Corpusfishing.com

[Towboat Trash]

And after a long lack of a winter, the sharks began showing back up.


As did the rain, FINALLY.






Along with some Mexican long lines....several miles worth....brand new...


What's that tell you about how close they fish to our beaches? Eh??


You? You're coming with me pal.


And then I'll fish...

What a reel. Love ya, Shimano.





And half the reds on the darn Island were from right outta the bay...

So Max made faces.

While I road hunted more fish so the Homewood Suites retirement home's residents wouldn't starve, including Ralph.


And I eventually healed enough to try an overnight trip again.



Cold still, but fishy...


And just as full of mystery and intrigue...


And full of fresh lumber.

And bulldog toys.

Attack!!!

And at long last, some darn baits got run, and MAN did that knee hurt...

But I have always loved those cold and quiet winter nights, and those green, feisty, angry winter sharks...

And who doesn't wanna get hooked up right away?



And the sandbars ruled for about two weeks....






And the harder fought the victory, the sweeter the reward.



But the times were a'changing, and the wicked winds of spring were on their way.

Bringing with it creatures that no one seems to have ever seen before...what is this??



Who knows what that was...but I do know this, I was dying since before surgery even, to get back behind that dune line to an area whose perimeter remains haunted not by Indians, but by the ghosts of the Army of Occupation whose Civil War battletime service included this one lonely stretch of seashore as far away from the civilization of the Mississippi River and their homes as you could get. Off me and my 850 dollar knee brace would go....unfortunately I didn't know my leg would be bleeding in less than half the distance I would need to go....




Off we go.


And for the millionth time this winter, I would find these strange unnerving tracks about 3 miles back behind that dune line, and I grew angrier and angrier...


And I would find 20mm Auto Cannon casings from the World War trainer planes, that I search for so many times and so many places.


And as the sun fell from the sky in the distance, I would find over 3.5 miles back in, evidence of roads from decades past, and from men we will never meet on this Earth again.


And I finally made it to my destination, and again, was amazed at what I saw.


And the silence as expected 4 miles back was utterly unnerving, and only the vaguely familiar sound of a 5mph draft whistling around my ears would keep me company. Well that, and cell service to text Jeff Wolda and harass his lawn cutting behind...

And the civilization that I so desperately wanted to leave behind slipped away as surely as a leak will sink a ship.....
And through the pain of my knee, I felt I could breath again, that I could think again, that I was no longer just another injured on a handi-cart at HEB fighting for a spot at the lunch meat counter. I so desperately needed and wanted this type of solitude, if only to prove to myself that I could do it. I've never fought a demon before like the feeling of physical inability. As a man, we just don't know how to cope with our bodies saying "NO" to ANYTHING.


So I stopped to wipe the sweat off my brow, and thank the Lord above for helping me heal, and to please keep His watchful eye over me, somehow I just can't seem to help hurting myself on that darn Island. And as the sand blew around me in all directions, I knew I was alone at last....


And as night fell all around me, the stars began to pop, and the silence around me became deafeningly loud and there was no escaping the fear that crept into my bones. This place I was in, it was almost a transient zone, the halfway point between land and sea...a place of constantly changing winds and erosion. A place of ghosts and a place of the unknown. And it finally occurred to me way after the fact that it having become dark at 1715 hours....it was gonna be a LOOOOOONG 14 hours to daylight on that cold ground in that place. So after a restless and dreamfilled sleep listening to an occasional puff of breeze rustle the fabric around me, I awoke right at midnight and listened. Hearing nothing, I rose and dressed, put on boots, and went walking across the flats of the Lower Laguna Madre, searching for what, I knew not. After finding a few bottles that later were dated to the 20's, I laid back down to wait for sun's early rise.


And it was, of course, spectacular.




And I went for a walk after eating an MRE of bacon and eggs.


And only a lonely sky would keep me company.

And an Island in the distance called me out, so off I went.

Padre ladybug from 5 miles back in!


Beautiful.


But soon the time came to leave this place, with the day half over, and the sun high in the sky. With one last glance at the spot of my soul searching, I departed. And quickly found more ancient tracks from the days of Louis' last camp down Island. Look closely.

And some bottles from the 30s.

And more fragments and casings.


And more infuriating and strange tracks right down the middle of the Island 2.5 miles back in. Is nothing sacred?


And the remains of oak motts of the day of William Lloyd's 1891 survey of the Island...old.

And after a 4 hour march of death back out, limping, bleeding from the knee brace, and whooped like no other, I was back. Welcome to the real world?

And promptly discovered the overnight hours harbored an insurgent raccoon enemy force that apparently had conducted reconnaissance on my vehicle and on me.

So I gave up, went home, and returned two days later. To fish!!




And the wicked winds of spring had as expected brought forth the evil blacktip army, which shows no mercy and takes no prisoners!


And I love what my old lady says about the blacktips, "I don't like them, they're annoying! Anyone can catch 10 of them! I want a tiger shark!"

And I hate darn blacktips too, and try to avoid them at all costs, so here we go again....summoning forth Mr. Tiger....






And I would fish with old Vern, Billy's pal and Vietnam vet.



But like life, the fishing was eventless.






But I never give up. Try, try, again.



As more days passed....


And the blacktip invasion continued...



And nature lived on.



And one March day found me stranded down Island deliberately, hunkering down in the dunes until the Norther would pass and I could drive the Island once again.




And the birds of spring would migrate through and keep me company day by day...


And Max too.

And more sharks.

And spring finally arrived.

And found me offshore.

Hanging with birds of a feather, lol.


And rig hopping...











And camping in a darn travel trailer! From.....drumroll please...."Starcraft."

And immediately got a visit from the Border Patrol on fourwheelers wearing skimasks and carrying assault rifles. Really fellas??

And coming off the beach saw how badly they were playing and tearing stuff up.






Man, that's what I call getting those illegals. I mean, why wouldn't they come running to be arrested at the sound of 4 four wheelers doing donuts on a national park?

But the front passed and it became time to fish again.

And with the fishing came the heat.


Roll out!

And late spring found me sitting on the hill somewhere in the lower stretches of the Codo Del Diablo just waiting on the tide to rise, the birds around me to fly, and my rods to bend.


And still chasing that elusive big fish that somehow has escaped my clutches for years...


And sitting in the truck watching glowsticks bob and weave while listening to the outside world drown itself out more and more with each rolling and crashing wave on the bar out in the dark....


But listening to good tunes.

And spending my mornings and early afternoons exploring new structures offshore and in general doing everything my crappy kayak was too dangerous too attempt.


And living life to the fullest.







And chasing dreams through the salt and sea and the spray...



And hanging at Bird Island Basin watching the game warden bust all these fools in 60 thousand dollar monstrosities coming back in with 12 inch flounder, you name it....





And fighting yet another late season cold front every Wednesday....



And finding very very old 30-30 shells from the days of Burton and Pat Dunn....


And finally, the flowers began to bloom.


And old water wells that still held 4 feet of fresh and sweet water....and a few snakes!!





And continuing to hike out new areas way up north island, forgotten about by time...




This...is an actively migrating dune field.



And belly crawling to sneak up on coyotes only to belly crawl into a snake.


And having my home away from home fall apart on me 50 miles down Island at midnight.


But the late season storms rumbled on unconcerned for me and my plight...



And I discovered something one day that stopped my blood cold and brought a lump to my throat for the Island that I love.

Mindless destruction by yet another four wheel drive "club" from out of town just totally out of control. I can't imagine ANYONE trying to climb this hill....senseless.....

And as the wind howled and the grass flew every which way all around me, the lump in my throat grew only bigger for the destruction of habitat for no purpose whatsoever.




And Max wasn't happy either.


And as the fronts began to stop coming in every Wednesday/Thursday....Jeff....LOL....the weed began to pile up as it should on North Island.

And I got back in behind that dune line for any reason whatsoever.


And immediately found what I came for.

A history that remains as full of life to me as if it were yesterday even though decades have passed since a human has contacted these objects.

Interesting....

And more 20mm Autocannon casings from the trainer planes of WWII.



And the winds howled on...


But I howled on myself, right back behind that snakeline...



Well.....? What do YOU....think it is???



And one of my trips took me to an Island off the backside of PINS....to walk it out and to see what might lay on its shores. Surprise, surprise.


TX registration numbers not shown...because I sure enough went ahead and looked them up, called the owner, and discovered that the last registration date coincided with the last boat this owner possessed. It was during a hurricane out of Laguna Shores never to be found, but end up here on this empty and deserted island...with its owner passed away and gone 10 years now....



Cow jawbone? From the Dunn Ranch?

As always, life is a challenge and it weaves and bobs...

Recognize this?

This is the BIGGEST Eastern Murex I've ever seen or heard of... and extremely old.

Almost older than the quest for Jackfish, which we can NEVER have enough of by the way.




And night after night after night after day after day I would hunt those big sharks that continued to just elude me....



So many sunsets...so many dreams and hopes and tears shed for that big fish....only to continue to have the journey actually be the destination


And the path to happiness falling into place with each passing day on Island...

And the blessings that come from being one with Creation and at peace finally emerging.

While the old grouchy, cranky-behind Kronks watched from afar waiting for nightfall to play those darn flutes Billy used to talk about.

And every time I would wander off from camp, I would always find my way back before dark...




To be awoken yet again by screaming drags. This 30 minute fighting fish spit the hook at the 1st bar. Would you wanna come over the bar either?

Problem SOLVED with CALORIES. And carbs. Lol.

Only to be outdone by this. Now I've heard, and been told by prominent ship captains that the western Gulf of Mexico is home to occasional super waves...one ship Master told me one hit them at 3am enroute to Vera Cruz so hard that it moved the ship's safe 10 feet across a room...and you guessed it....all night one night I fought wind and waves and weed on my lines. Finally lying back down after relocating the truck around 345am, I heard a VERY LOUD roar, and sure enough, a rather LARGE wave could be heard sucking back the waves in front of it out over the bar. And if you spend enough nights listening to the wind and the waves and the occasional crazy seagull you will learn to actually HEAR what your ears are so desperately trying to tell you about what's around you. This swell came in like a sledgehammer and yep, you guessed it. Took me OUT in one fell swoop.

Be careful out there fellas.

This is where I was parked until 330 or so. Not good.


What was I left with? This.

My big boy, with no hookset.


And with that, I bid you all adieu. I hope you enjoyed these pictures and some of the fun of making these memories rubbed off a little on ya. If it didn't, well....ya gotta get out there and risk something to gain something. Being off work that long wasn't all it was cracked up to be, and surgeries aren't easy, and every last one of us better give thanks for a healthy body if ya got one. Would I love to spend another 7 months on Island? Put it this way, if I had my way, I'd be right alongside old Louis Rawalt and Ralph Wade in a cabin somewhere down Island in maybe 1949 or so.
The big boy shark I've been looking for hasn't materialized yet, but I tell ya what, I more than likely soaked at LEAST several hundred pounds of bait the last 7 months I was off work, and I've had bite marks and missed hooksets and runs like none of you would believe. And besides, the fishing remains and will only ever be a smaller part of the whole, which for me is enjoyment of the greatest island of solace and peace and mystery and adventure that we will ever know. And it remains up to us all to keep our eyes open and protect these habitats, these waters, and these lands from those who would seek to harm any of them. Like freedom, our lands must be protected vigilantly, or they'll be lost.

Remember the heroes that will soon be with us no more, and may the memories of all of those brave souls never die.

As far as fishing goes, in the words of the great General George S. Patton, "You're never beaten until you admit it." Rest in peace General.

Be safe guys and gals, and remember that it is up to us all to protect these waters and these wild lands that we love so much.

God Bless America.

-Colin
_________________
Protect Padre at all costs for future generations to use and enjoy and never forget our freedoms aren't free.

www.padreislandexpeditions.com

[ironmanstan]

A great report, but I must admit I like the pic of the sleeping dog the best from part 1. Max is cool. My wife likes your pics feel honored. She never said that about mine.
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I LIKE MINE FRIED.

[deputydawg]

I was wondering where you had been! As usual awesome report and pics!!!! Now I'm going to have to go back thru both posts and take my time looking and reading. The first time I am always rushing thru them to look at the next thing, kind of like a kid a Christmas!!! Thanks for sharing the adventures yet again. I'll be ready to buy the first copy if you ever put your experiences in book form.

[Lovethemyorkies]

Thanks for the report. Awesome pictures!!! I hope your knee is better...

[shallowsport]

The fish, the dog, the pictures, and the story. Fantastic!
Thanks

[CopanoCruisin]

Thanks a million for rejuvenating fond memories of earlier adventures of my life's quest. That was,a,quite,interesting spread. It has been over twenty five years that I used to run the island with the likes of Paul Stallings, Jim McClain, Billy Gill, Billy Sandifer, Lee Francis, Mike Gibbs, Gary West, Robbie Adams and a host of others. Your read and pics made it seem just like yesterday. Thanks again. And all remember, some men just never understand the real reason that they fish, obviously the author of this thread has it figured out. Tightlines..........cC

[sapepper]

Wow! Thanks for taking us along for the ride. Hope you heal well! Thanks for helping heal us!

[lifeaquatic]

Non-Stop super cool pictures!!!!!! I'll have to go back several times to let them soak in.

[TexGator]

You have a way of telling stories on this forum that no one else has the ability to do. Gulftrout tells a great story also but yours just have a different vibe about them. Really cool and thanks for helping me mentally escape this office for a while.

[HungerBuster]

Part two was better than part one! Thanks again for taking the time and effort. AND for having such a great read be FREE.
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Fish ON!

[Cricket]

Great pictures and story. Thanks.

[Chef Lefty]

That was awesome. You should consider writing a book and publishing these pictures. Thanks for sharing.
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[Stump]

Awesome as usual. Thanks for taking the time to share.
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CARPE DIEM

[Roofish]

I too love America, nature, & fishing.

& being a Disabled Vet have bad knees & back & walk with a cane.

So my fishing is limited as is kayaking, I have always wanted to fish w/you.

I have read many fishing posts on forums from all over the country.

But yours are ABSOLUTELY the BEST, there are many good posts from lots of experienced fisherman.

But none have the ability that you do to relay the adventure, history & scenery.

I too would suggest that you consider a book, if for nothing else to cover the cost of those custom rods & reels or to donate to the preservation of the island you love so much.

& if you do, I want 1 of the 1st copies

Thank you so much for sharing I always look forward to your posts
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ROOFISH

[Towboat Trash]

Thank ya'll for your kind comments on such a long tirade, rant, diatribe... heck-I suppose there was a reason I was told I had two ears but only one mouth.

I'm honestly glad ya'll enjoyed the pics and whatnot. While there are many experiences and places to learn life's lessons, few offer it all one package. Ole' Padre kinda sorta does to those who try to tame her. But isn't that just like the ocean too?

Ya'll take care and thank you for the kind words. Best fishing.

-Colin
_________________
Protect Padre at all costs for future generations to use and enjoy and never forget our freedoms aren't free.

www.padreislandexpeditions.com