It’s overcast, and the fibrous limbs of the crepe myrtles in
front of my childhood home on 977 Athania Pkwy are stretching like rubberbands
due to their top heavy canopy. It also doesn’t help that the Greater New Orleans
area has just been hit by an unusually late spring front which is accompanied
by 20 knot north winds. But like most young adults, fostered by a
brazen/bulletproof attitude, I utter the following, “Hey Pops, you want to go
wade the surf tomorrow?”
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| 441 Martin Lane |
“I’m not so sure Son,” he replies in a “are you crazy”
undertone. “I think the wind will have the water too low and dirty, and what
little incoming tide we have, I don’t think will come in because of the stiff
north wind.”
“But that’s the thing Pops, the winds out the north and
although it’s pretty strong, it’ll be laying down by tomorrow afternoon, which
means if we have clean water, the only place it will be is on the beach,” I
said confidently.
“Man, I don’t know buddy. I know you want to fish since you
just finished finals, but this might be a little much.”
“C’mon Pops, its Thursday in early May. Think about it, the
full moon is Saturday and we’ll have the whole place to ourselves, since most
everyone else will be in school or at work.” “You know as well as I do that it’s
that time of year, when those wall hangers start roaming the beach.”
Like my pop often does when he wants to go but doesn’t agree
he says, “It’s up to you Son…if you want to go, I’ll go, but just to be with
you.”
As if I just won a pot at the poker table, I say with a calm
exterior, “I’ll hook up the boat…let’s go make some memories…don’t forget the
camera.”
As we departed for 441 Martin Lane in Happy Jack, LA. The
orange groves and Roseau cane that line highway 23 looked like recent
casualties to an infant hurricane season. And as if branches on the ground
weren’t good enough, the smoke stack at the BP Plant in Myrtle Grove ran parallel
to the highway.
When my dad see’s the smoke stack, he says, “Man I don’t
know.” But I quickly downplay its negative indications by saying, “but look
where its pointing…offshore.”
“Alright,” he says begrudgingly, “but if it’s blowing like
this in the morning, you’re going by yourself.”
When we finally reach the camp, we launch the boat and pick
it up in the sling under the camp and put the charger on the trolling motor
batteries. Although it was uneventful, we couldn’t help but don another fleece
and accelerate our actions to get into the warmth of the camp.
That night I was anxious. I remember questioning my sanity
and hoping that I made the right call, and although he’d never admit I think my
dad was just as anxious. I could hear him tossing and turning, which is pretty
unusual. So instead of sleeping till the alarm went off I woke up and started
the coffee pot.
“I don’t know pops, I haven’t looked…sit tight and I’ll let
you know.”
As I opened the side door which faces south, I couldn’t help
but notice the chill followed by a quick gust that wrapped around the corner of
the porch.
“Damn dude, it’s still blowing, but it’s still out the north.
One thing though…its cold!”
“Well,” he pauses, and I’m thinking he’s going to go back
into the room. “Looks like we’ll have to wear waders! Let’s go get ‘em”
Rejuvenated by his response, I pour a quick cup of coffee
and head downstairs to put the boat in the water.
As we idle down the canal, we talk about which route we want
to take and it becomes evident that Grand Bayou to Tony’s canal, then down
Bayou Huertes to the back levee canal is the best and safest way to get to
Chaland Pass. Although it’s a longer route, 40 mins in total, there is very
little open water, except in No Mans Land, but if the water’s low the back
levee canal can be very tumultuous due to shifting sandbars.
As we anticipate, No man’s land is a little choppy but not too
bad, but our good fortune ran out as we had to push off of 3 sandbars on the
back levee canal which made us about an hour late to the spot. However, once we
turn the corner and see the laid out Gulf, we notice something in the distance we
didn’t expect to see…a Hunter Green Back Country Flats Boat, and a single wader
in the barely present breakers on the right side of the pass.
When we saw the boat, it was as if the joyful patience balloon
busted and a flame thrower of disgust ingnited in the boat.
“Are you kidding me,” my dad says, “Who is sicker than us to
come out here on a day like this.”
“I don’t know, but I say we park next to him and work toward
the pass.”
As we’re getting the boat situated, we notice Darren Angelo,
a local marina owner, walking back to his boat.
 |
| The Second Set of Breakers |
“How’d you do?” we ask.
“Redfish,” he says, “I got my five already and I’m going in
to check on the Marina.” “Good luck guys, I thought I was the only crazy person
out here to be fishing in this,” He chuckled.
Excited that fish are present, and a fading outboard
earmarked for Delta Marina in Empire. We start chucking MirrOlure Top Dog’s at
the second set of breakers, and in short order, both baits explode as if cement
just fell from the sky. To prevent our lines from tangling we start doing the
redfish tango, since these bruiser redfish are hitting two at a time, and I
glance to my right and say, “this is going to be a great day Pops.”
He agrees and for the next hour we witness each other’s Top
Dog getting assaulted, until…the artillery from the redfish turns into a more
subtle kinetic…big trout.
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| Chaland Pass |
Our fortune changed when a 20” trout inhaled my plug and
joined my 5 redfish in the fish basket, but it didn’t stop there. My dad and I
spent the next 5 hours in 55 degree weather, walking the dog and wading the
surf, catching trout up to 7lbs. By no means was it every cast, but the
decreasing north winds and the gentle incoming tide turned the water into the
infamous trout green, and the image of my chrome sided, blue back Top Dog
darting side to side, falling behind the white water of a breaker and seeing a
swirl as the wave subsided, never leaves my thoughts. Unfortunately, I hope it
never does, because as my dad went to capture the end result with a picture,
the battery in the camera wasn’t so much up to the task, but that’s ok.
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| #24 - Chrome w/ Blue Back |
It’s been slightly less than 14 years since this trip, and
although little has changed in my angling passion, a lot has changed in my
life. As I reflect on those earlier trips through the lens of wisdom, I’m glad
the camera didn’t work. The memory of standing next to the boat in the surf
with a red fleece on next to my dad admiring the 46 huge trout and 10 reds we
just caught on topwater, is way better than 100 likes or shares on social
media. It’s a trip we bring up every now and again, but its bonding to know
that he’s the only person that cherished it as much as I did. I remember him
laughing when we got on plane after we pushed off our third flat, and he
remembers my voice shaking after I caught my first 7lb trout.
So as we move into a world that seemingly gets faster, I encourage
you to forget about the social media post and savor the moment for what it is, with
the people you love.
For me the negatives, seared into my memory for this album
are simple. A father and a son, two trout fishing fanatics, 3 sandbars, early
May, Chaland Pass, 46 trout and 10 reds lying on the blue carpet floor of the
boat on a day that “never” happened.
Tight Lines and God Bless.
Chris
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| Been Wading the Surf for a long time now |
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