Louisiana Red Fish Trip 24’

     About 8 years ago I started to fantasize about catching a big bull red on a fly rod.  I had chances in the past at smaller reds.  20-28 inches being a good one down in the parts of Florida I had fished.  But those never did it for me.  I always had my eyes set on holding a dinosaur.  A fish that you see in the water and think a fast, successive, series of four letter words while buck fever pulses through you.  That’s the experience I was hoping to find.

A good one from a few years back

     After a little research, and a lot of back and forth, I took a chance on a small town in Louisiana with a guide Jeremy Chavez.  The first time we fished together was out of Dulac, we have since bounced around to other boat ramps, but always in south eastern LA.  What follows in this post is not what to pack, or a what to expect , it’s just a good ole’ fashion story of this year’s Mardi Gras bull Red Fish hunt.

      The trip started out at an ungodly hour.  After picking up Lars, a Red Fish virgin, we navigated our way through a couple airports,  and finally arrived in New Orleans.  We met up with Lukas at baggage claim, he’s a hippie Oregon coast Steelhead guide that pinches his barbs and had also never tagged a red. 

     Our first screw up was staring us in the face at the rental car pick up office.  This trip unfortunately overlapped with Mardi Gras so the place was packed.  We had to drive around parades…yeah like fucking parades, bands, speakers, beads being thrown parades, the whole way to the place!

     On our way to the rental house we stopped in Houma to buy groceries.  Now we are going to make this tangent because, well it’s fucking funny.  Picture 3 tall gangly white boys dressed in variations of Patagonia, Simms, and Chacos.  If it was the Red Rocks concert parking lot, shit we’d blend in like trees in a forest.  But that was absolutely not the case where we found ourselves grocery shopping. 

      We get in there.  We do our shopping.  We get to the check-out line.

      This AMAZING black lady, clearly profiling us, looks up at us and asks, “Who in this group gonna cook them greens?”  Having been blind sided by the question the three of us stood like silent idiots.  She repeated the question, gesturing to what Lukas, Lars, and I thought was just shitty looking romance lettuce.

     “Well, I think we are just gonna throw it on sandwiches?” Was the stupid response that dribbled out of someone’s mouth.

     Lukas would later describe this lady as pointing her face at the floor while staring right at him.  “You boys sure as hell ain’t putting that on no sandwhich!”  She said with a motherly but forceful tone.  Again we look at each other, wondering what the hell we did.  As this is happening other employees are gathering.   Three other black ladies are now looking at us, laughter in their eyes and pity on their lips.  

     “You boys ain’t from around here are you!”  One of the new attendee’s offers.  It wasn’t a question so much as her announcing to the now gathered group that their suspicions were correct.

     Have you ever stood with your friends, knowing you did something stupid, but not quite knowing what it was.  To be clear we were being actively profiled.  CORRECTLY SO, I may add.  Clearly we were not from here, and these ladies saw a group of hippie looking white boys holding mustard greens, thinking it was regular lettuce.  For them to stop us from making a culinary error you have to assume they all had the same thought.  Something to the effect of, ‘these fucking white boys are not qualified to cook southern greens, and they have no idea what they are about to spend money on’   And, they were so right!!!!  #racialprofilingforthewin

     We stayed at the awesome Airbnb about 5 minutes from the boat ramp.  It’s called the Gators Den and you can find it listed HERE on VRBO.  It provided the perfect opportunity to fish from the docks at night for various local species, while offering the right balance of comfort, price, and location.  With a beautiful raised deck we could sit out back enjoy the breeze and enjoy some of Jeff’s grilling.  Jeff is the fourth character in this story.  A one time-long time five star chef tuned fishing guide, he is a really good friend to have.  He also happens to be the raddest baddest cat in town.  That dude can cook.  

Jeff made beef cuts.

 Sometimes the weather wins

     Having been down on this trip for years we landed on the sweet spot of three days of fishing.  This trip we had 3 boats the first the day.  Boats ran by Jeremy, Tucker, and Hudson.   Conditions, well they sucked.  Light was flat, water was muddy from all the wind, and temperatures were hot.  So it wasn’t going our way.  We didn’t get a lot of shots day 1.  Hey, it happens.  Storm came rolling in that night, 40 knot winds out of the north, we knew day 2 was going to suck.  Thankfully Jeremy called and said we weren’t even going try.   A guide’s mercy is always appreciated.  

     Since we couldn’t go fish on day two, we decided we were going eating.  We four dudes who live in the top left of the country wanted Cajun seafood.  We started at Cean’s.   Oyster Po’ Boy and Crawfish Boudin for me.  Everyone says get the chicken there.  But come on, we wanted seafood.

More FOOD

Then we headed north to the Cajun Fresh Market for Kracklins, sausages, and crawfish pies.

Pork Kracklins

The finally, a tradition, and a must visit is Big Al’s.  Now don’t get it twisted.   It’s a must visit when you compare it to the other ‘in radius’ options.   But still, it’s something I look forward to every year.  A big plater of Shrimp and crawfish, a side of charbroiled oysters, splash it with a coke.

CRAWFISH

Back to the house.  Frozen shrimp we scored at the local gas station slipped on a Carolina rig, we went back to dock fishing that night.   Lars and Luke hit big black drum early off the dock.  Finally we upped our bait size and stopped catching catfish.  That’s when Jeff hooked into fat drum. We went on to find a few spec trout, because trout guides catch trout everywhere.  But nothing of size.   

Luke’s fat black drum on an ultralight rod!

Jeff side eyein a big black drum of the dock

      So we wake up day 3, the weather is beautiful.  Sunrise painted over on the marsh.  That sweet humid salt air that gives fisherman partial chubs.  Get out on the water its beautiful, but the water is dirty and muddy from the Nuke 30kn winds all day the day before.  It was tough but the boys made the most of their opportunities.  Already looking forward to returning next year!

Coffee and the sunrise

Lars finally got himself a big one!

Luke and Jeff with a good one

Black drum, the less appreciated big dumb cousin of the red

Best goddamn gator sausage you ever ate!