That’s her!” I exclaimed.
My Air Force friend squinting in the direction of the sun now shielding the light from his eyes replies back, “Judging by that tail, if that’s a trout that’s a big one!”
Earlier that morning, Diego met me outside of my house after his night shift at a local hospital. After exchanging pleasantries, I took the keys and drove while he could get some rest before the long day ahead.
As I sipped coffee in the silence of the truck, my mind wondered as the glow of the headlights brought into view highway mile markers which counted down the distance between us and being immersed in the Laguna Madre. Visions of big trout, accompanied by heavy hooksets and strong runs, left me to question my connection knots and equipment. The excitement builds.
As we pull up, we’re greeted by a stiff Southwest wind, and can’t help but curse the weather guessers. After all it was supposed to be North/Northeast and less than 5, but like anything in life how you respond to certain challenges forge who you become as a person - today was no different. Actually this trip should’ve never happened in the first place but a slipped departure date between military training and my deployment allowed me to trade bands of pelicans and a beautiful sunrise versus a steamy desert where everything is the same color brown.
So, surrounded by water in the Lone Star State, we work a long stretch of bank with a noticeable ledge and no more than 3 casts into our first wade I catch a flawless 22” trout on a small soft plastic.
Now with ambition fueled by hope we fish confidently into a Mid morning minor but some time later we have very little to show for our efforts. Many lure and a few location changes later, that same hope we started the day with continues to diminish now carried away by growing wind gusts.
Reflecting back, I can’t confidently say that I wasn’t visibly cussing my weather app, but in my minds eye we were in wall-to-wall counseling. Feeling a bit dejected we decided to make one last move and tuck into a small somewhat protected pocket ladened with mullet to which some announced their presence with their iconic jump. In addition, we also both noticed a few sizable swirls which could indicate some big fish in the area - so off we went.
Our gameplan was to split up, with one fishing shallow and the other a bit deeper. Like the start of our day, less than 3 casts into our wade, I catch a beautiful 26” fish that weighed 5.19lbs on the same small plum colored soft plastic. A quick glance at my watch tells me we’re at the tail end of the minor, but we catch another half dozen fish with another being a cookie cutter as the first but weighing 5.18lbs.
Deciding to alter my offering, despite catching fish, I settle on a sizable lipped jerk bait. Its erratic action and ability to suspend on a pronounced pause fuels my intuition that if a big fish is present this might communicate to her refined lateral line.
Twitching and pausing often, I struggle to cast slightly upwind in hopes to achieve a more natural presentation. After repeated attempts, she eats.
Authors over time, have tried to put into words the violent strike of a large fish. Some successful and others not I’ve found that less is more and the only descriptive offer I can provide is your braided line jumps so hard in the rod guides you can feel it in your toes. After reeling in some slack, I set the hook!
At first blush, the fish seemed content with her surrounding despite my medium light action rod flexing to its break strength. The sheer power of this fish was unlike any of the others I’ve caught. As she moved to my right, I held tension and questioned whether or not she was foul hooked. At that moment, she made 3 back-to-back incredibly long runs and then wallowed on the top of the water.
“That’s her!” I exclaimed.
Diego responded, “Judging by that tail, if that’s a trout that’s a big one.”
Continuing to keep tension, she pinwheeled around me. My feet cemented on the flat now turned like a watch dial, letting her do as she pleased.
Its funny, Doctors have always stated that the body does what the mind tells it, but I would argue it doesn’t apply to trout fisherman. In the brief moments between setting the hook and landing the fish the body and mind experience many things - none of which are the same. As much as you coach your mind into staying calm, you can’t help but physically feel your heartbeat elevate and knees become a little weak. As much as you try to be more physically acute, your mind races into many thoughts and emotions. Its complex to describe but those that play this game know my description and chances are have experienced the same.
Now breathing a little heavier, the fish surfaces beside me laying on her side with a single hook connecting our existence. Sadly for her it was my day and she succumbed to the business end of a boga grip while I marveled at her sheer size whispering a prayer of thanks for letting me catch her.
After a few quick pictures, I snipped a piece of leader material with the help from my friend, to later account for her size which turned out to be 31 1/4”.
As I pause in reflection in the stained waters of the Laguna Madre I stare at why we fish. As the wind splashes the turbid water over her thick grey back, I gently let go and with a strong kick she glides off my hand. Feeling incredibly blessed at that moment, I stare down with a noticeable grin and then turn to my friend.
“Incredible” I say. “I shouldn’t even be here right now my deployment date getting slipped and then with the wind I would’ve never thought that would happen today. Thanks for letting me tag along”
Still taking in what just happened, he responds with a joyful demeanor, “Who knows, maybe it was ALL just a blessing in disguise!”