An Angler Opines
by Rock Dawson
(originally published in the July 2017 issue of Tail Fly FIshing Magazine)
Why do we fly fish?
I’m often asked about my most memorable fishing trip and although I don’t often site it, one pops into my mind every single time and not because of the fish caught (truth be told I don’t think we fished more than a couple of hours the entire weekend) but because of the debacle we had to undo at what seemed like every turn.
A buddy of mine, Rob, and I had decided to take a weekend trip to North Padre Island National Sea Shore. For those who aren’t familiar with the area, North Padre Island is the northern portion of the barrier islands that protect the South Texas coast from Corpus Christi in the North to Port Isabell in the South and create the bay system known as the Laguna Madre. The national sea shore runs from about Corpus down south roughly 50 miles until the island is split into North and South by the Mansfield cut. Our plan was to head down the island about 45 miles on the more manageable beach side and then cut between the dunes and get back over to the Laguna Madre side so we could sitecast to reds.. The trip started off normally enough leaving out of Houston on a Friday afternoon and getting down the beach in time to get a few hours of shut eye before we hit the water. We awoke before dawn and made a pre-dawn uneventful trek to the Laguna from the beach. We parked, hopped out of the circa 1988 4runner, rigged up and hit the water to an ocean of tailing drum. For the next couple of hours we waded the flat right in front of the vehicle and then decided to take a break and have a bite to eat and a sip of something fluid.
We got over to the car and decided to listen to some tunes while we ate so I went to start the car… click..click..click… Dead battery! No time to loose, we had to grab the battery and walk towards civilization. After hiking across the island and back to the beach, we amazingly found a guy with a spare battery. We thanked him, left our battery as collateral and took his back to our car.
Once we got the battery into the car and everything “seemed” ok it was around 2pm so we made the call to go back to the beach side. We had a battery that needed returning and we figured it to be a quick trip. We returned the battery to its’ rightful owner around 9pm Saturday evening.
Tired from running across the Sahara desert on four 2×4’s, digging and jacking all afternoon we opted to cook some dinner and rest up for the morning.
We were up early and full of energy once again. The day held promise, just like every day does when you first get up, and we would be ready for it. We hopped in the trusty 4 runner and fire her up, she purrs like a kitten, I throw her into first and we ease off down the beach… 75 yards down the beach. At about the 75 yard mark the clutch went out and my power transfer was gone. Translation – the 4Runner wasn’t going another inch under its’ own power.
I hitchhiked the 40 plus miles back to the ranger station, called a tow truck in Corpus, got towed off the beach, striped all the line off of a surf fisherman’s reel, rented a car, went to Corpus for dinner and was home by midnight Sunday night…Dead Ass Broke.
As I put my head down on the pillow that night and many nights hence I realized this is why I fish! For every problem to be solved, for every “bad” trip taken, for every wind knot, bad cast, stuck truck, went swimming, 35-40 knot day, this is why I fish. Those memories are burned into my mind. They have been an endless source of humor and fire side ribbing sessions. They have gotten many times more mileage than any fish story and they are the times when we learn the most. So for this writer it’s about the experience, the continual lessons learned and a love for this amazing creation.
SUBSCRIBE TO READ MORE