Planning for NOLA

The saying that your life changes forever when you have children, though trite, is also 120% accurate.  Make that 240% since I have twins.  Gone are the days where on a whim, you can simply head out on a Friday after work for the weekend of “whatever you want to do”.  Planning weeks, if not months, in advance is usually what is involved when you have 20 month old twins.  In a couple years it will get a lot easier.  This will be especially true when they are at the age where they can come with me.  For now, it takes planning.

Since my 6^th anniversary of my marriage coincides nicely with Memorial Day weekend, I thought I’d bend my wife’s ear to the idea of driving down to New Orleans for the weekend.  She had never been to NOLA for more than a couple hours, and we thought it would be fun since it’s only 6 hours from Memphis.  With my parents committing to taking care of the twins, the planning of the trip began.  My buddy, and former guide in the area, was generous enough to give me great intel into the areas where he guided around Port Sulphur, LA.  He is currently stationed in Texas with the Air Force, but he happened to be taking a trip back to his stomping grounds just weeks before my trip.  This would mean he'd be able to give me some more up to date information when I did get down there.  He helped me map out key areas to target redfish on the fly.  With the locations planned out, the next step for fly fisherman who also tie flies, is to hit the bench and knock out about 500% more flies than will ever be necessary for a trip.  But I find it to be a wonderful way to build anticipation.  As I had heard from many local fly fisherman, "If it ain't got purple or chartreuse, it ain't..." well, you get the point.  I mixed in a few more natural looking shrimp patterns, sliders and seaducers in the lot as well.

 

Also whipping up some hand tied 9ft leaders to accompany my flies.  With more than 75 flies for a 2 afternoon fishing trip (it is my anniversary after all, I had to spend some time with my wife) I was now part way ready.  45 days out, I procured a new motor for my Gheenoe.  A 4-stroke 9.8hp Tohatsu would be strapped on to the stern.  This was a big step up from my 1970’s 6hp Evinrude, which was mixed as far as reliability and performance went.  I tested it out on a local lake to see how it ran, and was pleasantly satisfied with it hitting near 20mph (the old 6hp barely made it to 10mph). 

A few other temporary mods to the Gheenoe included a casting deck of sorts in front of the front seat, and a raised platform on the back inspired by Geofish’s Gheenoes in their film.  It wasn't pretty, but I was shooting for function more than form for this trip.  I plan to fiberglass in a permanent front and rear deck with compartments at seat level, remove the middle seat, and put in a flat floor, but that will be a summer project for later.  I replaced my trailer’s bearings, installed new bunks, a transom saver, a trolling motor mount, and slapped on brand new shiny wheels and tires to be sure there wouldn’t be any hiccups getting down there.  I was now basically set to go.  We loaded up the Friday of Memorial Day weekend, and made the 6 hour drive down to the area ravaged by hurricanes in the not so distant past.

My wife committed to coming with me Saturday afternoon provided we wouldn’t be out longer than 4 hours.  My married friends out there know that it’s important to keep the boss happy.  Being that my wife is a 1^st grade teacher, and Saturday was her first official day of summer, she was not too eager to leave the comforts of our hotel bed.  With some coaxing, we made the 1 hour jaunt to Port Sulphur with the Gheenoe in tow a little after noon.   We were welcomed by the amply friendly owner of the boat launch.  We chatted as I prepped all the gear and loaded the boat, and wished us good luck as we launched.  We made the short 1 mile scoot to the first bay I had been instructed to target.  We found only slightly stained water, but were greeted with partly (changing to completely) cloudy skies.  This made my out of practice eyes even more challenged in being able to spot fish. 

 

Thankfully it didn’t take long to find fish tailing and pick out fish swimming near the bank.  After a couple flubbed casts at fish less than 20ft away, a missed hook set, and one fish that came unbuttoned on it’s first run, I finally was hooked up on a decent Red.  My wife never touched the spinning rod I had rigged up for her since she was content laying back with her feet up, and snapping a few action shots of me fighting my fish. 

 

Since she is inexperienced when it comes to fishing, she didn’t understand why I didn’t just reel the fish in, and why I kept letting it pull line.  Because her biggest fish was a 4lb catfish, I had to explain why this fish made my reel make the wonderful sound as the fish fought to get me into my backing, but never quite did.  It wasn’t the prettiest redfish (lacking a spot on the tail and possessing several deep scars), but it was self-guided, hooked on a fly I tied, and my first redfish on a fly.  So it was special to me. 

 

Shortly after the release, I rounded the corner and spotted a distinctive grey forked tail next the shore sticking out of the water.  I made a quick flip to the tailing fish and my fly was attacked as soon as it dropped in front of it’s face.  The fight was nowhere near what the redfish put up, but to catch a sheepshead on a fly was still very cool.  I’ve caught a couple on shrimp in the past, but I’ve been told it’s quite a big deal on a fly.  Since it was only the second one I’ve thrown a fly at (the first was 20 minutes before), I had to take other’s words for it.

 

 

Shortly after his release, the thicker clouds came in, and so did the gnats.  I knew this was my cue to pack up.  If I was ever to convince my wife to join me again, I knew better than to make her suffer through that.

The following day, my wife chose shopping and an afternoon at the day spa.  It was a fair trade to me going fishing by myself.   The weather was perfect.  I marveled at the perfectly clear sky.  I had visions of dozens of redfish, dancing in my head.  The wind was only blowing 4 mph, and I would be hitting a strong falling tide just in time.  This was going to be awesome.  I hit a spot further away based on my friend’s suggestion, and how he had done extremely well there just 2 weeks before.  Unfortunately, the water didn’t cooperate.  Each spot I hit was chocolate milk.  I spotted a couple tailers, and one belly crawling in 3” of water, but nothing came to fruition.  My very limited knowledge of the area prevented me from getting too adventurous in trying to find new water.  I trolled up a few channels up into some ponds hoping to find clean water, but each time was to no avail.  The water was teeming with life.  Shrimp and mullet were everywhere, but my quarry remained hidden.  The only real excitement of the day occurred when in a channel only 10 yards wide, a dolphin popped up 10 feet from me and exhaled in a loud blast.  Let me tell you, when you are all by yourself, in tight water, and the silence is broken by a dolphin breeching that close to you, it can be quite a shock.  It was quite neat however.  Dolphins are slightly more than unusual coming from the fresh water in Tennessee and Arkansas I’m used to.  My fish count for the day wasn’t a complete bagel.  I caught an 8” long catfish when blind casting.  He was also generous enough to gouge my finger worse than any other catfish I’ve caught.  So this would have been one of those times I would have preferred to be skunked.

The trip didn’t quite meet my hopes and dreams of an epic fishing trip, but I didn’t go home without some great memories to go with the few fish I did catch.  Though my wife may not have cared all that much, it was still cool that I got to share the unique experience of catching 2 fish species that were my first on a fly.  New Orleans left me wanting more.  I almost certainly will forgo a weekend of duck or deer hunting if I get another opportunity to make it down this fall when cleaner water, and even more redfish cruise into the saltwater marsh.