Fishing, Treasure and Stars: A Dispatch from Padre Island

The beach was magical.

We arrived Saturday morning, about 8 a.m. Janessa and I drove down to her parent’s house in Beeville Friday after work.

“What time do you want to set the alarm clock?” Janessa asked.

“Six o’clock,” I replied. A few minutes went by. We brushed our teeth.

“What do you think about 5:30?” I asked.

“I want to fish,” she said.

I set it for 5:15 a.m. Now, let me tell you about my father-in-law, John Sample. He loves his coffee in the morning. Mr. Sample worked a lot of long, hard years in the oil patch. So he’s a little slow these days. I’ve spent many nights at his house, but I have never woken up before him. I did just that on Saturday, July 11, in this Year of the Lord, Two-Thousand and Twenty-Six.

We were on our way before six. We drove past the refineries and industrial plants. I always get a chuckle passing exit for Corn Products Rd. I went to Texas A&M for a little while, so I’ve been around engineers. I’m pretty sure an engineer named that road.

We stopped for some gas and a few last-minute pieces of tackle.and some cash from an ATM. Wouldn’t you know it, the first three we went to were “out of service.”

Corpus. It’s too bad we weren’t closer to downtown, because I know the oldest bank in La Grange, National Bank and Trust, recently opened a branch there, and I’m sure they would have taken care of us. But we were trying to hit the water. Oh well.

By 8 a.m., we were at our destination, Padre Island National Seashore with its 60-plus miles of beach.

We drove down about 25 miles without stopping. The driving was terrible between the 20 and 25 mile markers. I thought we might get stuck in the sand a few times. A high bank along the shore prevented us from driving in the wet sand, which usually provides better traction.

But then around the 25 mile marker it cleared up – packed sand from the shore to the dunes. We stopped a couple of times to fish. I caught mostly hardheads and gaftops, but I did hook one good eating-size whiting. I reeled it close and reached into the water to grab it. Just as I did, the fish flopped around and spit the hook out of its mouth. We moved on a little farther.

We set up camp somewhere between 40 and 45 miles down. I recently read about the Wreck of the 300. In 1554, four Spanish ships set sail from Veracruz, Mexico, to Cuba. They encountered a hurricane in the Gulf. One of them escaped the storm. The other three crashed into Padre Island, supposedly 50 miles south of Corpus Christi. That would have put them a few miles north of our campsite.

According to legend, about half to two-thirds of the 300 on board drowned before reaching the beach. A small group of survivors believed there was a Spanish settlement a few miles south of their location. They set out on foot. But unbeknownst to them, the nearest Spanish inhabitants were 300 miles to th south. This band of weary sailors encountered some Karankawa Indians, who were known to practice cannibalism. The natives offered them food and water. But then when night fell, the Karankawas killed and ate the survivors.

What is known about the wreck is that the ships were carrying about one million golden ducat coins. The Spanish launched a salvage mission, which arrived at the island about two months later. The Spanish documented that the salvage workers managed to recover less than half of the gold. I suppose it’s still out there somewhere, buried in the sand. Could some of it have been under our tent? Who knows.

The Corpus Christi radio stations faded out somewhere along the way. We picked up KTEX 100.3 FM out of Mercedes. We were really far south.

With no fish caught, we grilled some chicken that evening on a charcoal fire. The sun went down and the stars came out. I could make out the Milky Way. Over the dunes I saw flashes of lightning from a faraway storm. From the time the sun went down, we didn’t encounter another soul on the beach, at least none we could see. Far in the distance to the north I spotted a flickering light – perhaps another campsite, our nearest neighbors.

I woke before sunrise and baited a hook. Hardheads and gaftops again. We broke camp and headed back north. Around the 30 mile marker I saw a pickup with Breakaway Tackle parked along the surf. It must have been Nick Meyer. If you follow as many fishing channels on YouTube as I do, you probably know about Nick Meyer. He owns Breakaway Tackle in Corpus Christi, and he posts daily beach reports on YouTube. We didn’t stop to chat. But I know if he was fishing, there were probably fish in the water. We stopped a few hundred yards past him.

I noticed we were on a slight point on the beach. We had been chasing green water all weekend. Here, the green line was probably the closest we saw it all weekend.

I had been fishing with cut mullet I caught in a cast net. Janessa tossed out a golden spook and caught a ladyfish, which are premium bait. I cut it into chunks. Janessa and I both waded out about 50 yards and tossed our lines into a cut beyond the first sandbar. No more than I got back to shore, my line went slack. I reeled and brought in a blacktip shark. The struggles of the past day were suddenly behind me. It well over 24 inches, the legal minimum, so I decided to keep it.

Shark meat can get an ammonia scent if you don’t clean them right away. So that’s what I did. While I was filleting it, Janessa hooked something. Another blacktip! Suddenly, we limited out (the limit is one shark per day).

We were getting low on ice and drinks. So we decided to make the long trip back to town. We got back around 5 p.m. We decided to forego another long excursion and wound up staying around the 20 mile marker. We fished and fished. Lots more hardheads and gaftop. We called it a day about an hour before sunset and decided we needed a show. Janessa’s brother has a house on Mathis Lake, about 50 miles from Corpus. So we went there for the night. The shower was amazing.

And then we grilled a couple pieces of shark – very simply with just some olive oil and creole seasoning. I seared it for a minute or two on each side. It’s one of my favorite seafoods.

“It tastes like what swordfish wants to be,” Janessa observed.

I think she’s right. Now I’m back at work, wondering when our next trip will be.

Photo by Janessa Behlen

Photo by Janessa Behlen