48 | July 2012
sun set, I elected to run back out through Mitchell’s Cut and across to the cattle pen shoreline as a more protected route. As we exited Mitchell’s Cut and headed into open water the steering cable on my buddy’s boat broke and somehow took out the electrical harness with it, simultaneously killing the power and the controls to the motor. The boat died immediately and began to drift helplessly on the shoulders of the outgoing tide toward the Pass, which had grown angry and riddled with nasty standing waves. I frantically tried to find an anchor, but there was none. It had been inadvertently removed by one of the campers in our group. Eventually we managed to get the wiring harness hooked back up and got the motor started. But there still were no controls, so as I applied the throttle, my friend bear hugged the 90 hp cowling and steered the boat by hand. Somehow we managed to get the boat out of the grips of the Pass and back down the shoreline where we eventually reached our group near the foot of the Big Jetties. Pass Cavallo will always hold a very special place in my memory. Looking back on these trips reminds me of how many personalities it has, both good and bad. And how, over time, certain places can and will engrain themselves in your history.
C O N TA C T
That trip has really stuck with me all these years. Perhaps it is because I now have boys of my own and understand what must have gone through my dad’s head when he pulled away from that beach. He understood and shared our love of adventure, trusted us to make good decisions, and no doubt said a prayer or two as he motored back toward town. Another trip that really stands out in my mind is when I first took my wife Pam (who was then my girlfriend) to fish for redfish at Pass Cavallo. Pam had done a little fishing before we met, mostly freshwater. She was excited to try saltwater fishing so I suggested we try to catch some big redfish from the beach. We borrowed her grandfather’s old Lone Star v-hull boat, loaded it down with a few surf rods, and after a short boat ride from the Fishing Center in Port O’Connor, we beached it near the J-hook. It turned out to be one of those remarkable days. Throughout most of it, a large school of bull reds nestled in just off the shoreline and we landed many along the clean sandy shores of the Pass. These were big fish, many near or over 50 inches. Both of us got so sore from fighting them that we ended up using a spare life jacket as a cushion for the butts of the rods. In the months that followed I tried to remind Pam that saltwater fishing was not always that good. Another trip was not nearly as fun. We had been camping at the Big Jetties and one member of our group arrived a few days late. I agreed to make the run back to town to pick him up. After an uneventful trip back to the boat ramp, we loaded his gear in my buddy’s old flat bottom and headed back out. The end of the Little Jetties in POC had been a bit rough on the way in, so as the
Casey Smartt has been fly fishing and tying flies for 30 years. When he cannot make it to the coast he is happy chasing fish on Texas inland lakes and rivers. Telephone Email Website
830-237-6886 caseysmartt@att.net www.caseysmartt.com