Local Martial Arts Studios
July 11, 2013
Tampico’s non-stop party in Bayou Vista
July 11, 2013
“At least the weather is looking a lot better than last year,” says Leigh Guidry as I remember the black clouds and waterspouts that cancelled the media fishing rodeo last year. “It’s going to be a hot one, though.”
Each year the Golden Meadow-Fourchon International Tarpon Rodeo Board hosts a media- and board-only rodeo, which culminates in the awarding of “non-Lombardi trophies,” as rodeo board president Chris Moran refers to them, for the largest speckled trout, drum and redfish.
This year Guidry, a rodeo board member, and I take our seats aboard John Chauvin’s boat. We are joined by fellow anglers Lawrence Chatagnier, of Bayou Catholic Magazine, and his son-in-law Case Terrebonne. It’s apparent that although the weather will allow us to play this year, it will dictate our choices and success.
At 6:45 a.m., the weather and my state of mind are just about on par: partly cloudy to sunny as I finish off a cup of coffee and clouds breeze northward off the Gulf. The temperature is quickly rising, but the breeze, which is good for keeping cooler but detrimental to angling, is blowing stiffly.
“Let’s get somewhere where we can stay out of this wind,” Chauvin says as he fires up the boat motor and zooms us through marsh and into open water on the west side of the ship channel leading out of Port Fourchon. “We’ll try to get some specks in the ice chest first and then look for some bull reds.”
Fifteen minutes later, Chauvin pulls us to the backside of a small grassy island and anchors the boat off a point with water moving swiftly around it. Moments later five lines, each with Carolina-rigged live shrimp, are in the water, and everyone has staked out a fishing spot along the edge of the boat.
Luck seems to be on my side for this year’s trip as I soon reel in our boat’s first fish. Alas, my fortune is short lived, and I pull the wee speckled trout off my hook and toss it back into the water.
After reeling in more saltwater catfish than speckled trout, Chauvin, Chatagnier and Terrebonne trade in their shrimp for cocahoe minnows. Guidry sticks to shrimp and keeps reeling catfish, rinsing and repeating.
I reel in nothing but bait for about 20 minutes, until, suddenly, my line is given a jolt.
“What you got there,” Chauvin calls out from the back of the boat. “Something big?”
“No clue,” I say as my rod doubles over and my grip tightens. “This thing is giving me hell though.”
My mind flies back to 2007, and memories of my first big fish fight with a 50-pound black drum begin to race through my head as I dig the rod into my stomach to gain some traction on the fish.
“I think it’s a big red,” Chauvin says as the fish begins to break near the surface of the water. “Or not.”
My 45-second fight with a 2-foot-wide stingray comes to a quick end as Chauvin cuts the line and tosses me a new hook and shrimp.
But I decide to give my rod a rest and pull out my camera to snap pictures of the rest of the anglers as they pull in a few rat reds, angler-speak for a redfish that is too small to keep, and a few speckled trout, including a 3-to-4 pound speck Guidry reels in.
A few moments before seeking a new location, I wet my line one last time, reeling in what looks like either a very old T-shirt or a ratty pair of panty hose. Bonus? An attached crab that could have fit in the palm of my hand.
“That’s certainly a contender if we had a most original catch award,” Guidry says, as Chauvin cranks the boat and we take our seats.
By the time we reach our next fishing spot, a canal just north of our previous position, almost all the earlier cloud cover is gone, and the sun is beating down on the boat. It’s all hands back on deck, and lines zip out in all directions from the boat.
Although the water is much calmer at the protected spot, the fish are not really biting our shrimp under popping corks, and we soon find ourselves joining about 10 other boats working the rocks in the ship channel jetties.
“I don’t think we’re going to stay here too long,” Chauvin says. “The swells here can get pretty rough.”
After 15 minutes of rocking and rolling with only a few bites, we are soon flying north past Port Fourchon.
“Let’s hit these rocks right here,” Chauvin says as he tosses the anchor out near the intersection of bayous Cochon and Lafourche.
While Terrebonne, Chatagnier and Chauvin get a few bites and land a few catfish and specks, Guidry and I launch our lines just shy of the rock piles, a few casts only successful in attaching to underwater obstructions. As we watch other anglers hop out of their boats to fish a little closer to shore and perhaps cool off a bit, Guidry and I quickly swap sides of the boat to pitch our lines into the bayou.
“I got something,” Guidry says, her rod bending toward the water. “It feels big.”
Guidry fights with the creature for about two minutes, and the rest of us anxiously await the fish’s arrival at the surface. After a few more moments of tugging to no avail, Chauvin snips the line.
“Probably another stingray,” he says. “Those things suck to the bottom and don’t let go.”
With only an hour to go before the 11 a.m. weigh-in, Chauvin suggests hitting one last spot on the west side of the bridge that leads to the Fourchon Beach, but the spot only gives up a mangrove snapper too small to keep.
At the weigh-in, Chauvin unloads the ice chest filled with several speckled trout, including Guidry’s large speck, and word quickly spreads that Guidry’s fish may take first place over GMFITR treasurer John Maurer’s large catch.
Chauvin retrieves Guidry’s fish from the ice, but the lady angler misses the top spot by a hair.
“Maybe next year,” Guidry says as we hug and bid each other adieu until next summer.
– claudette@gumboguide.com
John Chauvin reels in a fish at the jetties near Port Fourchon. The Raceland boat captain guided my crew for the annual Golden Meadow-Fourchon International Tarpon Rodeo media fishing trip.
