Sunday, November 11, 2001

A reeling reputation

David Sikes/Caller-Times

Spanish mackerel make good table fare when cooked fresh. They don’t freeze well.

PORT ARANSAS - How many oversized redfish does it take to put a smile on a teen-ager's face?
   This crossed my mind as I boarded Totsy Belcher's Blue Wave recently with Brandon Frank, a W.B. Ray High School senior, better known for his music and academic aptitude than his prowess with rod and tackle.
   The answer came quickly and definitively, barely 30 seconds after Belcher cast to a spot near the North Jetty and handed Brandon the rod. It didn't begin as a grin, though. It appeared as astonishment at first bite, eased into mild panic as the tension mounted and eventually evolved as the fight escalated into a full-blown beam, one that I'm convinced video games could not produce.
   For the next 10 minutes, the upturn on Brandon's face was mirrored by the downward bend in his fishing rod, with only occasional breaks in this expression when Belcher barked instructions, which tend to sound more like castigation than encouragement to the unsuspecting angler.

David Sikes/Caller-Times

Kenneth McGary (left), longtime friend of Totsy Belcher, caught and released this oversized redfish near the North Jetty.

   For Brandon, relief from Belcher's ragging came in two forms, landing the 42-inch fish that was on his line and seeing the veteran guide's trademark tirade directed my way. Serves me right for raising a backlash on Belcher's boat.
   Belcher dispenses his rantings equally and with a dash of old-salt crustiness. To be fair, though, goodwill is in there too, though seemingly buried deep.
   I figure he's just trying to fill the world (or at least his boat) with better anglers, one student at a time. By the reaction to his harsh tone, this must be a tireless task for berater and beratee.
   Joking aside, the world could not have a better teacher than this dean of coastal fishing guides. If Belcher's approval was met - and it's difficult to tell when it is - his nod would look good on any resume.
   Belcher, 65, started out as a private boat captain at age 15 in Port Aransas, steering the offshore vessels of wealthy marlin anglers. From there, he worked as a machinist for E.L. Caldwell, operating Caldwell's fishing boat on weekends. He gave up this day job 10 years later and began tournament fishing for billfish, traveling the world on various big boats.

David Sikes/Caller-Times

With one cast from the bow, Totsy Belcher hooked and landed his lunch.

   This lasted off and on for 25 years, intermittent with stints as a commercial fisherman for flounder, trout and redfish, back when netting the latter two was legal. Then about 10 years ago, Belcher settled down in his hometown and began his fourth career as a bay-fishing guide.
   "I had caught 137 blue marlin when I stopped," Belcher said. "And I loved it. But I just got tired of the traveling. I wanted to be home with my kids."
   When Belcher began his bay-fishing career, he was one of about seven or eight guides who worked out of Port Aransas. Dozens have come and gone since.
   Most can't compare with Belcher.
   He plays a different game.

David Sikes/Caller-Times

Even for those who know where to look, such as Totsy Belcher, the tripletail is a rare catch.

   His is mostly about numbers and variety, and few anglers can match Belcher's knack for efficiency.
   It was this reputation that had me trying for years to book a spot on his boat, wanting this colorful Port Aransas native to reveal a bit of his famous magic.
   He finally said yes recently, just as the redfish run at the jetties had converged with the pompano/Spanish mackerel rendezvous at the near rigs off San Jose Island. Our plan was to catch monster reds until our arms tired then make the short run into the gulf for a box full of eating fish.
   Along to boost our bag was Belcher's boyhood friend, Kenneth McGary of Estes, who seems immune to Belcher's scolding. McGary hadn't fished with his old school chum in 50 years. Maybe it takes that long to forget.

David Sikes/Caller-Times

Brandon Frank, 17, caught the biggest jack crevalle (shown here) the biggest redfish, a 42-incher, and the largest pompano during his first fishing trip in years.

   Belcher sees nothing special about catching redfish near or between the jetties in fall and winter. A moving tide, even the slightest flow, usually means spawning redfish will stage near the ocean bottom where baitfishes are easily ambushed.
   But for some unexplained reason, not just any baitfish will do at times. Leave it to Belcher to figure out which bait reds crave on a given day.
   Lately, they've had a taste for menhaden.
   Again, leave it Belcher to locate and net this elusive baitfish, when few others are able. For us, he had frozen a morning's supply of menhaden, eliminating the need for a search.
   Within minutes of anchoring, three rods were bent and three anglers were stumbling around the boat, hoping to avoid tangled lines and Belcher's wrath. Neither was accomplished.
   At some point, Belcher suggested we leave this coveted spot to the anglers who had gathered in boats to watch. On our way into the gulf, Belcher tossed a bag of menhaden to a colleague and wished him luck.

David Sikes/Caller-Times

McGary caught and released this bait-stealing spadefish, AKA angelfish.

   Live shrimp is the bait of choice for our next quarry.
   Brandon's beginner's luck continued with another muscle-testing fight. This time it was a jackfish, a nasty-tasting, bail-emptying fish that's fun but time-consuming to catch on light tackle.
   When Belcher senses one on his line, he quickly breaks it off.
   "Damn jackfish," he says each time.
   But mostly, our time was spent reeling in Spanish mackerel and pompano, then throwing them in the ice chest. Despite the fast pace, Belcher groused about it, saying it was better the week before.
   When we had enough fun and fillets, we headed back.
   The short boat ride to Woody's was a little choppy, but sunny and pleasant until the boat lurched to a halt.
   "What's wrong Totsy? What do you see?" I asked, praying that engine trouble wouldn't be his response.
   "Lunch," was all he said, as he sprang from behind the wheel, grabbed a rod and flung open the livewell.
   All I could see was a floating jug about 30 yards away.
   "I almost missed it," Belcher continued. "There's a tripletail under that jug."
   For those who don't know, the tripletail is among the ocean's sweetest offerings when it comes to table fare.
   Belcher bounced to the bow deck with legs that defy his age and in one smooth motion cast toward a fish I could not see.
   "Got her," he grunted while setting the hook and flashing a boyish grin my way.
   Now we know how many tripletails it takes to put a smile on Totsy's face.
  
  
  
  

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