Landfall

Wednesday dawned calm and bright, but the first stirrings of that friendly – and until late August, likely persistent – southeasterly were not far away.

Before Dean Thomas and I had left the shore, Ken Larson landed his first trout at the edge of the Intracoastal, just off our campsite. We landed two more before paddling in earnest up the western shoreline of the bay.

Today’s agenda: cover about a dozen miles and reach Capt. Bruce and Shirley Shuler’s Getaway Adventures Lodge in time for happy hour. With an early start and a tailwind, that still left time for fishing.

I got just one more shot, a late morning redfish foraging in the turtle grass on a shallow flat. I spotted the fish about 10 feet off my port bow and stopped paddling as I reached for my rod.

Momentum carried me past the redfish, and I turned to cast over my shoulder. The soft plastic lure landed just beyond the grass bed, and I saw a swirl as the redfish lunged. Then my line came tight. A 26-inch redfish is entirely capable of towing a 16-foot kayak.

Kinda makes you think, doesn’t it?

After Dean snapped a few quick shots, we released the fish and continued north at a steady pace. Before long, the Port Mansfield water tower crept into view. We stopped once to stretch our legs, then continued on in what had become choppy bay waters.

Just after 3 p.m., we turned left around the levee and paddled into the protected waters of the harbor. The lodge was clearly visible ahead of us on the right, but so was the Port Mansfield Marina, where I suspected we might be able to grab a cold beer or two.

We tied-up in front of the gas pumps on the seawall and were greeted by friends from the TexasKayakFisherman message board. They had been following the pre-trip discussions, and knew we had launched from South Padre Island Monday.

I was abashed to see that they were genuinely surprised we’d made it.

At Getaway Adventures Lodge, Bruce helped steady the boats as we climbed out and relished the notion of cold showers and soft beds. After dragging the boats across the rip-rap and onto the lawn, we sprayed-down rods and reels and sat down to swap stories.

Capt. Brandon Shuler, Bruce’s son and a fine fishing guide in his own right, swung by to say hello. “Man … my dog smells better than you guys,” he quipped. “Looks better, too.”

Landfall, I know from my sailing days, always brings with it a sense of accomplishment. To climb into a boat – several very small boats, in this case – and arrive some days later at a destination over the horizon is one of life’s great joys.

In our shakedown leg of the TSJ Kayak Safari, we covered exactly 45 miles of water, all under paddle power. We put a bit more than 37 of those miles behind us in three days of paddling without any outside support.

I was happy to find that my mileage estimates were pretty close to what we could comfortably accomplish in a day and still have some time to fish. We packed most of the right stuff, and enough of it.

With some help from my friends, I even made some good decisions that did not come easily to me. I know from past experience – and from TPWD sampling data – that the Lower Laguna Madre is truly a world-class fishery. In our first leg of the kayak journey, it disappointed.

Fishing was tough. Catching was rare. But we still have miles to cover, and some of the best redfish and trout waters still lie to the north of us.

In April, we’ll return to Port Mansfield and launch our kayaks from Bruce’s dock. From there, we’ll paddle up the Laguna Madre and through the Land Cut, ducking over into a large, shallow bay known as the “Graveyard” for the last stretch to Yarborough Pass on the back side of Padre Island National Seashore.

It’s about 50 miles, and we hope to cover it in four days of paddling. If all goes according to plan, my brother and other friends will meet us in four-wheel-drive trucks and we’ll return to civilization for another working break before continuing the journey.

RobRoy McDonald, associate editor of Texas Sporting Journal, told me he’s “giddy to gear up” for the next leg of the trip. I had supposed that, after 10 days on the road and on the water, I’d be just plain whupped and wouldn’t even want to think about returning … not for a couple of weeks, anyhow.

But I find that I’m ready to giddy-up and go myself. It’s just that much fun.