Beyond the Garden And to the Beach
Thank you to all of you who read this column faithfully every week. I’m amazed at all of the folks who recognize me when I’m out and about and strike up a conversation about gardening.
I’ve met a few folks who enjoy reading my column but don’t actually garden themselves. So I’ve decided to start writing about a few other topics - travel, cooking, farm projects, hunting and fishing, keeping my ‘88 Jeep running, and the other things I do when I’m not at work.
I plan to keep focus on gardening. But it’s hot right now. Plant some okra. Get some beds ready for the fall. But do that work in the early morning or late evening, and stay out of this heat. Unless you want to spend a few days on the beach, like Janessa and I did the past two weekends.
For some reason, when I plan a trip with my good hunting and fishing buddy, Levi Surman, I remember the date wrong and think it’s a week earlier than what we planned. I’ve done this two times in a row now. We lined out a weekend trip with our wives to camp and fish on Padre Island National Seashore outside Corpus Christi. So two weeks ago, I called him on a Thursday to go over our plans for the trip.
“Naw, bud, we’re going next weekend,” he tells me.
Sure enough, I look through my text messages, and he’s right. In the meantime, Janessa and I had already packed her truck for the trip. She has to travel to South Texas a few days every week for her job, and she planned to be there later that week so we could meet up down there, and then stay down there for work early the next week.
It was Thursday evening. She was there and already arranged her work schedule. I sucked it up and made the call.
“Baby, I did it again and got the date wrong,” I told her. “But before you get mad, stay there and let’s go check it out this weekend and do it again next weekend with Levi and Tiffany.”
She wasn’t really happy about it at first, but that’s what we did.
Padre Island National Seashore (PINS) is one of Texas’ great treasures. You can drive down it about 60 miles from the beach entrance to the Mansfield Cut, a channel that was dredged through the island in 1957 to connect Port Mansfield to the Gulf of Mexico.
There is no cell phone service there. Mile markers are posted on the dunes every five miles. At the first one, mile marker 5, stands another sign warning people without four wheel drive to turn around. Even at that spot, the “path” can be quite sketchy.
That first night, Janessa and I camped a little past mile marker 10. We grilled some pork chops under a blanket of stars. A thin crescent moon hung low on the horizon just above dune line on the beach, with Venus hovering nearby. The next day, we packed up camp and tried exploring the beach farther south. A fellow southbound traveler had a little trouble. He was driving one of those Dodge diesel trucks with a lift kit and big tires. I noticed him fading behind me. I turned around to see what the problem was, and by the time I got there, he had popped his hood. The big truck started running hot in a long patch of sugar sand.
To all you good ol’ boys with those jacked up diesels: those rigs ain’t gonna cut it at PINS. Well, you will cut some ruts, but you ain’t gonna make it too far.
Lesson #1: make sure to bring a tow strap.
I didn’t fish really hard that first weekend. We mostly explored, looked for big shells and swam in the ocean. I did catch a giant mullet, probably 14 inches long, with my cast net at one point. So I rigged up my big rod with a shark hook, steel leader and a heavy weight. I waded out to the second sand bar and chunked it as far as I could.
After about an hour staring at my rod, I reeled it in to see if the bait was still there. Something with sharp teeth ate about half of it but left the other half hanging on the hook. Janessa didn’t want to swim much after that.
We left Sunday morning looking forward to the next weekend with our friends. The week seemed like it dragged on forever. Finally the weekend arrived. Janessa and I met Levi and Tif at the park entrance around 5 p.m. on Friday.
This time, we drove down about 25 miles the first night. They call this section of Padre Island “Big Shell Beach.” It runs between mile 17 to 28. As the name implies, you can find lots of shells on this stretch of beach. From what I understand, however, beachcombers can actually find the biggest shells a little farther south.
We set up camp and I grilled some fajitas. Levi got to work setting up some rod holders in the sand. After supper, he and I fished a little, but we didn’t catch anything. We left a trash bag tied up to a tailgate that night. The next morning, I found our trash scattered all around the camp. A pair of coyote tracks gave away the culprit. I also noticed a snake track in the sand near our camp, which I didn’t mention to the ladies.
Lesson #2: Secure the garbage.
The next morning, we got up early. I made some coffee, bacon and eggs on the campfire. Levi threw out the cast net a few times and caught some bait – a ladyfish that we used for cutbait and several croakers. We rigged up a few lines and threw them out.
Levi caught some sand trout and we kept the biggest one. Most people catch and release sand trout, but I think they taste delicious. Unlike their more popular cousin, the spotted seatrout, sand trout have a reputation for not keeping and freezing very well. But if you clean and eat them the same day you catch them, sand trout are delicious. We made ceviche out of it with some of the leftover pico de gallo from our fajitas the night before.
Here’s a simple recipe for the beach:
¼ of a 14 oz. tub of H-E-B Hot Pico de Gallo (re-use the container)
2 fillets of sand trout
1 lemon, juiced
Salt and pepper to taste
Dice the sand trout fillets into quarter-to-half inch cubes. Add the diced fish and lemon juice to the pico de gallo and mix. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Keep on ice for about an hour, then eat with saltine crackers.
The beautiful thing about preparing this dish at the beach is that you don’t need a bowl or container from home. Just mix it in the tub that the pico de gallo came in from the store.
Lesson #3: Sand trout taste good, keep a few for supper.
Later that morning, we started noticing dozens, maybe hundred of birds working the water about 300 yards from the shore. That usually means there’s some kind of fish action going on under water. Levi left his kayak at home, and the water was too rough to wade that far. With a kayak and a reel with enough line, we could have reached them on a calmer day. But the waves were pretty rough last weekend. I wouldn’t paddle through those whitecaps. We settled for fishing closer to shore.
Levi and I caught blacktip sharks within a few minutes of each other. Both of them were small keepers, around 27 inches.
The fish seemed to stop biting that afternoon. We all took naps and then swam a bit before cooking supper. Levi brought along some bacon wrapped quail and shrimp-stuffed jalapenos that he picked up at Freedman’s in La Grange. I grilled them on charcoal, and man, they were good. I highly recommend both if you haven’t tried.
We also filleted and grilled one of the sharks. I shook a little Cajun seasoning on them. I forgot to bring along oil, but the grill was well-oiled from the bacon-wrapped goodies. I seared the fillets for a minute or two on each side.
I felt sorry for the poor folks that night.