thuper therious FLYFISHING!

[Underoos]

Figured this place could use a TR, even if it is recycled.






Out of the blue, my wife said, "Let's go to Louisiana. I'll hang out with my family for a week and you can go fish with your friends for as long as you want then fly home before us."

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah, but you have to cut your hair."

I sent a text to Redchaser and 30 minutes later this thing was basically planned.





I planned a day and a half to fish for some greenbass up north at the camp, but it didn't work out so well. The water was muddy and cold. The wind blew hard. Worse, the lake has been on a downhill slide for a few years. They've brought in some new consultants who recommended what I told them to do 10 years ago, kill more fish and put in some grass carp.

2 hrs was all I gave it. Caught nothing. Went to a plastic lizard and caught nothing. That's a bad sign. I went in and took a nap, then made a lap with the boy later on.



Next day, I stretched a 3 hr drive into 7 hrs.
Took some legit backroads and saw some good country.



Stopped at some fine establishments on the advice of some internet weirdos. Excellent stuff, all around.





Grabbed a pie for Red's ma.





Met up with Ron and headed toward salt water.
At our digs, he gave me some earplugs and we crashed.

On the water at first light, optimistic as fuck.



The forecast looked pretty damn good and the tide was doable.

The light was still low at the first spot, but it wasn't long before we put a nice redfish in the boat.
In case you haven't heard, Ron is pretty much the best marsh guide on the planet. No shit.
It was a pleasure to be on the front of his boat, once again.

After we got the skunk off, I poked a little blekkie. My 3rd one, ever.
I was to meet a few more on this trip.



Things were going well. The weather was perfect, good light and no wind.
We were seeing fish and they were happy.
We put a few more over the gunwales.



Still before noon, I checked another one off the list and got my first sheepshead.
It was quite amusing.





I now have a great appreciation for these little fuckers. Yeah, they're little bastards, but they're hilarious.
They're like little high-strung birds that you can scare to death just by looking at them.
I like to fuck with them, either casting at them or poking them with the rod tip, like I do to the phtingrays.

At the end of one bank, Ron goes "We'd be stupid not to run to the outside with conditions like this."

It was the middle of the day, we were in a huge bay, and it looked like this.



We basked in our good fortune and rolled with it.

Nothin' doin' on the outside, so we went to another spot.
Things had been slow for a little while, then both at the same time we saw a big dark fish sliding away from the bank.
I made a bad cast. Re-cast, leading the fish a little, and threw a couple feet long too the fish's right. I pulled they fly back in line and he ate it.
We hadn't hooked a bull all day and we were happy to have one on the line.



"I don't think he's 20," I said.
And then I learned something very interesting.
Ron said, "Oh yeah he is. He'll get bigger as he gets closer. They all do that."
"Huh? Trout do the opposite."

He was right.
As I did war with the behemoth, it pulled harder and grew in size.

32#, 45". Just in case you were wondering.







I felt really good after that. Like, high.
Like melting into the couch, but I melted into the bow.



And there ya go. A hell of a memory made.

But there was still lots of daylight.
We got another big one a little while later.



It pleaded for mercy as I vanquished it.









Later, I was playing with a black drum and Red was able to nab a redfish from the platform. That made me happy, because he poles me around all day.



I'm not sure how that day could have been any better. I didn't even get too drunk or sunburned.
We fell asleep at 8:30 that night.

Next day, we sniffed some DSFK for good luck.



Asked the locals if we could fish their spot.



We launched a little late. The wind was blowing.
We saw fish, but they were being bitches.

Ah well. No bother.
We were still feeling pretty good from the day before.



We poked around, marveling at the clear water.
A couple fish made their way into the cooler.
Ron took photos while I harassed the wildlife.
I learned another lesson: pelicans smell horrible.



At the end of the day, Ron pulled up into a nice big protected cut with a shallow flat and a deeper trough.
It was alive.
There were a few big reds, but there were blacks and sheepies all over the place.
Target-rich.

We boated a fish or two, then I was able to check another item off of my list.
It's my understanding that catching and handling a big cankerous slob black drum is a right of passage in the marsh.
I saw my first slob at the very end of the cut, his back halfway out of the water.
Cast, eat.
I was thankful that it was low on the putrescence scale, but it did have some leeches and other shit on it.




So, damn.
Hell of a trip.

Hell of a trip.



Next time I'll get two pies.

[skifishbum]

So, damn.
Hell of a trip.

Hell of a trip.

fishstrong

[KenJongIll]

Damn those are some monster Bulls. Excellent TR.

[stapes]

Craving some fried chicken now.

Nicely done.

[2FUNKY]

Well that looked thwell! That Drum is thtewpid big!

[dfinn]

boss hog!

[Woolly the Mammoth]

Sick!!!

[teleee]

29 days and counting until I hit the salt water. Man, you are making that seem like forever. Nicely done.

[schwerty]

Good work!

[spankthepow]

Damn!!!!

[2nd mate]

Those are some HOGS! Thanks for the TR.

[DeathVan]

Thweetneth!

[Tap]

worth the cut. badass

[L8APX]

Word

[Jong Lafitte]

C'mon? Luv that LA stoke y'all.

[happytimefunbox]

Fuken SWAMPDONKIES!!! Goddammit man!