Norman Shelter had been after me to take him fishing to a new hotspot that my barber had shown me, the spot was called the tripod and was near where the San Barnard River and the Intercoastal Waterway, or Intercoastal, as we called it, crossed. The Brazos River flows into the Gulf at Freeport, while the San Barnard enters ten miles to the west. The tripod was a small cut off the Intercoastal, that led into an unnamed little bay with a gas well in the middle. The apparatus on the well was tripod shaped, hence the name.

Our fishing target was a reef on the west side of the cut leading into the little bay. The gas well wasn’t a problem, but once or twice a week an inspector came out and checked it and the fishing stopped for about a half hour until after he left. We would anchor in the middle of the cut, cast toward the mid point in the opposite bank and let our rigs drift to our left on the incoming tide. We fished about 18, inches deep and when your cork stopped drifting and appeared to be hung up, you set the hook and held on.

Saturdays and some afternoons when the tide was right, or we had been blown out of our regular bay or jetty spots, my Dad and I would head to the tripod and consistently caught fish. One trip I caught 2, flounder, both over 8 pounds, huge ones, and another trip we caught several 6 and 7 pound reds. The trout were never over 2 pounds and it’s funny, we never saw another boat at our spot. I often wondered why?

A beautiful spring morning found Norman, Tony Welsh, a neighbor of mine and I heading toward the tripod. We pulled up, anchored and cast our rigs out and, until the tide changed, enjoyed a morning of good fishing. We iced down over 20 flounder, 5 reds and 10 specs and the 88 quart, cooler was full when we loaded the boat on the trailer and began the, slightly over one hour, drive back to southwest Houston.

We were about to cross the railroad tracks at Post Oak and Highway 90A when I noticed the car was acting sluggish. Turning the corner, Norman glanced back toward the boat and trailer and told me, “Jon, looks like a bearing has gone out on the trailer!” Pulling over, sure enough, we had lost the trailer’s right wheel bearing. We were stuck!

Across the highway was a truck stop, so we “creeped” over and asked for the manager, (we had been well trained, always call at the top). Explaining our plight, I distinctly remember his reply, “What kind of fish are in the cooler?” “Flounder, specs and reds,” I replied. “How many flounder,” he asked? My reply of 20 sealed the deal. He told us “Boys, I’ll fix the bearing right now for the flounders.” Not a good deal for us, frankly highway robbery, but we got home OK and the following Monday saw me install bearing buddies on the trailer.

Several years later I made my last trip to the tripod and as we motored west on the Intercoastal, approximately 3 miles west of the San Bernard River, we started looking to our left for the channel leading to our old spot. Not there. We came about and began searching back toward the river and it still wasn’t there.

Motoring all the way to Carancuha Bay, five or six miles, still no channel. All we saw was an extra wide spot on the south side of the Intercoastal. We came about again and motored to the bait camp where the river and Intercoastal crossed. Asking the owner, “Where’s that little cut, that channel leading back to the gas rig, the tripod?” “Not there,” he answered. “A while back, that gas well blew up and rearranged everything. We call it the Blow Out Hole now. Good fishing in the winter”

Now I found out why we never saw another boat in our spot!

Taking the 2, plus hour drive from southwest Houston down to the coast, we, my dad and Dub Middleton and me, met my uncle, G.A. “Unkie” Pyland and his son George at the specified bait camp in Port O’Conner, Texas.  It was still dark and we’d have a 20, minute boat ride to our destination, a place Unkie called the fish trap.

With the tide coming in all morning, we cranked up our boats and headed down Matagorda Bay towards Pass Cavallo, the fish trap was located just north of the pass, with a small channel leading into a hundred acre lake, the trap.  Arriving, we anchored the boats, jumped into the water and started casting, our lures of choice were silver spoons with a treble hook, with a pink attractor attached to the hook.  Each of us was using a black reel, with a 7, foot, popping rod.

Bump, bump, “Fish on”, I yelled out, as the rod bent with the strike, soon, not using a net, I grabbed the small red, not big enough to keep, behind the gills, unhooked and released it.  First fish of the day, but soon we were all catching small reds and if we’d kept them all, we’d had a good mess!  The small reds finally quit hitting and we remarked that funny, no big reds and no specs either.

After almost 2 hours of this fun, Dad, Dub and I told Unkie and George that we were going to try our hand in Espiritu Santo Bay and see if any birds were working, knowing that early April was a little bit soon for bird action.  We pulled the anchor, and since Unkie and George were still fishing, we crept out of the fish trap and once in Matagorda Bay, headed north.  Rather then going all the way back to Port O’Conner, we took a short cut into Espiritu Santo, a small pass that led into the east end of the bay.

Not 2 miles into the bay, we saw a bunch of birds hovering over the water, a sign that something had driven the shrimp to the surface.  After changing to do nothing, slow sinking lures, we coasted up to within casting distance of the birds and Dub was the first to let fly and he immediately had a hard hit.  What was it, spec, gafftop cat or lady fish, but circling the boat the fish soon identified itself as a nice trout and when we netted it, a 3 pounder.

Dad and I cast out below the birds and both had hard strikes that proved to be identical fish to Dubs.  The birds would break up and 5 minutes later, here came the shrimp back up to the top, we could see them hopping about evading the specs below, but the birds would converge on the hapless shrimp and what the specs missed, the birds would get.

We stayed with this school of fish for almost 30 minutes and boxed a dozen then they quit.  For a while we stayed around, but we noticed the tide had changed and was going out, probably the reasons for the fish’s lockjaw.  No more bird schools that day and we headed home around noon.  It was a fun trip and we caught 12 nice specs, along with a lot of small reds.

The fish trap is no more because several years later a hurricane rearranged the coastal area around Pass Cavallo!

The spring had been unseasonably warm, Gulf currents had arrived early and raised the water temperatures to over 72 degrees and with the warm water came the pelagic species of fish—kingfish, Spanish mackerel and cobia (Ling). Since the past season I had been promising Suzanne, my daughter, and Mike, my son-in-law, an offshore fishing trip. Mike brought along one of his, and our, friends, Dick Reilley. The timing was good for all of us, so we picked a Friday in early April to try and get out and catch some big kings. Just out from the beachfront the big ones come in first to spawn in the shallow water and they were our targets for the day.

After last night’s big storm, heavy clouds hung low over the water, but 7 miles out there was no wind blowing as we rounded the end of the south jetty and headed for my favorite spot on the Gulf side of the rocks. Since the tide was going out, the water on the Gulf side was moving toward the beach and as we anchored, I noticed small fish hanging close to the rocks, a real good sign!

Our tackle for the day was 7, foot popping rods, black Ambassaduer reels loaded with 15, pound line and because of the kings and smaller mackerel, a 2, foot fine, wire leader with a circle hook, weighted with a “OO” buckshot. Our bait for the day was live shrimp and baiting up we cast our rigs out toward the rocks to drift with the current. Right away Dick got hung on a rock and had to break off and while he was re-rigging Mike had a big strike and was fast into a nice red fish. If the conditions are right this spot will always pay off!

The action was fast and furious, no kings, but specs and reds, along with several Spanish mackerel, very good eating when filleted with the blood line cut out and 2, big sheesphead, 4 pounders that are top table fare, when I heard a “Hmmpf” from Suzanne and saw her rod nearly bent double. Maybe this was the big king? The big fish moved down the rocks to our right, then out to sea, as Suz held her rod tip high and hung on. Stopping its run, she regained most of the line and as the fish wallowed around the boat, we identified it as a big red and soon we boated a very nice 28, incher that she had battled perfectly. For a day that was “iffy”, we now had nice mess of fish and our big cooler was close to one 1/2 full, so as the tide changed, we headed back to the yacht basin, 4 grubby, stinky, fisher persons with a box of fish to clean!

This particular day, we were the only boat that had gone out, so as we loaded the boat on to the trailer, we drew a nice crowd of onlookers who, when we got the cooler down and opened it, appropriately “oohed and aaahd” over our catch. Mike, Dick and I were kidding around, chewing tobacco and spitting, and cleaning the fish when a well to do appearing lady came up to Suz and asked her, “Did you catch some of these fish?” and Suz replied, “Yes Mam, I caught the big red.” The lady replied “Good for you!”

We finished cleaning the fish, iced them down, then as Dick and I were lifting the big cooler up to Mike, he leaned over to grab it and, by accident (?) belched. We paid no attention and just kept loading the heavy cooler. The well to do lady turned to Suz and asked her, “Young lady, just who are those men?” Suzanne replied, “The big guy over there with gray hair is my dad and the big guy in the boat is my brother-in-law and the other big guy is Dick, a friend.” “Well, they’re gross and ungentlemanly,” the well to do lady said as she turned and hurried off!

Suzanne has been fishing with me since she was eleven years old. She can bait her own hook, cast the bait out, land the fish with a net and take the hook out, all of this even though she is a former student at Texas A & M University.