We left a perfectly good hotel room stocked with rum and beer and the balcony view of the pool for this? They even had a never-ending supply of bacon in the breakfast buffet.
|Wind lover's rip cord|
"Are you kidding me?" Todd hollered, as the wind pulled his 8-weight out of his hands and flipped it into the sand next to the car. I smiled. This is South Padre is April, I thought. I've never know it not to be a little gusty.
|The canvas and the artist|
A cloudless blue sky met the taupe sand with alarming, beautiful contrast, and the wind stirred the whole thing into a kind of fend-for-yourself frenzy. As we finished gearing up, we had to scream at each other to be heard over the wind and the crashing of the surf just a few hundred yards away over a series of small dunes.
But we weren't headed for the surf. We were headed to the flats of lower Laguna Madre, a long walk over tall dunes to the west.
"Maybe it'll be calmer on the bay," I yelled, wishfully. Through the tint of polarized sunglasses, I could see Todd's eyes roll.
Right. And maybe I'll get all the sand out of my crack by next Tuesday.
|A constant blow...|
And I don't know if it was the thought of standing and casting in warm, clear water, or just the idea of working out the kinks in the saltwater cast, but, at least for me, the walk over the dunes was pretty damn cool. Windblown sand is both the canvas and the artist, and while the footing was a bit unpredictable, the feet were treading some fascinating earth.
Fishing wasn't great, and I fully attribute that to the wind and the fact that sight-fishing through whitewater is virtually impossible. I managed to blind-cast a yellow-over-red Clouser to a tough little redfish, and Mike hooked one, too, just about the same size. Todd fished, but didn't get lucky.
Mike also hooked some small-ish panfish-looking critter that we opted to identify later. As he said in the car on the way back to the hotel room: "Only I could come all the way to south Texas and catch a bluegill in the salt."
Wind be damned. We came. We fished. We endured, by God.
Now ... back to that rum ... and the view from the balcony.