Topwater Mayhem

When word of the apocalypse first was brought to my attention I felt unprepared. I thought “what am I going to do on my last day of existence.” That thought didn’t last long. I had my rods, reels, tackle, and kayak loaded up Friday night in preparation for what was going to take place. With judgment day on the horizon I couldn’t think of any other place I would rather be than on the water catching fish. And did we ever catch fish.

There are special days on the water when things come together. The days the stars align and nothing goes wrong, except for tangled lines, pulled hooks, break offs and straightened split rings. But in the moment those calamities are easily forgotten and part of the excitement. Especially when you feel another fish is one cast and a few twitches of your topwater away. These are the days us addicts, i.e. fisherman, live for. The special days that leave an imprint in your memory.

Saturday was one of those days.

Jason, Mark, and I hit the water on Saturday with the intention of exploring a new area. We started off on the south end of the marsh we were fishing to have the wind at our backs as we worked our way north. When we arrived the water was high and the tide was coming in. The day started off slow until we found a reliable pattern. We quickly realized the fish were holding in wind-blown areas. We didn’t get very many bites on protected shorelines but anytime we found unsheltered water we found fish.

I picked up a few reds early on a topwater and met back up with Jason and he picked up a fish a little later on top as well. Mark was in another part of the marsh and he also picked up a small redfish on a topwater. The fish were not very aggressive so we were missing a bunch of bites. They would just come up to the surface and suck the bait down rather than exploding on our lures trying to eat.

We split up to cover water and a short while later I got a call from Jason that he picked up a few reds on a wind-blown shoreline. I continued working the area I was in and I got another call from Jason only minutes later. He told me to paddle to where he was at fast because he was getting blowups on nearly every cast and had landed a few more fish since we last spoke. I hightailed it to where Jason was fishing. I arrived to find Jason with his rod bowed over and another upper slot red was brought to hand. Mark knew something was up when he saw me paddling hurriedly over to Jason, so he also made his way toward us.

The next two hours was insane. One of the best topwater redfish bites I’ve ever witnessed. Almost every cast we were getting blowups or catching fish and nearly every fish was on the upper end of the slot. The fish were crushing our lures. There was no mistaking a bite; each strike resembled the commotion a cinder block would make if it fell from the sky and into the water.

We caught 6-8lb reds until we were sore. Lure selection and color made no difference. We caught fish on a TTF Flush, a Mirrolure She-Dog, a Rapala Skitterwalk, and a Heddon Super Spook. As long as it floated it caught fish. We caught a majority of our fish in knee to thigh deep water over scattered shell on a strong incoming tide. Jason was on fire and accounted for about two thirds of our fish. Realistically, we ended the day with approximately 40 redfish. We could have doubled that number if we would have landed all the fish we missed.

Over the years I have experienced some phenomenal days on the water and last Saturday will go down as one of those days. While experiencing the smiles, laughter, high fives, and enthusiasm that each surface-smashing explosion created, I thought to myself “this is what fishing is all about.” Thoughts of judgment day never entered my consciousness, but I could think of no better way to go out than on top. Pun intended.

About the author

Jeremy Chavez is a full-time fly and light tackle fishing guide who hails from the Bayou City (Houston, Texas for those of you not in the know). He eats, sleeps and breathes fish. He left (he was laid-off but who's keeping tabs) his career as a bean counter (he has a master's degree in accounting) to chase his dream of becoming a nomadic fish bum.

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