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Early fall is great time to test wadefishing waters
By JOE DOGGETT
A green tide on the open beach is one of the things that makes fishing in
Texas special.
The bounty never can be taken for granted, but when the surf is right, few
angling experiences are so rewarding. This is my strong opinion based on more
than 40 years of far-flung casts. Some of the finest moments are right here.
I started plugging the surf during the mid-1960s, and the experience of
wading into a light-tackle strike amid the restless currents remains vital.
Something magical occurs when a surf-runner smacks a lure at the end of a
long cast across the shimmering Gulf.
The fishing is larger than life out there. The outside sandbar remains a
frontier. And in a real sense, the waist-deep bar that parallels the beach is
as far as a wade fisherman can go.
You can keep kicking and stroking, perhaps hoping to prove the world is
round, but I've tried it several times and don't recommend it.
The waist-deep bar puts you where you need to be, especially when a green
tide is pushing strong and full onto the beach and the lifting swells are
filled with scattering baitfish.
Best of all, this extraordinary experience is within reach of any able-bodied
angler. No expensive boat or exotic destination is necessary. You do,
however, need privileged directions to the "secret spot."
You're lucky I'm here and willing to help. See that big blue thing on the
nearest map? Well, that's the Gulf of Mexico. Point your car south and drive
to the beach and wade out and start chunking.
It's pretty much that simple — assuming the surf has fishable clarity
(visibility of at least a foot or so) and the tide is moving (preferably
incoming).
Fan of Follets Island
Certainly, some stretches offer more potential than others, but schools of
baitfish and finfish move laterally along the open beach, and this pattern is
the great equalizer.
Beach access, sadly, is becoming increasingly restricted against progress,
but the determined wader willing to study the available options along a given
stretch should have no difficulty reaching the water. If I had to pick an
area within 1 1/2 hours of the 610 Loop, I'd aim for Follets Island,
otherwise known as the Freeport side of San Luis Pass.
You can reach the beach via numerous short access roads, and you can drive
unhassled for miles above the high-tide line. Four-wheel drive, although
useful, isn't critical for the driver who pays attention and avoids the
obvious "sand traps."
Other uncrowned upper-coastal beaches are Quintana/Bryan, south of Freeport,
and High Island, east of Galveston.
All offer the quality of windswept remoteness that adds greatly to the
experience. And regardless of venue, now is an excellent time to wade the
Texas surf. The currents are gradually cooling into fall, but as long as the
inshore readings are hovering either side of 80 degrees, the "green light"
remains on for wet wading.
Lots of pluses
Early fall offers several advantages over the traditional summer season for
surf fishing: First, green water often is within reach of the third bar.
Summer is plagued with low tides and south/southwest winds, either of which
can be a trip-killer. Fall's seasonal shift to east/southeast (especially
behind light northers) encourages "green to the beach" conditions. And don't
let a bit of whitewater put you off; most salty, soggy veterans prefer
breaking surf over a "flat calm" beach (assuming the clarity amid the
turbulence is acceptable).
Predictable wave action defines the sandbars and dropoffs, and the rolling
foam provides oxygen and cover for shallow predators. Second, a variety of
fish is available for the light-tackle plugger.
Schools seem to stage in the surf, perhaps savoring the final warm currents
of the year. Speckled trout are the mainstay, but redfish, Spanish mackerel,
ladyfish and jackfish slash through the feathering breakers. B-teamers such
as croaker, sand trout, gafftop catfish, and small drum are a possibility.
You might hook something big — a tarpon, a shark, maybe a late-season king
mackerel.
Over the years, I've bent the rod on every one of these species in the
Freeport surf. Finally, the windows of opportunity are expanded. Productive
surf wading during the heat of summer usually is restricted to the first two
hours of daylight.
The celebrated "dawn patrol" sets the pace and fills the stringer, but to
muster from Houston at gray light demands a ruinous alarm clock. It's
probably bad for your health. At least, this is my conclusion. Early fall
opens the door for laggards.
Tide, clarity important
The combination of strong autumnal tides and cooler water temperatures puts
the potential of feeding fish within reach at any hour of the day.
The keys, to reiterate, are fishable clarity and incoming tide. When these
two combine, that's when you need to be firing your best shots in the surf.
And I don't care if it's 1 p.m. Another advantage of a late-morning or
early-afternoon session is that the high sun reduces the "Brrrr!" factor. As
inshore readings drop, the dawn patrol gets a little sketchy for the wader
being repeatedly soused by breaking waves. On that note, an overlooked
advantage to a snug life vest is the insulating buffer it provides against
wind and spray.
Here's a seasonal endorsement for the afternoon session: Earlier this month,
Vernon McGaw checked the tides and made a run to the Freeport surf. We fished
from approximately 4-6 p.m.
Comfort zone
The water was 83 degrees, still summer-warm but losing some steam. And in our
favor, the afternoon was overcast with several squalls bouncing through the
area. The cooler air was a bonus. We waded right out and nuked them on live
shrimp and spoons. Well, to be specific, we nuked the skipjacks. They were
fun, up to about 3 pounds, but not really what you want.
Once the marauding ladyfish moved on, we began hooking a variety of species.
McGaw caught a redfish, and I caught a Spanish mackerel. He caught a big
whiting, and I caught a small pompano.
Then we caught several more mackerel and small jackfish. Finally, I drew a
sharp strike on a silver Dixie Jet spoon and felt the familiar head shake of
a speckled trout. A solid 2-pounder boiled up in a clean jump — they always
seem larger out on the waist-deep bar. I slipped the landing net under it as
McGaw hooked another.
We caught several more trout before the tide stopped moving and the fish
stopped biting. The quick grab-bag session was immensely satisfying. We
loaded the several "keepers" in the ice chest and were back inside the Loop
by 8 p.m.
But what I remember most, as the restless water was turning gold and gray,
was the mysto-strike. I whipped a long cast with the silver Jet across the
open Gulf and allowed the spoon to settle several counts before starting a
stuttered retrieve. The rod lunged as a sparkling wave lifted, and I whooped
with joy.
Two bursts of line tore from the Chronarch reel, and then the fish was gone.
The treble hook had pulled. But for fleeting moments, the wild energy was
there.
And that is what keeps drawing me to the green tides on the beach. And it is
still out there, free and unfettered, swelling with power, indifferent to
clutter and confusion. Get it while you can. |
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