Some locations have an early-morning flash of mind. For me, the Lower Laguna Madre was one of those sites.
I had numerous rumors about the shallow-water fishing industry that existed along the Texas coastline near South Padre Island over the years. I’ve heard fly anglers talk about sight-casting opportunities that sounded more like something from Florida than Texas after hearing pictures of copper-colored redfish gliding across clear grass flats. Having fished almost every stretch of the Texas coastline and spent time fly fishing the famous cottages of Florida, I was curious to see how the Lower Laguna compared.
And I was blown away when I went that early in my profession. Even though it takes roughly eight hours to get here from Southeast Texas, I make my best effort whenever I get the chance to return.
Recently, I had the chance to get out when my friend Gray Thornton invited me to spend three days on the water with Captain Eric Glass.
The schedule couldn’t have been better.
Both Gray and I had spent the previous quarter buried in demanding tasks. We needed a break from work, schedule, and the continuous demands of the outdoors, just like many outdoorsmen. We needed a few days where the biggest decision was whether the fish would be on a beach, a turf advantage or a deep level.
It became clear why anglers from all over the country journey to fish this extraordinary ecosystem as soon as we launched. The grass meadows swathed beneath the water, and the ocean glowed in shades of green and blue. Everyday you looked seemed capable of holding bass.
Not just the wildlife, which was what really impressed me. The large volume of living was it.
Mullet pushed wake across the cottages. Rays glinted beneath the ship. Shorebirds worked the grass’s ends. Outside there seemed to be activity, and with that motion came chance.
The fishing got going fast.
Smaller schools of hardheaded catfish were one of the first truly unforgettable things we encountered. Around those fish were feeding redfish and mottled salmon. It was a amazing exchange that most people might not have expected to encounter. We had the opportunity to create presentations with the fly rod as the animals moved through and around the fish institutions.
In many ways, it reminded me of the Florida cottages. The emphasis on spotting fish before casting a cast, wide seagrass meadows, and clear water all contributed to a completely different experience from what most anglers anticipate from the Texas coast. But it managed to maintain its own identity, one that was shaped by South Texas ‘ unique landscape and ecology.
How frequently we saw carp was the first thing that struck me.
Redfish persisted throughout the journey. Striped fish showed themselves in areas where some anglers does not expect to find them. Black drums appeared over the turf like enormous darkness. Every day, there were numerous fish it.
What made things fascinating was that many of those fish were far from simple.
Some time had mild weather, while others had stronger winds. One time in special put our casting skills to the test more than the others, but the weather not diminished the learning. In fact, the changing circumstances just added another layer to the problem.
Numerous of the redfish were incredibly creepy. They acted like fish that had seen a lot of fishing and lived in clear, deep water. A throw that landed to difficult or a travel that moved strangely could finish the opportunity in a heartbeat.
That’s what made each successful assessment but rewarding.
One of the most done fly fishing I’ve had the honor of hunting behind is Gray Thornton. Watching him function through difficult situations was remarkable. He made the most of possibilities that might have overwhelmed less experienced anglers and regularly delivered appropriate casts.
I have fished for about ten declares, and I’ve spent the majority of my life researching fish, animals, and their habitats. I consider myself a good man, but I am also reasonable enough to understand where my strengths and weaknesses lie. I don’t invest almost as much time sight-fishing from a boat as some devoted saltwater fly fishing.
That was brought up by The Laguna.
I missed a few pictures I’d like to have again. There were times when I rushed throws or incorrectly calculated distance. However, fly fishing involves a certain degree of sensitivity, especially when you’re targeting fish that are clearly visible.
Thankfully, I connected as well.
On travel address, I caught redfish and speckled trout throughout the trip. Watching a redfish emerge from a seaweed level, observe a fly and then suddenly undertake is one of the most thrilling experiences in fishing. It never gets older.
The fact that it mirrored a previous visit to the Lower Laguna Madre made the practice even more important. The next time I visited the area was also with Gray Thornton and Captain Eric Glass. Looking up, on that journey, I caught about the same amount of fish as I did on this one.
The commonality reinforced things that I’ve learned to value more as I get older.
The best fishing trips aren’t usually measured by numbers.
What stood out from both journeys wasn’t a lot of capture. It was the level of the learning. The opportunity to sight-fish for redfish and trout in one of the most exclusive communities on the Texas coast. the chance to interact with great people outside. I continue to be fascinated by the opportunity to see wildlife and discover something new about a fishery.
One of the things I enjoy most about fishing with great tutorials is that they teach you how to see things you might otherwise lose.
That was precisely what Captain Eric Glass did.
We traveled across the flats and saw a lot of cownose beams and southern stingrays throughout the journey. Most fish notice the waves and walk on. Captain Glass described how redfish frequently exploit them. Rays stir up fish, crabs, and other feed as they move across the bottom. Redfish will usually follow behind them, feeding on whatever becomes exposed.
We began paying much more interest when he explained it.
Every star instantly turned into something more than just another creature moving across the flat. It became a possible explanation. We occasionally found ourselves monitoring beams with the same attention as we did redfish in the water.
The Lower Laguna Madre seemed filled with these kinds of connections.
Every types had some sort of connection to another. The more time we spent on the water, the stronger those bonds became.
One of the most memorable moments of the journey had nothing to do with fish.
A wolf was spotted on a small area during a time of lower water. It initially appeared to be hunting. Considering the diversity of animals concentrated in the area, it wasn’t difficult to imagine the monster searching for an easy dinner.
The creature finally realized we were close by.
When it did, it began to run.
To our delight, the fox splashed off the area and began crossing the deep flats. As we watched from the ship, it gradually made its way through the waters toward another island.
It was one of those instances that reaffirms the importance of more than just tuna in outdoor pursuits.
In a matter of hours, we had gone from watching redfish and dark roller to observing a wild fox navigating a marine environment. It’s not something I anticipated seeing, and it’s undoubtedly certainly something I’ll miss.
The encounters with animals lasted the duration of the trip. Large black drum cruised deep water. Rays gently moved beneath the ground. The shores and vegetation beds were worked by birds. Everyday we looked there seemed to be another warning of how wealthy this ecosystem really is.
I couldn’t help but think about the importance of protecting areas like the Lower Laguna Madre as someone who has spent much of his profession advocating for wildlife conservation.
One of Texas’s most important habitats is the grass meadows, which contribute to this fishery’s high productivity. They provide daycare areas for bass, house for many aquatic species and support an entire meal web that extends far beyond the waters itself.
Good fisheries are a result of healthy seagrass.
Good fish promote family-friendly activities, regional markets, and traditional customs.
When you’re standing on a boat watching redfish journey over green grass flats, restoration isn’t an abstract idea. It is beneath your foot in a hurry.
I gained a new appreciation for what makes this region so unique and why it deserves extended management as a result of the encounter.
As our last day on the water came to a close, I found myself reflecting on how lucky I have been throughout my life. I had dreams of these kinds of things as a teenager. I had the idea of going fishing in remote areas, getting advice from talented outdoorsmen, and wasting time in the wild places that piqued my interest.
And there was more.
One of the best fly fishing I know was able to promote a boat with me. A manual with a thorough understanding of the habitat taught me something. I caught redfish and speckled trout on travel address. I watched a jackal cross a thin smooth and discovered an even greater appreciation for one of Texas’s most outstanding fisheries.
Most importantly, I had the opportunity to escape the sound of daily life and spend time there, where the natural rhythms also predominate.
For that, I am glad.
thankful for acquaintances like Gray Thornton.
Thankful for guidelines like Captain Eric Glass.
Grateful for good fish and exotic places.
And thankful to the Lord for encounters that were once only possible in a fresh outdoorsman’s goals because they couldn’t get enough of the activities they gave them.
Redfish, trout, and dark drum were all remarkable, but years later, as a friend, I’ll likely recall the most the feeling of staring down those never-ending emerald flats, knowing that at any moment another fish or surprise may appear.
That’s the secret of the Lower Laguna Madre, and it’s why I suspect I’ll stay returning whenever the opportunity arises.
Reach out to Capt. Eric Glass is present.
Chester Moore
