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Twelve days. Two hundred and eighty-eight hours. Any way you measure it, that’s a hell of a long time to wait for the weather to get cooperative enough to allow for a single offshore fishing trip.
But wait we did. Capt. Frank Houser, a veteran Rockport, Texas-area fishing pro, had retrofitted his boat, a classic 1978 20-foot Wellcraft with a 175-horse Mercury outboard, and assured me that if I brought the baits he’d make the run out of the Port Aransas jetties.
So I did. And, after a great deal of anticipation, we cleared the jetty mouth early in the morning and ventured a relatively short distance offshore to enjoy some outright outstanding action for hard-hitting king mackerel. Wave heights were 3 to 4 feet, but compared to what things had been throughout the previous week it was as good as calm in our book.
It’s not entirely unusual at this time of year for Port Aransas-area anglers to take kingfish from the rocks of the jetties. Accordingly, it wasn’t surprising that we found significant numbers of feeding fish inside of 10 miles offshore. A total of eight big ships, tankers and freighters from all over the planet, were anchored up in the area. Their massive metal hulls cast long, dark shadows, every one cloaking a hungry school of the speedy, razor-toothed predators.
In between ship stops, Houser, his old friend Bob Thomas and Yours Truly slow-trolled 1-1/2-ounce gold Rat-L-Trap plugs with amazingly consistent results. The big and shiny tight-wobbling lures were virtually irresistible to kings in the 10- to 14-pound range, and in my humble estimation are as good a king mackerel trolling lure as you’ll find anywhere. Had we wished to duke it out with smaller kingfish the entire morning we could have easily done so. Our long-awaited mission, however, was to drift XL-size live Black Salty baitfish next to the looming steel hulls and selectively extract larger fish.
The results? Mission accomplished.
It was only one of a half-dozen or so recent fishing trips I will profile in the weeks to come (My extended absence from this site as of late is due to said field research.) But of the lot, the outing with Houser and Thomas was as unique and enjoyable as any.
Big live bait, big fish, or so the theory goes. Once again, it was supported by rod-bending results.
I’ve been an enthusiastic “mosquito fleet” fisherman since my early college years, when I just about broke my bank account with the partnership purchase of a 19-1/2-foot Grady White and a big Chevy Blazer to pull it. Difference was, we did our fishing out of Galveston and Freeport, Upper Texas Coast ports from which it is virtually mandatory to run at least 25 miles offshore in order to reach productive water.
One of the many great things about fishing out of Port Aransas is the proximity of quality fishing within close range of the shoreline. Aboard a small center-console in the midst of a thunderstorm-prone summer afternoon, the close-to-shore factor is a major consideration. Furthermore, with gas pushing $4.25 a gallon, the short run seems all the better nowadays.
This was the second time I had ridden in this particular rodeo. Two years ago, fishing with Houser and fellow Rockport-based pro and friend Capt. Chris Fortin, we executed the same basic drill. That trip, another Black Salty field-testing expedition, yielded just as many but slightly smaller kingfish, but it more than made up for it with a 35-pound ling and a 34-inch Spanish mackerel that weighed in exactly one pound shy of the Texas state record.
This go-around, the bigger kingfish stole the show.
A 20-pound king mackerel is not about to take first-place honors in the average Texas offshore fishing tournament. Nonetheless, battled on light to medium tackle, the fighting characteristics and blistering initial runs of the silver-sided gamefish will win your heart. I had been looking forward to trying out a brand-new Woodee tarpon rod, and the long-handled graphite stick did not let me down.
Think “trout rod on steroids.”

Read: Black Salty Kingfish: A Long Wait for a Short Haul »

All summer long, the kid had been on me.
“You ever gonna take me fishing, dude?”
“More than likely.”
“When?”
“Just as soon as you quit calling me ‘dude.’”
And so, several afternoons later, the phone rang.
“Hey dude …, uh, Mr. Bozka. Tomorrow’s a teacher-in-service holiday, so I’m free. You gonna take me fishing?” A pregnant pause.
“Please?”
“Okay. Meet me under the bridge at 5:30.”
His stepmother dropped him off at the boat ramp 15 minutes early. His father, she quietly explained, had departed for parts unknown while the kid was still in diapers.
“Don’t worry,” I assured her. “I’ll take care of him.”
“Someone needs to,” she quipped. “But seriously, you make him act right. You know how he can be.”
Indeed I did. Still, despite his annoying tendencies, I couldn’t help but like the kid. He apparently liked me, too. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have dropped by to see me so often.
Then again, it could have been the Big Boy’s Toy Shop that’s my garage.
“You want that lure, dude?”
“You can have it, Brandon.”
“Thanks, dude.”
The Plano double-decker I’d given him several years before was neatly packed with the various plugs, spoons and soft plastics he had acquired during his frequent visits.
He looked much the same, like a gangly Labrador puppy trying to grow a body big enough to fit its feet. Drab green, multi-pocketed pants big enough to hold the Cowboys’ offensive line hung low on his waist, cinched tight with an old leather belt. He wore a plain black tee-shirt beneath a bright red Trilene windbreaker he’d procured from my collection. Between his clothing and his spiked blonde hair with blaze-orange tips, he looked not at all unlike a MirrOlure 808.
“All right, Brandon. Here’s the deal. I run the boat; you fish. And you do what I tell you. Got it?”
“Yes sir.”
“Sir?”
“Yes sir. I want to learn to fish.”
“Well then, let’s get with it.”
In retrospect, the line of questioning was far more memorable than the fishing.
“You guys always talk about ‘blow-ups.’ What’s a blow-up?”
“A blow-up,” I explained, “is the big splash you see on the surface when a fish strikes at a topwater plug.”
“But you don’t hook the fish?”
“Nope. That would be a hook-up.”
“Sounds like you get a lot more blow-ups than you do hook-ups.”
“Yes sir,” I answered. “ I do.”
“Sir?”
“You call me ‘sir,’ and I’ll call you ‘sir.” That’s only fair, right?”
“Yes sir.”
The boy made a few casts, then stopped to watch the gulls hovering overhead.
“If you miss a fish on a sinking lure …would that be a ‘blow-down’”?
I couldn’t help but laugh, which pleased him immensely. “Yeah, I guess it would.”
“You get a whole lot of those, too, don’t you?”
“Don’t push your luck, kid.”
“Tell me about this ‘nervous bait’ thing.”
“Well, when you see baitfish crashing out of the water or acting skittish, that’s nervous bait. If you see nervous bait, you stop and fish.”
“So you ignore ‘calm’ bait?”
I tried to come up with an answer. It wasn’t readily available.
“Hey, Mr. Bozka …”
“Yes sir?”
“If I was a mullet, I’d be nervous all the time.”
“You’ve got a point there, kid.”
“I’ve got another question.”
“You don’t say.”
“Yeah. I mean, yes sir. Why is it they call big redfish ‘bulls’ and big snapper ‘sows’? Aren’t they both girls?”
“Yes sir; they’re both girls.”
“Then why call a girl redfish a ‘bull’?”
“I don’t know, lad. Let’s focus on the stuff that’ll help you catch fish.”
“But that doesn’t make any sense.”
“Young man,” I said, “you’re going to learn that many things about fishing, and life in general, don’t make a lick of sense.”
“Like girls?”
“We’re gonna stick with fishing, okay?”
“Okay. But there’s sure a lot of stuff you don’t seem to know much about.”
“My friend, that may be the most intelligent thing you’ve said all morning.”
It echoed in my mind. The kid, young and impetuous as he was, through either intent or sheer happenstance, had become my friend.
We fished together two more times before he left town.
Two months later, a letter arrived, return-addressed “Fort Polk, Louisiana.” The kid had just completed Army boot camp.
“It’s supposed to be ‘lights out,’ so I’m writing this with a flashlight under the covers. Every time the DI calls us ‘mullet,” I think about our fishing trips. I’m learning to respect others, and to respect myself. I’ve put on a lot of weight. I can do 50 push-ups,” he proudly wrote, “and I can bench-press 190.”
He told me all about his pals, his training, and his pending assignment overseas. He said his mother missed him, and that he missed her, too.
“I miss you, too, Mr. Bozka. You think you could make time to take me fishing when I come home on leave?”
I wrote him back the same day.
“Soon as you get back home, sir. Just as soon as you get home.”

Read: Every Memorial Day, I Remember The Kid »

It was with mixed emotions that I learned of Dr. Larry McKinney’s departure from the ranks of the Texas Parks & Wildlife Department. I have worked with Dr. McKinney on a great many print and broadcast stories over the past two decades, and without exception, he exhibited a degree of candor and integrity that is the epitome of media professionalism.

Yes, I am sad to hear that my friend Larry McKinney is leaving TPWD. He has been a tremendous asset to the department, and fought a great many battles on our behalves. On the other hand, I am really happy for a first-class guy who has earned everything he has achieved through sheer hard work and determination.

I most recently spoke with Dr. McKinney at the Texas Outdoor Writers Association’s annual conference in College Station. Once again, I was impressed by his dogged determination to steadfastly represent the interests of the fishing community … and in that particular instance, those of us who are having to deal with a set of federally-mandated red snapper regulations that at their best can only be described as convoluted and ill-conceived.

Congratulations on a job well-done, Dr. McKinney. And best wishes to you and yours as you move into place with the Harte Research Institute for Gulf of Mexico Studies at Texas A&M University-Corpus Christi.

Something tells me that we are a long way from done in terms of working together. I certainly hope so.

Good sources are hard to find. Good sources who are also bona fide good guys are even rarer.

Boz
McKinney Leaves Environmental Legacy at TPWD
AUSTIN, Texas — Dr. Larry McKinney, known affectionately as “Dr. Doom” for his candid, outspoken approach to addressing environmental issues, is leaving the Texas Parks and Wildlife Department a legacy not built on despair, but on hope.
For more than 20 years with the department, McKinney has championed endangered and threatened species and served as a proponent for resource conservation, water resources in particular. McKinney, director of Coastal Fisheries and senior director of Aquatic Resources for TPWD, has been named executive director of the Harte Research Institute for Gulf of Mexico Studies at Texas A&M University-Corpus Christi. He assumes his new role in July.
“All of us at Texas Parks and Wildlife Department will miss Dr. McKinney’s extraordinary leadership, scientific acumen, vision, and conservation ethic while serving as Director of Coastal Fisheries,” said Carter Smith, TPWD executive director.
“During his nearly 25 year tenure with the agency, he has been at the forefront of innovative conservation efforts to protect our

Read: Dr. Larry McKinney Leaves a Sterling Legacy at TPWD »

I covered this topic in an issue of Salt Water Sportsman last fall, and have gotten enough requests for the info that it arguably merits another look.
The subject?
A handy little technique that I simply call “stationary downrigging.”
Most fishermen, understandably, equate downriggers with trolling. “Controlled-depth fishing” is the name of the game, but unknown to many, it works just as well with the placement of stationary bait.
 Downriggers are invaluable to light-tackle enthusiasts who otherwise would have to use heavy-duty gear to take baits deep into jetty channels and other current-prone locales. Simply clip the line (or, depending upon its length, the forward end of the leader), ahead of the bait, to the downrigger clip on the unit’s “cannonball” weight. It’s than a matter of just lowering the combo to the preferred depth and waiting for the strike.
 When that strike finally comes, and the bait pops free of the retainer clip, the angler can enjoy all the advantages of heavyweight tackle but still manage to experience the thrill of tackling large, deep-water species on considerably lighter rod-and-reel combos.
 It’s not uncommon to have to use 8 ounces of lead to hold a bait in place during periods of heavy tidal flow while fishing off the generally-deep waters of a channel adjacent to a jetty. One of my favorite spots, an oft-proven place where I regularly go to affirm the fish-catching propensity of live offshore-size Black Salty baitfish via great-big bull reds, large speckled trout and other species, is a deep hole on the ship channel side of the North Galveston Jetty.
 At this particular locale, there is a bedroom-sized hole between the rocks only 30 or 40 feet off of the jetty. The water around the hole is roughly 40 feet deep, but inside the hole it slightly … but significantly … drops to 43 or 44 feet. Baitfish take advantage of that hole, since it affords much-needed relief from the overwhelming power of currents in which the forage species have to fight to stay in place, or simply get washed offshore, making them easy prey for waiting, opportunistic predators like redfish, trout, black drum and other species that typically roam the length of the water column in search of forage.
 Until the advent of stationary downrigging (again, my own pet name for the technique), we used heavy boat rods, heavy reels and heavy line with heavyweight leads (usually, rigged “Nassau”-style) to get the wiggling Black Salty or other live bait down into the sweet spot. It works, but it takes an exhausting toll on the angler (think deep-water snapper fishing, but on a slightly lesser scale, nonetheless involving the cranking of mucho-heavy lead off of the bottom).
 Be forewarned: It takes experience and effort to get this just right in terms of placement, both with the boat and the line.
 First of all, you find the hole off of the rocks via a depthfinder readout (and the spot I describe here is only one of many more much like it situated on the ship channel side

Read: “Stationary Downrigging” Affords a Calculated Deep-Water Angling Edge »

SURFSIDE, TX – If you have driven over the Surfside Bridge lately, you’re bound to have seen it. As you’re heading toward Surfside Beach, cresting the bridge, to your right is situated a brand-new (and really big) facility that has changed the face of sport fishing amenities on the Upper Texas Coast.
 My friend and video production partner Dave Aitken and I visited the marina during its grand opening a few weeks ago, courtesy of a gracious offer from Surfside Marina General Manager Dwayne Von Schmidt. The place is something else … and I mean that in a good way.
 The Freeport/Surfside area has always hosted its share of fishing outlets. However, with the exception of a small but effective collection of individual charter boat operators, the majority of those have been comprised of partyboat operators or commercial fishing entities.
Surfside Marina, Von Schmidt says, “Is all about sport fishing.”
 Specifically that entails, among other amenities and features, a full-service, 260-boat dry stack storage facility that is custom-designed to store and protect power boats from 20 to 42 feet in length. The marina also accommodates 38 deluxe wet slips via a high-end floating aluminum dock system situated atop steel pilings.Whether storing a boat at the facility or simply stocking it up while on the way out to the Freeport jetties and beyond (the jetties are only minutes away, a quick run down the Gulf Intracoastal Waterway), visiting skippers can take advantage of diesel and gasoline fuel stations, an onsite restaurant, retail sales center, well-stocked ship’s store and all the bait, ice and supplies any angler requires for a full day of fishing on the open expanse of the Gulf.
 Aitken and I got a chance to personally tour the facility during the grand opening. It’s all first-class.
The “dry stack” boat storage concept is making more and more sense to owners of boats both large and small as fuel and towing costs continue to soar … and that’s without even considering the sheer convenience aspects. It’s really nice to know your rig is ready to go when you get there, and via this setup, it will be. From fueling it up before you head out the rigs to washing it down (or even waxing the hull) after you get back in, Von Schmidt and crew are ready to rock.
 If you see a 33-foot Donzi with Deadline and the Bozka Outdoor Media logo emblazoned on the hull while you’re down that way, that’ll be Aitken and me. We understand the benefits, not the least of which is shared experience garnered from some of the Upper Coast’s most knowledgeable skippers.
One of the many great things about launching out of a facility like this, or especially keeping your boat onsite, is that by the essential nature of the setup you’ll rub elbows with a lot of other folks who make it a point to stay abreast of gamefish opportunities offshore out of Freeport. They tend to be surprisingly willing to share information and tips. There are also going to be more than a few serious tournaments held out of this brand-new location in the months to come (tournament scheduling is currently in progress, and we’ll keep you posted here on CoastalAnglers.com).
 Again, this is a fishing-focused facility, built for serious sport fishermen by guys who themselves are serious sport fishermen. The Surfside/Freeport area has needed something exactly like this place for quite a while, and now that it’s there I hope you’ll take the time to check it out.
 You can find more details, including boat storage rates (dry stack and wet slip) by logging on to the Web at www.surfside-marina.com. Or, give Von Schmidt a call at 979-230-9400. He’s a competent, personable and professional guy if ever you’ve met one.
 Surfside Marina is located one-half-mile north of Surfside Beach (827 Gulf Road) on the southwest side of the Surfside Bridge. Turn right on Cobia Drive to Shark Lane as you come off the bridge.
It’s virtually impossible to miss this place, unless the fog is so thick you shouldn’t be on the water anyway.
 And in that case, we’d be talking some serious fog.
 Hope to see you there.

Read: Surfside Marina Now Open to Sport Fishermen »