We launched at the Rollover Ramp into East Bay in the pre-dawn hours. I was content to just be back on the water after work and family obligations conspired to render me absent for weeks. It was 59 degrees, with a light wind from the East. Water temperature was 70 degrees. The weather forecast called for single digit winds from the south, no clouds and plenty of sun, with a high of 72, and that is just what we got:
We then made it to the mouth of one of my favorite bayou channels, as the good outgoing tide was beginning, coupled with a major solunar feed from 9:15 am to 12:15 pm. Not surprisingly, this is when we got bit. Four trout from 17 to 18 inches came to hand just as the tide began to move around 8:45 am, plucked from a deep hole in the bayou where the water was swirling - chock full of bait from the marsh, I suspect:
After that, I explored an offshoot in the marsh and site-casted to a feeding redfish which came up just a tad short. Here is an action shot, just before my GoPro battery died and shut the camera down:
Strangely, the peak of the solunar provided us with no bites. The wind was now down to 1-3 mph, so we decided to head back into the open bay to hunt for slicks. As we emerged from the mouth of the bayou, Don snapped a rudder cable on his Hobie Outback, and we decided to end the trip early. So we made the two mile trek back east, trolling lures and Don using his paddle as a rudder, arriving at the ramp at 11:30 am, just as a trio of our power-boating brethren arrived. While exchanging pleasantries, they confessed to striking out for the day. I turned my face to hide my smirk, as I silently laughed at their misfortune. As we loaded up the boats and made plans to visit ACK to repair Don’s craft for our next fishing adventure, I felt slightly ashamed at having taken pleasure from the defeat that our fellow anglers suffered at the hands of the feeshies (as Cuervo Jones might say). Perhaps the feeshies were angered by those who power their craft -- not from their own human strength, but from the remains of dead dinosaurs. I pondered that thought as I washed my equipment, while still struggling to fight the shame I felt for laughing at their downfall. But later that night, as my son and I savored the first bite of a succulent trout filet perfectly prepared using Emeril's la mueniere recipe (http://emerils.com/127112/trout-la-meuniere), the shame quickly left me. Onward, men!
(& you assumed we lawyers lie... 
).