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David Sikes David Sikes, Caller-Times outdoors writer specializes in hunting and fishing. David's columns are published Thursdays and Sundays. David also compiles a fishing report on Saturdays. He can be reached at sikesd@caller.com. Sunday, May 27, 2001 Humbled on SabineQuest for saltwater bass was half-empty proposition
I'm not necessarily talking about a desire for more of the same. Mine is a yen for variety, an itch that many of you probably feel the need to scratch from time to time, despite living near one of the finest fisheries anywhere. I look not only for diversity of species and tackle, but of locality. Recently, that's what drew me back to Sabine Lake, a locale with an obvious geographic and cultural contrast to the Coastal Bend. It's always an interesting trip. But I thought I'd make this outing more so by setting a specific goal. I've always wanted to catch a saltwater fish and a freshwater species without trailering the boat. Part of my decision to visit the Beaumont area was driven by high winds here. Someone had promised me calm conditions at Texas' eastern border, where dozens of bayous and wetlands that feed Sabine Lake, combined with the bay's salty shorelines, provide the right mix of habitat for catching trout, flounder and bass of the marsh or striped variety. Sabine's top guide Orange (the town, not the color) fishing guide Chuck Uzzle seemed certain that he could turn the hat trick for me. I appreciate a guide with confidence. But generally I shun ones who cross the line into cocky. That's not Uzzle. Humility and humor best describe this angling ambassador, one of a handful of Sabine guides who promote the lake as a big trout destination. I believe he's also one of the few Sabine anglers who owns a wading belt, and certainly the only one with a poling platform on his boat. These characteristics pretty much single him out as the premier shallow-water and fly-fishing guide for the area. But these disciplines didn't really figure into my decision to fish with him this trip. I just wanted to see a flatfish and a trout on a stringer alongside a fish with a lateral line. And I might as well try to accomplish this with someone whose company I enjoy. Slow start Recent rains had left the lake (which is really a bay) flush with sweet water and a dingy color. But still, the Louisiana shoreline of Sabine beckoned us. Its protected surface, we believed, would produce at least one of the saltwater species needed for a mixed stringer. During two mornings of wading this forsaken shoreline, I got one blowup and never saw whatever produced the half-hearted slap at my black Top Dog. Usually I don't change colors as frequently as I did this trip. Nothing worked. My optimism was shattered and my feet were tired, ridding my mind of the fact that this shoreline had produced numerous sizable trout prior to my arrival, or so I was told.
But Uzzle had a plan B. Cutting into the Louisiana side of Sabine Lake are what locals call drains. These narrow cuts into the soggy shore serve as aqueducts during tide changes, supplying water to and draining water from the surrounding marshes, thus the name. Riding the tide, baitfish are sucked into the shallow marsh lakes and spit back out at predictable intervals. Anglers know this, and so do flounder. Unfortunately, the tides did not fit our schedule. We were trout fishing when we should have been flounder catching. That was my fault. My desire to toss Top Dogs can get in the way at times. But again, Uzzle had a plan. The go-to lake Nearly all bodies of water have at least one go-to spot for hard times, waters that will put a bend in your rod when all else fails. For us, the Land Cut might fit that designation at times. Sabine is no exception. Near its mouth is a huge reef. I'm talking 10 to 15 acres of shell far beneath the surface, 12 to 20 feet deep. The theory is that this structure is the first stop for baitfish and trout coming through the jetties from the Gulf in spring and early summer. Just as aspects of the culture differ on opposite sides of Sabine Lake, the practice of fishing this reef is unlike what we do here in the Coastal Bend. Instead of casting ahead of a drifting boat, Sabine anglers drag a lure or bait behind their boat, like drift-trolling. "Dredging the reef, we call it," Uzzle said, trying to hide his embarrassment. "It ain't pretty, but it can be effective. And because the shell is much deeper than most Coastal Bend reefs, local custom allows anglers to use their big motors to cut across the reef when cruising back to the top of a drift, traveling closer to other boats than is the practice here. And nobody seems to mind, including the fish. The system seems to work smoothly, though the occasional anchored boat can disrupt the traffic flow if a drifter isn't paying attention. A new plan Dredging the reef is a social event. It's not uncommon for anglers to shout advice and questions to each other as they drift past. Several nice-sized trout were pulled out of the crowded reef while Uzzle and I drifted it repeatedly. A few made it into our boat. Most were caught on purple and yellow soft plastics, the colors of Louisiana State University, coincidentally. As we broke for lunch at a seaside park, I figured we were halfway to our goal. Uzzle surely had a bass plan for the afternoon. Spring and summer offer some of the best opportunities to catch trout and bass within a few hundred yards of each other at Sabine. So I was confident, but not overly so. However, Uzzle, uncharacteristically crossed the line into cocky during lunch. My formerly humble partner uttered four fateful words. "It's a slam dunk," I overheard him tell someone about the relative probability of boating a bass that afternoon. I could almost hear the fishing gods snicker. I spent the last two hours of the day listening to Uzzle curse his crippled trolling motor - which had worked fine earlier - and apologize for bouncing his fancy Hewes flats boat off the cypress-lined banks of several crooked bayous. This I enjoyed thoroughly, even though our plight prevented the trout we'd caught earlier from meeting a freshwater companion on a stringer. Maybe it's not best to establish rigid goals for outdoor pursuits. Best to take it as it comes. Of course, Uzzle is already talking about a plan for next time. And of course, I'll follow.
prior to my arrival, or so I was told. But Uzzle had a plan B. Cutting into the Louisiana side of Sabine Lake are what locals call drains. These narrow cuts into the soggy shore serve as aqueducts during tide changes, supplying water to and draining water from the surrounding marshes, thus the name. Riding the tide, baitfish are sucked into the shallow marsh lakes and spit back out at predictable intervals. Anglers know this, and so do flounder. Unfortunately, the tides did not fit our schedule. We were trout fishing when we should have been flounder catching. That was my fault. My desire to toss Top Dogs can get in the way at times. But again, Uzzle had a plan. The go-to lake Nearly all bodies of water have at least one go-to spot for hard times, waters that will put a bend in your rod when all else fails. For us, the Land Cut might fit that designation at times. Sabine is no exception. Near its mouth is a huge reef. I'm talking 10 to 15 acres of shell far beneath the surface, 12 to 20 feet deep. The theory is that this structure is the first stop for baitfish and trout coming through the jetties from the Gulf in spring and early summer. Just as aspects of the culture differ on opposite sides of Sabine Lake, the practice of fishing this reef is unlike what we do here in the Coastal Bend. Instead of casting ahead of a drifting boat, Sabine anglers drag a lure or bait behind their boat, like drift-trolling. "Dredging the reef, we call it," Uzzle said, trying to hide his embarrassment. "It ain't pretty, but it can be effective. And because the shell is much deeper than most Coastal Bend reefs, local custom allows anglers to use their big motors to cut across the reef when cruising back to the top of a drift, traveling closer to other boats than is the practice here. And nobody seems to mind, including the fish. The system seems to work smoothly, though the occasional anchored boat can disrupt the traffic flow if a drifter isn't paying attention. A new plan Dredging the reef is a social event. It's not uncommon for anglers to shout advice and questions to each other as they drift past. Several nice-sized trout were pulled out of the crowded reef while Uzzle and I drifted it repeatedly. A few made it into our boat. Most were caught on purple and yellow soft plastics, the colors of Louisiana State University, coincidentally. As we broke for lunch at a seaside park, I figured we were halfway to our goal. Uzzle surely had a bass plan for the afternoon. Spring and summer offer some of the best opportunities to catch trout and bass within a few hundred yards of each other at Sabine. So I was confident, but not overly so. However, Uzzle, uncharacteristically crossed the line into cocky during lunch. My formerly humble partner uttered four fateful words. "It's a slam dunk," I overheard him tell someone about the relative probability of boating a bass that afternoon. I could almost hear the fishing gods snicker. I spent the last two hours of the day listening to Uzzle curse his crippled trolling motor - which had worked fine earlier - and apologize for bouncing his fancy Hewes flats boat off the cypress-lined banks of several crooked bayous. This I enjoyed thoroughly, even though our plight prevented the trout we'd caught earlier from meeting a freshwater companion on a stringer. Maybe it's not best to establish rigid goals for outdoor pursuits. Best to take it as it comes. Of course, Uzzle is already talking about a plan for next time. And of course, I'll follow.
Outdoors writer David Sikes' column appears Thursdays and Sundays. He can be reached at 886-3616 or by e-mail at sikesd@caller.com © 2000 Corpus Christi Caller Times, a Scripps Howard newspaper. All rights reserved. |
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