Reds Reel (or "Best Chicken Ever") 11Mar15

With my 9wt "sharpened" and ready for a day of battle on the oyster flats of East Galveston Bay, I launched the Ford Explorer in the early morning darkness down I-45 packed with every conceivable item possibly needed (see Boy Scout motto... although hard to believe a pre-teen boy could afford 1/5 the crap you NEED to really be prepared to fish). Before I made it 3 miles down the road, I received the call... the dreaded call... from one of the most formidable fly fishing guides on the Gulf Coast. He informed me that, "radar shows that clouds are moving in" and that without sun, fly fishing would most likely be a bust. Just like bonefish on the flats of a remote Caribbean island, one needs to see redfish and must "cast to" your target. Sunlight is mandatory. He wanted to call it off before we even started.

I told him to keep the faith and that I'm intimately familiar with bolstering shitty forecasts... and that we should stick to our plan even if we had to change tactics once we were on the water. He reluctantly agreed and said that at least the winds show ~5 knots so we might be able to get into a few.

Daylight broke as I pulled up to the boat ramp, the winds were now up at 10-15 knots and my guide offered another out with some deep qualification on what success would mean. I declined the last invitation to cancel and said that I we might have another option. At this moment... from the back of the Explorer... I pulled out THE low-profile Shimano Curado 7.0:1 laced with 30 lb braided line on a 6'7" jig setup (pretty sure this is how Arthur felt and looked when he pulled Excalibur from the stone). To most humans the formula works this way, (15 knot winds) + (braided line) + (baitcaster) = backlash that would remind you of 70's porn.

However, I was not human that morning (I was a DHR employee with a day off)... after a 20 minute trip out on the skiff the braided line started bombing the flats (about 4-6" deep). Mist ripped off the reel as the blind casts reached out to 80' to cover massive amounts of water. In the first 10 minutes, I had the first redfish of the day. He offered up a great fight for about 5 minutes... and the perfect size for the grill.

We made two more "bombing runs" on the same flats with the same result and had our limit in less than 30 minutes. Each fight was epic and we had 3 keepers. The barometric pressure was rising and temperature was dropping as the winds were gusting to almost 30 knots at times. The guide painted social media on the results and jealous comments from his peers flowed in. He was happy and I was a ecstatic. We retired to the bait shop & grill (smells of class) and had a late breakfast... feeling like redfish superheroes. 

That night I cleaned up the fish into fillets and breaded them for the evening meal. If you have never had fresh redfish, you are missing out. 

The last, best part of the day was at dinner when my 5 year old boy (see "picky eater") tore through the last of the fish that night stating,"Dad this is the best chicken ever." Great day!