CCA at Texas State

Mere inches of water blanketed oyster reefs and bottomless mud. Navigating the narrow maze of twists and turns added to the intricacy of reaching the back lake on a low tide. Morning light provided just enough illumination to maneuver my shallow scooter through the minefield of abandoned crab traps and exposed patches of oyster shell.

A strong ebbing tide flushed bait from narrow bayous surrounding the pond. Conditions were ideal for showing new college friends some of my favorite spots for locating redfish.

A sudden turn into the deeper waters of the back lake allowed us to descend off plane. The break of silence alerted nearby gangs of redfish to stir and shuffle further across the lake.

Complementary winds blew at our backs allowing us to drift within casting distance of the tailing reds hanging just on the outer rim of the school. Tails danced above the surface of the nearly brackish water. Bronze backs shimmered as miniature baitfish jumped across the top of the water like leapfrogs on lily pads. My scooter's front and rear fishing platforms were occupied by anglers eagerly waiting for the signal to cast. The slightest nudge of a tackle box or the vibration of a footstep would surely kill our chances of hooking into one of the bruisers.

Weedless spoons and paddle tail soft plastics were aimed for the backside of the congregation and sent midair. Two of the bronze backs, perfect for the grill, curled rod tips and uplifted morning moods.

An airshow of seagulls caught my eye with high speed nose-dives and low flying swoops at the mouth of a nearby slough. My four-stroke motor, idling at a whisper, allowed us a closer look. Once more, scurrying baitfish and waving tails freed the butterflies in my stomach. The boat met the salt grass and the four of us escaped the gunnels armed with fishing rods in a covert style that James Bond would have envied.

We trampled knee high vegetation and sloshed through ankle deep water to reach the brink of the slough full of predators. Redfish were stacked edge to edge across the backwater channel. Four shots were pitched from the bordering salt grass into the shin deep stream. Tails angrily bashed the surface and the water boiled with escape attempts of muscular reds; the rodeo began.

Standing amidst the schooling reds, stripping line, and infinite miles of salt grass, I pondered if catching a trophy trout gives me more goose bumps. Each redfish surrendered against the shore of broken shell and soft, black mud; all were easily oversized.

We gradually picked off more of these pigs while trailing close behind. Gliding across the firm mud was easy at first until placing a foot in the deepest muck I have ever come in contact with. Knee high goo pulled at my legs and feet. I quickly felt like a statue; chasing the school any further was impossible. A last cast with a black and chartreuse paddle tail into the school paid off. Water instantly exploded displacing foam in all directions. Mud churned and all that I could do was hold on. The monster weaved between me and my fishing partner and spewed a wake as it burned down the lake's distant shore. The shallow water didn't allow much room for escape.

A salty bear hug seemed the only option to hoist it from the water. A lower jaw caked with mud, a sunburned back, and a belly boasting scrapes from oyster shell proved this redfish was a backwater warrior. I estimated it to easily clear 37 inches before releasing.

On the boat ride down the ICW back to the launch site I realized that this trip was special. We stumbled on undiscovered redfish, two of my three friends caught their first limit of reds, and I topped a personal best; however the occasion meant more to me. I introduced my love of fishing to new college friends as well as the future of the newly founded Texas State University chapter of the Coastal Conservation Association.

It was obvious when I started at Texas State; a CCA Chapter was needed there. Using some internet investigation and a Facebook.com group called Texas Coast Anglers, I began searching. One guy in particular, contacted me with his thoughts about starting a CCA chapter. Excited and surprised, we immediately got to planning; that is, after we made several fishing trips to the coast of course. He showed me quality fishing in the rivers and waters near his folks' bay house in Port Alto and I was fortunate to introduce him to his first 30 inch trout.

Several fishing trips were spent discussing how a Texas State CCA Chapter would be an excellent way to bond saltwater fishermen together and we assumed it would allow for the distribution of thoughts, ideas, and topics relating to fishing and life. He made the call to Robert Taylor after reading the CCA Texas article, in the October issue of Gulf Coast Connections, describing how to construct a college chapter of our own. We were soon informed that two others at Texas State had already begun building a chapter. Weeks later, we began attending our own weekly meetings, organizing a banquet, fishing together, and hanging out.

Call it coincidence or whatever you wish, but the chances of four fishermen in the same semester to attempt to start the first Coastal Conservation Association chapter at Texas State is likely rare.

The chapter has gained more memberships and continues to schedule trips across the coast to areas ranging from Matagorda to Port Mansfield.

CCA Texas Executive Director, Robby Byers stated in a CCA article that "College campuses hold the leaders of tomorrow, these college students are active because they believe in the efforts of the organization and understand the need to continually fight for the conservation of our coastal fisheries."

I feel the involvement of a university CCA Chapter promotes not only the betterment of our coastal fishing but also lasting friendships.

www.KyleTomek.com