The Louisiana Redfish Pursuit: Earn Every Bite.

I went down to one of my favorite spots in Louisiana to chase redfish. 

This place has produced some absolute giants for us over the years. I’m talking 40-inch fish. We get the chance to come down here and fish through our partnership with the CCA. Honestly, it’s because of their conservation work that we’re able to catch some of these beautiful fish. They do incredible work all across the state.

For weeks, we prepped six fully rigged kayaks, one for me, one for Jon B, and a few for the rest of the crew. I was pumped to get on some reds with Jon. Based on his content, he doesn’t seem to do a lot of redfishing, and heck, this was his first redfish ever out of a kayak.

I was super optimistic on day one. We were on the water quicker than we’d ever been before. Normally getting all those kayaks rigged and launched takes forever, but we knocked it out the night before, even after driving 12 hours and making it to the welcome dinner.

Honestly, I didn’t expect much from the morning bite. I knew about a deeper hole way back in the marsh that usually holds some big fish, so I headed straight there. I took a few casts along some deeper banks on the way, but something felt off. There was zero wind. The water was glassed over. No current to disguise my movements, no current to push my bait along naturally. It was dead still and all on me to make something happen.

Normally that slender channel I like has bait getting funneled through it, about 7 feet deep, with big reds sitting there waiting. The rest of the marsh is about a foot to a foot and a half deep. But with no moving water, my Four Horsemen popping cork just sat there, dead still in the middle of the channel.

I came up empty-handed. Where the heck were these fish? If they weren’t deep, maybe they pushed up shallow? The problem with that is you’ve got to sight fish them. You have to go full stealth mode and you’ve got to present that bait just right or you’ll blow ‘em out.
On my way back to the house, I slid into this shallow cove. I shortened my leader to about a foot, tied on a Z-Man PrawnStar under my cork, and started creeping along the bank real slow. Instead of casting at the bank, I casted parallel to it and slowly popped the cork back toward me.

Right as my cork hit the midway point between the cast and the kayak, it got hammered. The red took off straight for the bank and buried itself in some cover. I thought for sure I was gonna lose it, but after some quick moves with the motor, I managed to pull it out and land it. Finally. First fish of the trip, and not a bad one either, eyeballed around 30 inches.

Turns out Jon had an awesome morning too. He found the fish fast and caught the biggest red of the whole trip. Heading back that evening, even after catching that fish, I wasn’t feeling super confident. These fish could’ve been anywhere. The biggest challenge was that the water was just deep enough to hide their movements. We were basically blind casting all morning.

The plan was to hit the water again that evening, but we were told the tide would be ripping out fast and we wouldn’t have much time before things got too shallow. I knew I couldn’t go far, so I posted up in some open water where I thought reds might cross. I dropped anchor and sat there.

The water was less than a foot deep. Nothing happened for like 30 minutes. No signs of life. Then all of a sudden it was like someone flipped a switch. Fish started moving everywhere. The crazy part was the water was so shallow, these reds couldn’t even fully submerge. You’d bump the kayak and spook four or five grouped up.

The water was stained, visibility was zero, and most of the fish were moving way too fast to even get a cast in. But every now and then, you’d see one with its entire back out of the water, nose buried in the mud, barely moving. This was my shot. This was the fishing I love. Not luck, not chance. It’s all about making the perfect cast, the perfect presentation, and getting that fish to eat.

I could’ve stayed out there forever, but the water was leaving fast. On the way back in, I spotted a tail across the lake, just barely moving. I thought, what the heck, one more cast. I sat still and waited. The fish made its way toward the bow of my kayak. Heck, if I didn’t cast, he might’ve run straight into me.

Boom. Big time eat, three feet from the kayak. Landed him. Got him in the net. Fumbled around looking for my phone, and while I was messing around, the fish made a jailbreak right out of the net and flopped back into the water. Dad gummit.

But wait. The fish was floating belly up. Was it dead? No. Turns out the water was so shallow he couldn’t flip himself over. I reached over, flipped him right side up, and he took off.

Now the real panic set in. While I was messing with the fish, the tide dropped even more and I was stuck. Bottomed out. There was no way I was getting out and sinking in that marsh mud. Nope. I’d rather sleep in the kayak.

I started shuffling the kayak forward using my body weight. Took the paddle out and tried some strokes, just slinging up mud. Then I heard a loud crack. Broke a blade clean off the paddle. Now I’m sitting there with half a paddle.

I got down on my knees and paddled canoe-style, digging in and slinging mud everywhere for a solid ten minutes. Finally, I slipped into water about a foot deep. Trimmed the Xi3 motor way up and hammered it. I wasn’t moving fast, but I was moving.

I never want to be that close to sleeping in the marsh again. But man, what a trip. That final cast, that tailing red on the way back, even with all the chaos, made the whole week worth it. There’s just nothing like fishing out there.

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