and driving was the best I've seen in months. The water was beautifully clear, until about the 29, at which point the upwelling or some such would begin and the cold and brown water would continue till way south.

And I got some pics, but I don't know what type of jelly this is.





The mullet would prove to be thick as thieves in the wade guts, but....strangely nothing would be in there after them further down the beach. Knowing the fishing would be better north but not wanting to camp in an area I would get runover in, I made the choice to continue south in hopes of better water and good structure. I didn't have time to stop and really fish, and the trip was already strangely rushed....but I wanted baits out that night, and after settling for a strange spot in the 40s, I set up "CRAMP" I mean camp....which shall be discussed in depth shortly....



With the wind howling, the seas a solid 4 foot in the afternoon blow, and the heat of the day dying down, I ate a quick beach dinner of ribeye steak and corn on the cob. What! After dropping it like it was hot in the dunes, I was ready to get down to some fishing and deployed three baits in short order into the abyss of murky water.



And my turtle patrol peeps would stop by on their way home to the shack and even Kat would make an appearance.

With the sun setting over the dunes, and three big big baits out, I sat down and thought about life, the beach that never ends, the women that have come and run, and about what the night would bring, next week, heck even next year....don't we all take the time to do this? It got quiet except for the blowing wind, and no signs of life other than the stars popping out overhead would occur.















With a full moon overhead and a baitwell just full of live mullet kicking and screaming, I abandoned ship and strapped a flow troll to my back and headed off down the beach into the night with nothing but a trout rod, some hooks and leader, and an empty stringer. Does fishing get any better than that? I threw mullet for hours under the full moon sky and in the cold dirty water, no fish were to be had. But I had a blast anyway. I wandered back to camp around midnight and found everything as I left it. It was at this point I realized what I had forgotten.

No pillow, no blanket, no sleeping bag! Not cool. I am a wimp for the comfort of a soft place to sleep at the end of the day. I laid down on the crappy bottom of my tent tot and fought the cramps all night long while listening to the wind howl, the waves crash on the rising tide out over the bars, and my rods flex back and forth on my totally awesome, ridiculously great, Alberto Zertuche custom "Colinator" 3.5 LB weights with 1/8 inch wires and a 8 inch shank on top! No drifting BS here! :cheers Yes, I just named my weights after myself....ridiculous....

With the full moon like a spotlight through my bugscreens, the wind howling, the waves breaking closer and closer on the incoming 6am high water, sleep just wouldn't find me. Now who else has had a night down PINS like this? People, I'm telling you, I finally fell asleep around 3am for 30 minutes...and the dreams began. An old Mexican man showed up at my camp in my dream and told me to sit down and sip some coffee and discuss life with him. In the dream I did, and about 10 minutes into our conversation a freaking bear showed up, and walked up to us 2 feet away, leaned forward, and stared us down eye to eye, and nobody moved or spoke for minutes. I woke up at this point, and asked myself....WHY? Talk about a weird night. No more mixing corn on the cob with steak. At this point, the short drop took a run and a small blacktip came in to me. I released him and laid back down.

Around 4am the medium drop took a run and you guessed it, broken off. Argh. 700 yards of expensive pro braid floating around out there now. After Arlene the darn bars are LITTERED with shells, big ones, and it's strange the structure out there now. Around 5am, I heard a bang....and like last month screamed "prepare to die" and discovered a pack of coyotes and racoons surrounding the truck. And wouldn't you know it, they ran away with my freaking bag of trash and spread it all over the beach. Another random animal attack! And now they're joining forces like a SWAT team of friggin' animals! At 6am the sun rose and I went to retrieve my deepest drop and was broken off again after reeling up the slack! I will now go on record of hereby renaming Power Pro as breakoff Pro.

With the seas looking flatter, I went out to chase down my floats, and quickly discovered massive swells coming in over the bars. With 60 feet of leader in the stern of the yak, 6 lbs of weights, hooks everywhere, and float lines tangled up, I KNEW coming back in was going to be seriously dangerous. There's nothing like turning around and seeing the angry ocean tell you point blank, "You came out here, now let's see if I'll make it easy for you to leave me and go back." The ocean makes no qualms about separating the dumb and the weak out, and sometimes it's just downright doggone indiscriminate. But I rolled the dice anyway. I heard the roar before I saw the roller, and hunkered down for the inevitable. The throw was violent. With my paddle tether instantly wrapped around my legs, and trapped under the sideways yak, I was dragged back across the 2nd bar backwards with no way to breathe und I popped up half drowned somewhere around the 1st bar. Albeit alive. Who won this time mother ocean!

At least my cheap ARSE got my power pro, my weights, my leaders, and my hooks back. After a four hour untangle I headed to the jetty.


But not without Nicaragua pics once again for Rudy, "El Loco Nicaragua Guru Galore Especial."









And I made it.







And me and the "yak of death" once again loaded up for yet another trip together in somewhat protected and calmer surf.


A guy asked me one time, why do you wear a lifejacket, can't you swim? Man if I had a dollar for every time I've been thrown out, dumped, hit in the back of the head with the stern, endo'd, I'd be a rich man. At least this year I haven't been dragged across the top of the 2nd bar and gotten beach rash on my #%$ yet like in 08.

The cold water upwelling or the like was extremely prominent and obviously running from south to north as evidenced by this unique thermalcline...







It got lonely out there offshore, so I fired up the shower radio available from your local "Bed, Bath, and Beyond" and got a little crunk on some Killswitch Engaged. Mosh pit anyone?







Man, I did all I knew to do but it wasn't happening. I trolled, I drifted baits, and I dropped baits down on bottom, and threw poppers. And I almost pulled my pants down and put my butt in the water and my toes in the air to try and SCARE the fish to death in hopes they'd float to the surface dead and ready for cooler storage. And around 5pm, I started to feel bad. Really bad. Nothing was going right, the sun was too hot, the air too wet, the ocean too salty, the day too long, and the girls in corpus christi too darn pretty. When I started staring at my feet without any reason I knew what was going on. It has been a while, but I was getting seasick. When I was a kid I would get that way every first day out on the shrimp boat when we went offshore or four or five days or headed out of state up or down the coast of Georgia. Back then, the captain would curse me out and laugh his butt off. While he wasn't around this time, at least he wasn't there to catch me out of the wheelhouse throwing up over the side while I was supposed to be steering while he slept.

I headed back in to find 5 truckloads of random dudes setting up a huge gyspy camp 50 feet from where I was set up for the night. Next time I fire up the massive system in my truck with some Michael Jackson and start dancing the moonwalk all by myself in my crocs.

At this point, I received a text from the Nick Guru himself yelling for Nicaragua pics, so I left the Janis Joplin gypsy camp area and headed north.

At low low water the wreck was incredible.











Check out this massive formation in the wade gut that is normally covered up with a couple feet of water.





Believe it or not, I stuck my darn foot in this stuff, it was a massive ball of tar. YES! I'm making my claim with BP as we speak. I'm so traumatized now that I can't possibly function without some type of compensation for my loss. Wonder if a tort is out of question...five new Avets here I come.






For the record, this trip WAS quick, this trip WAS experimental for a lot of different gear, there wasn't time enough to really do the fishing I had wanted to get in, I didn't get the photos I wanted, and I'm in no way, shape, or form qualified to give advice, dispense medical treatment, or stand at the gates of Heaven or Hell just yet.

But I do know a thing or two. This trip taught me a little bit, I improved my gear, and I watched, observed, and explored the beach that goes on forever yet one more time. And you know, for now, that's good enough for me. There will be time enough to land the big one that got away and stole my JAWS float last month, and this beach has been around for years and years and I do believe she'll still be there next month, God willing.

Thanks for reading, and may everyone's fishing be fun, safe, and may the beach be kind, and as always, keep the job out of fishing and at work!
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Protect Padre at all costs for future generations to use and enjoy and never forget our freedoms aren't free.

www.padreislandexpeditions.com

[rawlbay]

lol. freakin kayaks on the way back in. always an interesting endeavor.

[Tyler]

Nice report, always entertaining!.
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[Bigrock]

Thanks once again for a great report!

[Scoootr]

great report!
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pura vida

[hornytoadx3]

Thanks for the report. As always cool pics. That jelly looks like a man-o-war.
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When the going gets tough,the tough go fishing...

[landlocked beachbum]

Entertaining....................................... have you ever surfed? If not, learning to would save your A$$ when coning back in on the yak!!! That's not to say that you would never dump again, only that coming in would be less intimidating and expensive!!!!
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Dave


"The difference between genius and stupidity is that genius has it's limits". Albert Einstein