Adventure Files: Falcon Lake, Port Isabel, & Some Advice on Hooking Yourself

Earlier this week, I watched and episode of Kayak Bassin on YouTube where the Host, Chad Hoover used a pair of pliers to bury a treble hook in his thigh in order to demonstrate a hook removal technique. Check out the clip on the right.

This reminded me of a couple trips I took with my brother, Chuck.  The last of which was in 1989.  This was my "Happy Graduation" fishing trip to Falcon Lake.  He had taken me there once before when I was still in middle school and he was in college. 

On the first trip, we fished from an old wooden ski boat that Chuck converted to a bass boat by decking over the 2 bench seats that ran across the boat and served as a rib of sorts (I'm sure there is a marine term for this) for a rear deck.  He added a cooler that was hemmed in by 2x4's fastened to the decking and strapped down.  This would be our fish box.   

The boat probably looked something
like this at some point during it's life.
Photo: Pinterest

The bow of this boat was was nothing but a wood top that probably held a windshield and horns or something at some point, but was long gone by now.  It was now outfitted with a foot controlled trolling motor and a pedestal seat to fish from. A pedestal seat in the rear and a Lowrance dial type depthfinder finished off the early eighties fishing package the vessel had forced upon it in an attempt to convert it to a bass boat.  That gives new meaning to "fish 'n ski".  As I saw my friend Tod Johnson comment on a Facebook post the other day, "Whole lot of redneckery went into that there vessel..."  I can't think of a better way to say it!  (Tod you may have just coined a phrase... I know I'm stealing it.)

When we got there the first day, we fished the late afternoon and slept in the truck at the boat ramp.  Can you imagine doing that at Falcon Lake today... No thanks! (Not even I want to fish that bad.) When we woke up at day break, we headed to the boat which we had beached near the ramp and tied off the night before.  The boat was surrounded by what had to be 50-100 Water Moccasins.  They were all swimming around and striking at the boat.  It was one of the weirdest things I have ever seen.  To this day, I have no idea what that was all about.  They weren't there when we beached and tied off, that's for sure.  Just weird! 

We fished the morning and went back to the boat ramp and checked into a little motel at lunch time.  Then we headed out to fish the evening again.  We did well that trip.  This is where I began learning about points and structure and I remember seeing schools of White Bass erupting on the surface.  We fished our points and structure and chased schooling White Bass for a couple days.  I remember an old woman bank fishing with a tandem rig pulling in two fish at a time from those schools.  

A stringer of fish caught in the old wood boat.
Photo: Chuck Crowsey

As I was learning to fish a Texas rigged worm offshore in some deeper water, Chuck got a backlash and he
was doing his best to keep the boat in position and work out that backlash.  Being about 12 years old at the time, I had no idea what I was doing fishing a hump or something below the surface I couldn't see.  I just began casting and reeling and my "squirrel moments" were serving to do nothing but further frustrate Chuck who was already a little edgy from dealing with his backlash.  He kept telling me to fish "over there" and pointed to a spot in what seemed like the middle of the ocean.  As I looked out at a featureless body of water where there was nothing different within casting distance, I made a few more casts back where he told me to again.  A few "squirrel moments" later I was casting off the back of the boat again when I got a bite. I reeled this one in and it turned out to be a 4 or 5 lber.  The best fish of the trip so far.  We were about to head in for lunch, but Chuck had a renewed interest in catching fish now, so we stayed out a few more hours.

At some point, we went to Harlingen, TX to visit my brother's dad.  After a day of working on the motor, we took that old boat out to the causeway at Port Isabel at night.  I remember taking several trips to the coast and fishing with my family over the years.  I don't think I ever caught anything other than Hard Heads.  This trip must have been when I caught my first speck.  We got into them pretty good that night.  I remember catching a small fish of some sort, I left it hooked and threw it back out.  Neither Chuck nor I can remember how big it was, but it was another big fish.  I remember somebody caught a big ray too.

On the second trip, we did much of the same as it was the same time of year.  We had a much better boat this time as we were in a new Champion bass boat. A beautiful red and silver glitter rocket with a big motor.  I remember my brother saying "Tomorrow we'll go check out the other side of the lake.  The Mexico side."  As I had just graduated from high school and one of my second semester senior year "blow off" classes was Wildlife Management, I asked "Do we have a reciprocal license agreement with Mexico?"  His answer was "No, but we have a boat that will do 70."

We were pounding points and such with a fire tiger crankbait when I snagged a tree.  I started popping my line trying to knock it off.  It finally came shooting back at me like a rocket.  I stood up as high as I could and did my best imitation of a ballerina on her toes while also trying to spread my legs to let the projectile get through when it caught me.  As this was during the eighties and I was wearing my football shorts (much shorter than today's shorts, it got me about 3" below the crotch on the inside of my right thigh. An experience I would never forget.

The treble hook penetrated in and out without getting a whole lot of meat.  I looked at chuck who was otherwise occupied and said "Uhhhh, Chuck, I have a little problem here.  Do you have any wire cutters?"  He looked over and said "No, just rip it out!" and went back to doing what he was doing.  I think he was tying a knot or getting the boat back in position, but I knew he couldn't just drop what he was doing.  I thought about this for a moment and thought there had to be a better solution. I looked around and couldn't find anything to cut the hook.  My best chance was a pair of clippers, but I knew that wasn't likely to work.  

I decided that IF I was going to rip this lure out of my leg, I had better do it soon while it was still pretty numb from hitting me.  I gathered up the line and in my left hand and yanked.  Chuck didn't see me do this and to this day probably thinks I just gave it a little tug.  I assure you, I pulled hard and all it did was stretch my skin by about 6 inches.  At this point, Chuck was saying "Here, let me do it!"  My brother and I have never fought, but I assure you, there was no way he was going to get hold of that line at this point.  

Shortly after that, I looked down at the clippers again thinking about trying to cut the hook again.  I tried and all it did was scratch the surface.  Then I had a thought... I used the clippers to bend the barb down flush with the hook and backed it out.  This was the end of this ordeal, but I was a little tender in that spot for awhile.  

The rest of the trip went well. We caught fish and had a great time, though we did have a tire problem on the way home.  To this day, I won't set foot in a boat without a tool that will cut a hook.  The video above is a great technique for a hook embedded past the barb, but not in and out. Don't leave home without your wire cutters.

Interestingly, these two trips along with a few hunting trips when I was the same age probably set in motion this incredible journey I have taken in the outdoors.  I am lucky to say that it continues today. There is not a day that goes by that I don't think about killing and grilling my dinner.