I had looked at my calendar, noted some upcoming conflicts, and decided that March 10-13 would be my last opportunity to fish for rainbow trout on the Guadalupe River for the 2024-25 season. The Guadalupe River Trout Unlimited (GRTU) Lease Access Program generally goes from November through March. During this time, our local GRTU chapter (the largest in the country) stocks trout in the Guadalupe River tailwater below Canyon Lake. The water coming out of the dam is cold enough for trout. But by early April, the water temperature is beginning to rise and it can become unsustainable for the trout the further one gets from the dam. Generally, it is recommended that anglers not fish for trout once the water gets above about 68 degrees. Fighting them in warm water stresses them out, increasing the mortality rate. Most of the trout that are put in the Guadalupe River either die or are harvested by end of the season. Though, some survive to the next year. A lot depends on the water temperature and water flow. Unfortunately the flow is very low this year as West Texas is in a drought, and Canyon Lake is quite low, less than 50% full.

Back to my trip. I had checked the temperature and rain predictions and they looked good. The days were going to be warm with cool nights, and there was a low percentage of rain. Good camping weather. The water temperature could be questionable, but I would look for cooler water. As this was going to be my last trip of the season, I decided to go for four days rather than my customary three days. I was joined on this trip by good friends Tom Strawther and Steve Edwards.

The week before I had made a solo trip and found that there were extra folks there for spring break, but I was able to navigate around them. So, I didn’t expect too many spring breakers on this trip. But in fact, it seemed that there were a few more, at least in the water, than the prior week.

We arrived Monday and set up camp (we were tent camping). I decided that afternoon to hit the water. On the way to the campground that morning I had talked with a guide friend and he had suggested I might want to focus on “runs” versus “deep pools.” It seemed the fish were concentrated in the runs, where the water was more oxygenated. By this time of the year, the water temperatures were up close to 70 in some places. So, I picked a spot that had a few nice runs. I started at the top for the first run. I got one fish quickly. After I had worked the uppermost section, I began working my way down and caught another one. A family was playing in the water a ways down, but I had quite a bit of room to fish before I got to them.  As I was releasing the second fish, I remembered  a quote of John Geriach, “When I cradled him in the water to remove the hook, he felt as round, hard and slick as a bratwurst covered in wet silk.”

As I was playing the second fish, netting it, and releasing it, a teenager from the family had apparently seen me catch the two fish, so he grabbed a spinning rod, tromped up the river and planted himself directly below me on the river. I was frustrated, but decided to not say anything to him. Instead, I walked around him. I almost said something to his parents—not to rebuke him, but to educate them. But I chose to be silent. 

Instead, I decided to cross over the river and slowly made my way down to the bottom of the run. About the time I got there, studied the water a few minutes, and was about to make my first cast, another fly fisherman walked down the path on the opposite side and started fishing across from me in the same hole that I was obviously about to fish. Again, I chose not to say anything. Instead, in frustration, I hiked out, went to the truck and drove to another place. 

At the second place, there was a fisherman in the lower part of the run. I spoke with him and before entering the water, I asked him if he was working up or down stream so that I could go in the other direction. He indicated I could fish above him. So I went to the top of the run and quickly caught two fish. After working that run for a while longer, I decided to go further upstream. About the time I worked my way almost to the area I had targeted, a group of four kayaks came from behind me, loaded their kayaks in the water and messed up the area where I really wanted to fish. But I was still able to get two fish on the way back down the river.

Folks, when we are on the river, we all need to practice a little fishing etiquette. For starters:  Give other anglers as much space as possible. Don’t jump into the top or bottom of a hole or run that has another angler in it without asking. Check to see which way an angler is heading before getting in and disturbing the water.

The next day, Steve and Tom were going on a half-day guided float trip and I was going to solo fish. But I woke up with, how should I politely this, gastrointestinal issues. So, my better judgment suggested that I not get too far from camp (i.e. the restroom) that morning. So I didn’t fish that morning. Tom and Steve returned early afternoon and reported that they had a great outing, with both catching quite a few fish—most in the section that had been disturbed by the kayakers the prior day.

As I was sitting in camp Tuesday morning, nursing my gastro issue, the wind began to pick up. By early afternoon, there were steady 18-20 mph winds with gusts in the 30-35 mph range. Along with the wind came lots of dust—that West Texas drought and a lot of dry ground in the campground. I had been nursing a sinus issue for several months and the dust was “killing” me. I was miserable. In addition, the dust was blowing into our tents—which makes for pretty uncomfortable camping. Upon checking the weather, it became obvious that Wednesday would be more of the same and maybe a little worse. Lesson learned—when you check the weather report, not only pay attention to the temperature and rain predictions but also the wind. As I was waiting for Tom and Steve to come off the water, I was quite concerned that Steve’s canopy would be ripped. I knew it wouldn’t blow away, because we had really staked it out well. But I suspected we would need to take it down so it wouldn’t tear. I really expected Tom and Steve to come in and say it was just too windy and they were ready to pack it up. They didn’t. However, as we talked about the wind and my sinuses were miserable, l was the first to toss in the hat and say I’m packing up and heading home. Steve and Tom quickly agreed, so the trip ended suddenly and unceremoniously.

In the prior year on my last day on the Guadalupe I was blown away with a stellar morning of fishing. But this year I was just blown out.

The good news is that there will be other chances on the Guadalupe—can’t hardly wait for next year! We’ll see which way the wind blows.

“To go fishing is the chance to wash one’s soul with pure air, with the rush of the brook, or with the shimmer of sun on blue water. It brings meekness and inspiration from the decency of nature, charity toward tackle-makers, patience toward fish, a mockery of profits and egos, a quieting of hate, a rejoicing that you do not have to decide a darned thing until next week. And it is discipline in the equality of men—for all men are equal before fish.“
~Herbert Hoover