Poppers Got A Brand New Bag

Now for something entirely different-

Muggy and overcast and pretty darn windy at Crawfish Pond across the road from the new Hagerman Visitor's Center.  After a long run, my pooped-out pup and I took the Sage Smallmouth out for a spin.  Aside from the usual stunted sunnies, this little jewel sucked in a black popping bug, and hooked himself well enough to allow for a quick photo op.  I had seen him cruising the weedline with some of his brothers, and took a shot at him just for the halibut.  In forty-five years of flyfishing, this is the first time I've ever taken a whiskered fish on top.  Nymphs, yes.  Streamers-quite a few.  But a popper-this was unique.  A few casts later, I scooped up another one-only not quite as large.  (read that-about four inches) I'm guessing the Fish and Wildlife may have stocked a few in the ponds in preparation for the kid's fishing day later in May.

Down the San Marcos-with Marcus

 Ahhhhh-the Hill Country.  I have wondered aloud why every body doesn't live in the Hill Country.  More and more, though, nearly every body does.  To experience the beauty of the region you've got to get away from the crowds.  That means you either have access to a high fenced ranch, or you take a worthy craft and paddle down one of the gems of the Hill Country.  On this date, I had arranged to float the San Marcos with expert guide and canoeist Marcus.  I had fished with Marcus before, and had found him to be as pleasant, competent, and capable as a guy could be.  Seems he knew every tree, every plant, every fish, and every snake (including the little copperhead that I damn near stepped on-and Marcus probably did step on- at lunch.)  He knew where the fish would be, suggested areas to cast, flies to use, and styles of retrival.  Most importantly, he didn't complain when he had to rescue flies from tree tops, and didn't laugh at my sometimes competent casting. All in all, I had a great day, and I hope he did, too.

Up stream and downstream from the launching area.

If you find the sign that says Caldwell on one side and Guadalupe on the other, you'll be there.

First, you have to paddle under the bridge and navigate this dam.  This is Alvin, another well-known Hill Country fly fishing guide, deadlining his raft down a steep staircase.

One of the reasons for choosing the San Marcos, aside from the fact that it still has flowing water, was its' reputation as a fine spot to catch a Rio Grande Perch-this was my first ever, and I was able to scratch off another item from my bucket list.

Lots and lots of bass of various genetic makeup.  A few probably pure largemouth, lots of guadalupe-smallmouth hybrids, and a few that appeared to be spotted bass.  Who knows-certainly not me.

Hero shot of Marcus-he is my hero, after all.  He even tied a blood knot for me.

At the takeout.  He doesn't look like a guy who got up at five, drove for an hour, picked up his client, paddled nine miles, caught fish, tied knots, told stories, gave advice, cooked lunch, dodged a copperhead, took pictures, and showed me a grand time.  Thanks Marcus, for another great day.

www.guidesoftexas.com

Down the San Marcos-with Marcos

 Ahhhhh-the Hill Country.  I have wondered aloud why every body doesn't live in the Hill Country.  More and more, though, nearly every body does.  To experience the beauty of the region you've got to get away from the crowds.  That means you either have access to a high fenced ranch, or you take a worthy craft and paddle down one of the gems of the Hill Country.  On this date, I had arranged to float the San Marcos with expert guide and canoeist Marcos.  I had fished with Marcos before, and had found him to be as pleasant, competent, and capable as a guy could be.  Seems he knew every tree, every plant, every fish, and every snake (including the little copperhead that I damn near stepped on-and Marcos probably did step on- at lunch.)  He knew where the fish would be, suggested areas to cast, flies to use, and styles of retrival.  Most importantly, he didn't complain when he had to rescue flies from tree tops, and didn't laugh at my sometimes competent casting. All in all, I had a great day, and I hope he did, too.

Up stream and downstream from the launching area.

If you find the sign that says Caldwell on one sign and Guadalupe on the other, you'll be there.

First, you have to paddle under the bridge and navigate this dam.  This is Alvin, another well-known Hill Country fly fishing guide, deadlining his raft down a steep staircase.

One of the reasons for choosing the San Marcos, aside from the fact that it still has flowing water, was its' reputation as a fine spot to catch a Rio Grande Perch-this was my first ever, and I was able to scratch off another item from my bucket list.

Lots and lots of bass of various genetic makeup.  A few probably pure largemouth, lots of guadalupe-smallmouth hybrids, and a few that appeared to be spotted bass.  Who knows-certainly not me.

Hero shot of Marcos-he is my hero, after all.  He even tied a blood knot for me.

At the takeout.  He doesn't look like a guy who got up at five, drove for an hour, picked up his client, paddled nine miles, caught fish, tied knots, told stories, gave advice, cooked lunch, dodged a copperhead, took pictures, and showed me a grand time.  Thanks Marcos, for another great day.

www.guidesoftexas.com