Trying for a Texas Slam
“What do you mean let him go? You just said he’s the fish of a lifetime!”
“He is. But he’s too big. You have to let him go.”
I ignored my guide Josh Limmer and instead stared at the beast of a speckled trout in my hands. He measured just over 25 inches in length, carried a midsection like a football, and was seemingly carved of lean muscle. He was dark gray in color, sported a snow-white belly, and carried the characteristic black round spots on his back, fins, and tail. He was beautiful and would make a fantastic meal.
“What do you mean he’s too big?” I asked in argument once more.
Josh patiently explained that the current regulations for Corpus Christi Bay allowed for anglers to keep trout that measured between 17 inches and 23 inches. “You can’t keep a fish over 23 inches in length.” At 25 inches plus, my fish had to go back in the drink. I sighed, accepted the law, and sent by beast over the side of the boat. It hurt.
My trip to the bay had been five years in the planning. Josh had invited me to come down to Aransas Pass to fish with him back in 2018. Unfortunately, things always came up. Bad weather, family dealings, and the COVID Pandemic were just a few of the things that kept me from making the trip. Truth be told I almost didn’t make the trip this time as Josh felt my journey south would be wasted. “The weather hasn’t been the best. We’ve had a southeast wind that has just been wreaking havoc on the fishing,” Josh explained over the phone three days before me trip was to start. I asked him if I should cancel my trip. “No. I’m just telling you it will be hard fishing. We’ll do what we can, but it’ll be hard.”
A completely honest fishing guide: I love it.
I agreed and headed south to San Antonio then jumped on the F1 Track that is Interstate 37. Despite my pushing my Toyota FJ to the max of 80 mph, I was regularly passed by trucks hauling boats to the coast like I was standing still. I reached the Microtel Inn & Suites by Wyndham Aransas Pass / Corpus Christi around 1:30 in the afternoon and was immediately not greeted by a young lady named Nicole. I say, “not greeted” because she didn’t look up from her phone when I walked in and continued staring at it as she barked at me “Check in’s not ‘till 3:00!” Thank you, Nicole. I headed down the street to a waterfront bar and grill called Coasters where I was treated like an actual human being and spent the next two hours drinking beer, eating freshly caught shrimp, and watching boats travel in and out of Conn Brown Harbor. I met Josh at the boat ramp at that Harbor the next morning around 6:30.
We loaded my cooler in his 21-foot boat, I shellacked myself in sunscreen, and got ready for a day on the bay. Josh reiterated that he’d like me to box the Texas Slam (Catch and put on ice a red, trout, and flounder) but that it might be difficult to do such as the wind was still an issue. We cast off and headed to a spot Josh said he hoped would be sheltered from the wind and prove to put some fish on hooks. En route, Josh told me how he’d been fishing for 40 years and turned part time guide about 10 years ago. His plan is to turn fulltime after he retires as an administrator from Rockport ISD in five years. We reached a cut that was once used to park barges in needed of repair. This narrow inlet had shallow banks that dropped off sharply more than eight feet. We put some live shrimp on hooks and cast toward shore. After losing about 10 in a row to some fast nibblers, I finally managed to land a red.
“He’s got an eye disease,” Josh declared.
“Huh?”
“His eyes are too close to his tail.”
I laughed then watched as Josh measured the problematic fish. It was 19 inches. Or one inch short of a keeper.
We kept at it, and I quickly landed gafftop and hardhead catfish, a needlefish, several croaker, a few trout with an eye disease, several rays, and then a nice 17 inch flounder that went in the ice chest. And although I was having a great time fishing given the number and variety of fish I was catching, Josh wasn’t. He felt we could do much better and suggested we move. Josh fired up the boat and we cruised over to Steadman's Flats.
Josh explained that this extensive grass flat featured lots of sandy potholes and had deep water bordering it on all sides. He felt we had a good chance to land some red fish as well as maybe some trout and flounder as well. He was right. Well, about everything except the flounder. In the next hour we landed plenty of reds and trout and I managed to put two 17-inch trout on ice. When the fishing slowed down, Josh had us move again, this time to just off a gas platform that he said usually held a number of trout. It did and we caught several undersized fish and managed to put a few more into the cooler.
During our time off the gas pump – and with the wind pushing up swells of a foot and a half – I landed several more rays, a few sheepshead, a couple of hardhead catfish, and put on ice a few more legal trout and a few drum. I was reeling in the latter when an inspection boat tore toward the pump throwing a wake our way that sent both Josh and I reaching for something to hold on to. We rode out the up and down, cursed the rudeness of the driver sent to check on the pump, and headed for a rock cropping that stood sheltered by the wind from a newly formed island of dredged material. There I pulled in mangrove snapper after mangrove snapper until I had five on ice. I initially hesitated at putting such small fish (Each was under three pounds and there is no minimum length requirement in Texas waters) but Josh assured me that these “taco fish” were perfect for just that. I landed a few more taco fish and Josh started up the boat to take us to yet another spot. Or rather spots.
We fished up and down the coast of a few manmade islands and had tremendous success. I landed a few more legal-sized trout, caught and released a number of not legal-sized trout and red, and battled with what Josh believed to be a 19-inch trout that snapped my line right at the boat.
“That was a damn nice fish,” Josh exclaimed. “But lines break.”
Gee, thanks Josh. I feel so much better about losing what would have been the biggest trout I ever caught.
We moved down the island a tad further and tried again. After catching and releasing a few more undersized trout, my reeled screamed.
“What you got?!” Josh asked.
I didn’t know but kept my “Rod to God” and kept up the fight. A lightning flash of silver streaked just in front of the boat and Josh’s eyes went wide. He grabbed the net and offered words of encouragement.
“Keep your rod up. Reel. Don’t screw this up.”
Somehow, I didn’t and managed to land the largest trout of my life. The beast was 25 inches in length and two inches over the legal limit of 23 inches. So, after a few pics and high fives, he – very reluctantly on my part - went back in the drink. As it was doubtful I’d top that fish, and as the day was only growing hotter, Josh and I called it a day and headed back to the dock. We cleaned and packed my fish, and I had a celebratory beer. Ok, a few celebratory beers. Josh said he felt bad that I never landed a legal red and thus never completed a Texas Slam consisting of putting a legal red, flounder, and trout on ice. I said I didn’t care as it gave me a reason to come back.
And I will.
Soon.
Contact Captain Josh Limmer at 325-215-3041.
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