When inveterate bassers invade the bays
it's a two-way learning experience
 
By Paul Cañada

Many years ago, I worked alongside an avid saltwater angler, a transfer from Houston to Dallas, named Jim. At that time, I thought Jim and I had very little in common when it came to angling. As far as Jim was concerned, you haven't been fishing until you have pursued redfish on the shallow salt flats. Unfortunately, his insistence left many of his fellow workers-all die-hard bass anglers-puffed-up and ready to slap him silly with their best flippin' stick.

Secretly, of course, I wondered just how good stalking redfish might be and how it compared to bass fishing. After all, Jim sure seemed all lit up about it. I figured if the opportunity ever presented itself, I would give it a try.

Well, opportunity did indeed knock, and I accepted a 2-day trip to the Rockport area. I was on a quest-of sorts-to compare Jim's mighty redfish to my stout and sturdy largemouth.

Lessons Learned-Day One

My first exposure to wade fishing for redfish came when I met up with Rockport guide Elton Hudson this past April. According to Hudson, we were anchored off an extensive flat in the northeast portion of Aransas Bay. However, my orientation was somewhat turned around. All I knew was we weren't in Kansas anymore.

I immediately felt uneasy when I spied my guide slipping into a heavy pair of neoprene waders. My doubts intensified as soon as the lukewarm water filled my light wading shorts. "Why the waders?" I queried.

Hudson responded as if my question gave his memory a jump start. "Oh yeah, you need to shuffle your feet along the bottom. We have more than a few stingrays in this area, and that shuffle and slide will hopefully spook the ray before you're on top of him."

Great! I tried to imagine how a large stingray, the kind Jacques Cousteau rode in the '70s, could get in 18 to 24 inches of water. There's no way I would step on something that obvious. Still, I lift and slide, lift and slide, just as my teacher instructed. Watching Hudson boldly wade out ahead of me, I remember feeling naked in my wading shorts and light-weight booties.

With a flip of his wrist, Hudson's baitcast outfit-designed for bass fishing, I might add-cast his Excalibur Super Spook a country mile. Not wanting to be outdone, I whipped my MirrOlure Top Gun as hard as I could. My effort easily out-distanced Hudson's puny cast.

I waited and waited, but my lure never hit the water-it just kept going, and going, and going. I whipped the bait so hard that it snapped my 10-pound-test line. "That," I informed Hudson, "was my one and only Top Dog."

No bother; I simply reached into my little pouch and rummaged through a mess of lures. Hudson let out a big sigh. "What?" I asked. "What did I do now?"

My guide kindly explained, "You might not want to drop that reel in the water like that. This saltwater is pretty hard on equipment. In fact, you might want to rinse it real good tonight. What you need," he announced, "is a wading belt."

Puzzled,I asked "What's a wading belt?" I was then introduced to what looked like something the Tim "The Tool Man" Taylor would wear. It had a little box for my lures, a place for the all important pliers, a place for my stringer and a holster for my rod.

The only thing missing was a coffee maker.