by Nate Skinner
Lydia Ann’s
Red Hot Summer
T
he amount of redfish in front of me was unbelievable.
It was as if they knew they were being stalked, but didn’t
care, putting on a show as they dipped, darted, and rolled
in the skinny water. Amongst the sea grass, their bronze backs
shimmered like polished copper plating, and they were fat, too.
Having just left the marsh with a strong, falling tide, their bellies
were chock full of shrimp, mullet, and crabs, yet, they were
still eating as they prepared for their migration to
the Gulf.
With each step, another bronze torpedo would
zip through the flat, leaving a trailing cloud of sand
particles suspended in the water. I continued to focus
my efforts on sight casting with no success. Having
literally gone through every lure in my wading box,
I decided I needed a different approach. Smaller
schools of upper slots were surfacing every so often
in the deeper water on the edge of the channel to my
right. I flung my jig in their direction away from the
masses of fish I was seeing that seemed to have
lockjaw.
Twitch, reel… Twitch, twitch. Thump! And the
fight was on. Line peeled quickly and often, as the
brute used the deeper water and current to its
advantage, making several runs before tiring. The
brilliance of bronze and copper rays radiating from
the red’s back completed the picture of this beautiful
scene. For a moment, all seemed right in the world
as the sun rose high over a flat teeming with quality
fish. Perhaps more special was the picturesque scene
as one of Texas’ most historical markers along the Coastal Bend
cast a shadow over the waters of the Lydia Ann Channel. Who
says lighthouses are a fading memory of the past?
Stretching