Snook Trip – That Afternoon

After we made it off the rocks and slumped, dripping, in the relative warmth of Don’s truck, we had to laugh. Something about experiencing the rawness of nature and emerging safely always brings a smile to my face, a reminder of the unpredictability of my chosen passion. Take it each day at a time and live thoroughly.

We took some time to clean up and dry out, grabbed some food and made the decision to head over to The Salty Fly Shop in Port Isabel, owned by Larry Haines. Larry is famous for developing one of the most realistic shrimp flies around – the Haine’s Supreme Hair Shrimp.

My take on the Haine’s Shrimp

 

After stopping in and chatting a while, Larry gave us some very good tips on understanding snook behavior and suggested a few places we might like to try. It seemed that a moving tide was the key – without moving water the fish were lethargic and nearly impossible to catch.

The tide charts indicated we should be fishing and not standing around talking about it, so we thanked Larry and headed out.

First stop – South Bay. This was our first time fishing the fabled bay, and we were raring to go. After making our way there via kayak, we got down to the business of finding fish. When looking over a new patch of water for the first time, it can be intimidating. Gathering as much info as you can prior to your trip can be really helpful – we had a rough idea of where to go and what to look for. We slowly paddled along, eyes wide and ears open for the sights and sounds of feeding fish.

The squall we had gotten caught in that morning had roiled up the water so that sight fishing was difficult. Don decided to post up in a likely location and fan cast while I crept down a shoreline, sitting sideways in the kayak and crabwalking. The wind was blowing around 15 which made it hard for me to stand and pole, so I used it to my advantage to keep the boat close to the mangroves and other shoreline cover.

Using a topwater as a search fly, I covered every bit of structure I could see, hitting potholes, oyster piles, mangrove tangles, dropoffs and drains.

Nothing. Not even a piggy perch rise.

And then the tails started popping up – first, way down the shoreline. Then suddenly, all around me. Silvery grey like black drum, but not shaped right. I eased close to one, and found myself looking at the vertical black-and-white bars of a sheepshead. I’m telling all you sheepie hunters out there – you want a shot at a sheepshead on the fly, South Bay is the place to go find them. I saw hundreds of fish.

I could have stopped and fished for them but sometimes one has to make the decision to ignore fish to find fish. I continued my way down the shoreline, trying not to bump my boat into oyster patches and casting as I went. After a half mile of this I decided to post up on a grassy point and wait to see if I could find any activity. Resting in the grass, I watched dozens of sheepshead and mullet swim by in the green tea colored water.

I had been watching a wall of clouds far to our south, so I decided to pull out the phone and check the radar to get an idea of what was coming.

Oh… Snap.

 

Yeah. It was time to go. We battled our way back across the increasingly windswept bay to the launch, and arrived mere minutes in front of the approaching squall.

 

Just ahead of the rain..

Time to go meet the boys at the house and see the cast of characters we’d be fishing with for the next few days.

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