Sunday, May 6, 2001

Welcome to the Jungle

David Sikes/Caller-Times

Bass-fishing brothers Johnny and Tommy Harrison long ago decided that pitching and rolling into Lake Texana’s far reaches was worth the risk, not to mention the wear and tear on their boat.

GANADO - Even frequent motorists passing over the Navidad River near Ganado don't know what to expect from the waters below.
   At times, the view is a postcard of sun-bleached hardwoods reflected on still black waters, fit for the cover of "Field & Stream." Then a couple of months ago, jagged stumps rose from mudflats like three-day-old stubble on an old man's face. And in summer, you'll swear there is a meadow below, carpeted with green hyacinth thick enough for cattle to graze.
   That's the changing face of Lake Texana.
   The face that greeted me a couple of weeks ago was a cross between the postcard and the pasture. But it was plenty bassy for my two fishing partners, the Harrison brothers, Johnny and Tommy, of Coleto Creek fame.
   It was the Monday after Easter, but the weather was anything but spring-like, a virtually windless day with a midday temperature above 80 degrees. The water at the boat ramp was chocolate. But we wouldn't be fishing in that.
   We were headed where few anglers dare.
   Taming the waters
   Even men who have navigated Lake Texana for 20 years have trouble negotiating the submerged stumps that rock and squeak against the hull of a slow slithering bass boat. The ride resembles the Jungle Cruise at Disneyland. Without the hippos. That the Harrison brothers refer to Texana's most productive fishing waters as "The Jungle" is coincidental.
   Tommy never revved above idle. But still, the commute to fishable waters was a short one.
   We would be fishing the north end of the lake, above the Navidad River Bridge, which crosses U.S. Highway 59. Fishing for black bass generally picks up after spring rains have emptied enough water into the lake to draw fish out of the river and creek channels and into the flats.
   Living up to its name
   That's not to say that fishing these deepwater spots isn't productive at other times. The reservoir holds crappie, catfish, white bass, gaspergou and bluegill. The lake record flathead was 48 pounds, caught in 1999.
   But even though this 11,000-acre reservoir impounded in 1980 is not a high-profile lake, local anglers believe in its potential.
   Slinging spinnerbaits and weightless soft plastics at stumps, trunks and against hyacinth banks is what bass anglers live for. It's a casting game with rewards only for the most accurate lure slingers.
   The Harrison brothers wasted no time in defining the game by example. They boated and released five fish in the one-to three-pound range before I was reacquainted with my seldom-used bass reel.
   I hate braided line. But you never know when you'll need its strength and durability.
   Lake Texana is what anglers refer to as a bass factory. The abundance of vegetation (mostly hyacinth, hydrilla, parrot feather and American lotus) protects young bass from predators until they're big enough to feed on smaller fish, crawfish and frogs that coexist in the vegetation.
   Double-digit largemouths, though rare, swim these waters.
   Trolling along the hyacinth, which eventually will cover most of the lake this summer, the Jungle earned its label for me. Deer, snakes and turtles abound. And between the bumps and grinds of stumps scraping fiberglass were the hollow groans of alligators, seen and unseen. The eerie mating calls vibrate the water like a pair of Rockford Fosgate subwoofers.
   The sights and sounds set a primal mood.
   The one that got away
   It soon became apparent that the Harrison boys could fling a homemade spinnerbait with pinpoint accuracy at each inlet and digit of floating greenery. Or perhaps it was me who made them look good by contrast.
   There was no illusion, however, in the fact that they landed about a dozen fish to my two misses within the first hour.
   Later, we switched to watermelon green Super Flukes, rigged weightless and weedless. We caught nearly twice as many fish this way. I'd never fished soft plastics without lead. And I wasn't about to try with braided line.
   Fifteen-pound test monofilament on a Curado would have to do.
   I caught the best fish of the day, about a 4½ pounder, thanks to a stiff rod, an aggressive retrieve and a little luck. Unfortunately, Johnny Harrison's petty jealousy gave him slippery fingers. So I have no photographic proof of my feat.
   After a while, we noticed that if we could lay a Super Fluke near a fresh surface swirl, almost invariably an aggressive strike would follow. It worked so well that my partners began to call their shots with regularity. It worked for me once.
   Then Johnny noticed I was abandoning my retrieves prematurely. In other words, I was reeling quickly when my lure got about 30 feet from the boat, as if I didn't expect a fish to strike so near.
   Johnny and Tommy explained that because of the lake's excellent cover, bass sometimes attack a lure right at the boat. As Johnny attempted to recreate a scenario by which he caught a tournament-winning largemouth practically under their boat, a small bass rose from the shadows a foot from the gunwale and sucked in his lure.
   I was impressed. So were the Harrisons.
   Deeper and deeper
   For most of the morning, we skirted the hyacinth apron that clung to the lake's bank. But at noon, Tommy decided it was time to forge more deeply into The Jungle. This appeared impossible.
   "That's what most people think," Tommy said.
   "But they're missing out," Johnny completed his brother's thought.
   Islands of bass-holding water, like holes torn into a hyacinth blanket, await the adventurous angler with a powerful trolling motor and a backup battery.
   What a racket we made, cutting through the tangled mat of leaves, stems and roots. Between the boat colliding with stumps, the sputtering blades of the electric motor slapping the surface and the sky-flung vegetation, I spoke up.
   "So much for this spot," I said, dodging foliage. "Any fish that were here are long gone by now."
   "Nuh-uhh," the brothers chimed in unison. "These fish are so well hidden they stay put no matter what. You'll see."
   Johnny's first cast proved his point.
   For a final trick, each sibling flung a fluke into a faraway opening in the hyacinth. Before the splash of their lures, they promised a bass each.
   I wouldn't have mentioned this if they had failed.