This week I am going to tell you another fishing story that was full of crazy but — believe me — real events. Lets call it Jungle Baby Tarpon.

It was about 1981 when I got a call from Ed Weaver of Dallas. Ed owned Dallas North Taxidermy and I had taken him on a charter trip of 24 to Cuba a couple years earlier to catch the world record black bass. Ed called me to see if I was interested in catching hundreds of baby tarpon and some big snook in a remote jungle river. I asked him where this fantastic river was located. Ed said it was in Honduras and a friend of his had fished it a couple years ago and it was loaded with baby tarpon and snook.

Even though our primary business was Mexico bass fishing I had been looking to getting into the tarpon business. I had made a tarpon fishing trip to Costa Rica with my friend Chuck Pearce in 1977 and really liked it so I wanted to find a great place to take clients. Bill Langford of Ft. Worth had owned Karawalla Tarpon camp which was the best in the world until the communists confiscated his camp and ran him out of the country. He left the country with only the clothes on his back, but at least he made it out alive. That’s a great story for another day.

I told Ed I was ready and would invite a couple of friends plus pay his expenses to go with us. I invited Chuck Pearce of Corsicana, who had made several trips to Canada and Mexico with me and his ranch foreman, Joe Graves of Kerens. All of us left Dallas together and flew to Honduras. We landed in San Pedro Sula and were met by Ed’s friend who we called “Captain.” This man was an American, maybe in his 60s, and owned the Reef House on Roatan Island off the coast of Honduras. He had left the USA some 40 years prior and had never returned. Chuck, Joe and I guessed he had fled for some reason or another and couldn’t return.

We left the airport and got a hotel room for the night as we were to leave early the next morning for this secret jungle river. We left the dock just after daylight the next morning in the Gulf of Honduras for a 1 hour boat ride to the mouth of the river. The captain was a former ship captain and he said we must leave early to the river and return to the mouth of the river by 2 pm to avoid rough seas when the Easterlies began to blow. The boat was an old wooden boat that the captain said had a lot of dry rot and couldn’t take much pounding. He didn’t tell me that detail until we were half way to the river or I might not have gone!

We made the trip to the river with no problem and we eagerly started fishing for the hundreds if not thousands of tarpon and snook. After about an hour we hadn’t even had a strike and had moved quite a distance up the river. I asked the captain what he thought was wrong and he replied he simply didn’t know. Finally, Joe caught a baby tarpon — about 4 pounds — and that picked up our spirits. We kept going up river without a bite but we were enjoying the beauty of the jungle and all the animals, especially the monkeys and all the brightly colored parrots and other birds. The river was also beautiful with its clear water and occasional alligator and hundreds of funny sounding frogs.

Sometime after mid morning we came upon an old coconut plantation that was deserted save for a couple of men hacking on some coconuts. We waived to them as we fished on by them going farther and farther up river. Finally the old boat captain said we must return to the mouth of the river and begin our trip back to the dock before the Easterlies came up. We all were super disappointed as our long journey from Dallas had produced only one small tarpon.

When we arrived at the mouth of the river the Easterlies were already blowing a gale and the ocean was very rough. The captain said it was just too dangerous and we would have to spend the night in the jungle. Man oh man was I upset, but the anger turned very quickly to a mood of survival as I knew the jungle was full of big cats and lots of poisonous snakes. I suggested that we return to the old plantation and seek the advise of the two men cutting the coconuts. We fired up the engine and went up river as fast as we could to talk to the men.

We arrived to find them still hacking on the coconuts with machetes. Pulling the boat up to the bank, the captain got out and explained our situation. He found out that these men were from a village about 10 to 15 miles away and that they walked into the jungle and cut coconuts all week before returning to their village. The only way out was to walk, which would take several hours. They said that they would let us sleep in the jungle with them but they only had 2 hammocks and we would have to sleep on the ground. I didn’t like that idea one little bit.

I started walking around looking for a suitable sleeping place when I stumbled on a set of very narrow rail tracks that were covered with tall grass and weeds. I asked the men about the old tracks and they explained that many years ago the tracks were used to transport the coconuts out of the jungle when the plantation was still in operation. I then walked over to an old junk pile of cans and everything you can imagine and there was one of the old pump carts turned upside down. It had not been used in 15 to 20 years. I got Joe Graves and Ed to help me pull it out of the junk pile and turn it back upright. The wheels were rusted so badly they were froze up and wouldn’t turn. We got everyone to get in their tackle boxes and take out their reel oil and we began putting it on the wheels until we got them freed up.

We put the cart on the tracks and tried out the pump handle and — guess what — it worked! What comes next is beyond my imagination…. I hired the natives to pump us out of the jungle. Then we placed one igloo ice chest (24 quarts), Chuck, Ed, the “Captain,” and myself all on this very small cart. That is 6 grown men plus tackle boxes, rods and reels and the ice chest. There was no room for Joe, so he offered to jog along behind. I agreed to take his place when he got tired. We were headed for the jungle village about 10 miles away. It was probably 3 pm when we left the plantation.

Joe and I took turns jogging beside the cart, but we began to get tired after maybe 2 or 3 hours. By that time the 2 native men were exhausted and couldn’t pump anymore. I paid them some money and Joe and I began to pump the cart, stopping every now and then for a rest. Ed pumped a little but not much. The “Captain” and Chuck were just not physically able to pump.

Just as darkness set in, we arrived in a small village which looked almost like heaven to us. We were saved! There were a few cars parked on the street and one or two driving down the dirt street. I ran out into the street and stopped the first car that came along. Guess what! It was a yellow Chevy II just like the one I stopped in Obregon, Mexico a few years before.

I told the driver I would give him $50 dollars to take us to San Pedro Sula. He said he couldn’t fit us all into his car, but I assured him we were experts at fitting into small spaces. We all crowded into the car, sitting on one another’s laps for the one hour ride to the city.

This ends part one of our Honduras adventure. Next week I’ll wrap up this story. We were still in for some adventures that were pretty funny–in retrospect!

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Good luck with your fishing and wear that lifejacket.

When was your last fishing ADVENTURE?

This week, let’s look at a variety of fishing other than just bass fishing. Of course bass fishing is my favorite type of fishing but since I’ve had the opportunity to bass fish Mexico and its wonderful lakes over the past 37 years, I fish for different type of fish here in the states. I highly recommend to all fishermen that they change it up from time to time.

Currently, Ron Jr. and I are fishing for channel catfish on Cedar Creek Lake and Richland Chambers Lake which are close to where we live. We try and go 2 to 3 times a week this time of the year (daylight to 10 am) when it is cooler. Man, are we having a ton of fun and filling the freezers full of great eating fish for this winter to go with our backstraps, quail and dove.

Here is what we are doing…. We get up at 5 am and drive 6 miles to the power plant lake at Trinidad, Texas. Remember, that’s the Lake I told you about where the first Florida bass were stocked in 1972 before they were put in the public lakes of Texas. The first African Tilapia were also stocked in this lake so the Dept. of fisheries could study them before putting them in other lakes. We take our cast nets and about 6 am the threadfin shad start moving and in 15 minutes we have enough bait to fish that morning.

We then launch our 18 ft Xpress catfish boat at Star Harbor ramp and usually we have our first catfish in the boat within 15 to 20 minutes. We have 2 methods we use, but if there is a nice breeze we drift fish over the numerous humps out in the middle of the lake. In March and April we were fishing in 2 feet of water with corks along the sea walls but after the catfish spawned we had to move deeper. Currently we are catching our fish in 19 to 25 feet using the fresh threadfin shad. We rig up with 20 lb test P-line or Izor line rigged Carolina style with a 1oz egg weight and a brass swivel and a 6 inch leader. My favorite hook for these smaller type channels is a wide mouth #4 or #5 gamakatsu hook. If you drift fish most of your fish will run from 1 1/2 lb. to 2 lb. which is my favorite size fish to eat. We skin the fish and fry them whole in hot peanut oil (375 degrees). Take a fork and rake the meat away from the backbone and you will think you have died and gone to heaven. Don’t use catsup or you will miss the truly great flavor of one of the world’s best eating fish.

This coming Friday I will take my daughter Mary and we will get on one of the 20 foot humps and drop a weight to hold the boat. Then I will spread out some soured maize around the boat and then we will fish straight up and down. It is not unusual to catch a 2 person limit of 50 in 3 hours.

This kind of fishing is a great change up for bass guys and a ton of fun for those that are just learning about fishing. Since we catch sometimes a limit we may catch just as many that won’t measure, which means something is biting the hook all the time. That is great for kids but you will need to take the fish off for them as a stick from a catfish fin is no fun for anyone. Try it sometime as you may find it to be as much fun as I do!

We’d love to hear your comments. Click on “Comments” (or “No Comments”) under the story below.

Good luck with your fishing and wear that life jacket.

Many of the resources that we list on our site are helpful for varied types of fishing.

Today I want to talk about people who fish. Two friends of mine, Billy and Bobby Murray, have a TV show called People Who Fish. In my 64 years of bass fishing, I have met thousands and thousands of fishermen all over the hemisphere. From Canada all the way to South America with a couple years in Cuba.

I don’t know why, but I can testify that fishermen are some of the finest people on the face of the earth. Their biggest flaw is stretching the truth about their catches. It doesn’t matter what nationality they are, fishermen all seem to be ready to help each other. They’re eager to talk, except about where to find their secret fishing spot.

I have been very fortunate in my life to have met so many fine people who came bass fishing with us in the past 38 years. Unfortunately, many have already passed on over the years. But most had a pretty good life, I think because of their love of fishing. I don’t know what it is, but fishing has a way to make people forget about the trials and tribulations of everyday life. In fishing, there’s a sense of tranquility and peaceful calm that many other sports or hobbies don’t offer. Golf is a great game, but many golfers come home frustrated with their game that day. Hunters also have a different adrenaline rush that is definitely not calming.

There used to be a saying that went something like “a day spent fishing extends a person’s life by a day.” I have no reason to doubt that saying. I also have seen many remarkable things regarding people who fish. I had a call several years ago from a man in Arizona who wanted to go fishing with us in Mexico. I believe he was with two friends. I said “great!” But then he told me he was in a wheelchair and didn’t want to be a problem or a burden. His name is Dick Worrell and over the years he has become a friend of mine. I told Dick that I admired him very much and would do everything possible to make his trip a success. I not only told him he would not be a problem but added that it would be our honor to have him. I think the world of him to this day.

Back in March our company bookkeeper lost her dad, whom I had never met. Virginia and I went to the funeral. His name was Cecil Downey and around the casket were pictures of him holding fish, some of bass, others of catfish and perch. I thought how remarkable Mr. Downey was in his life to continue to fish after losing both his legs while fighting the Japanese on Iwo Jima — a world war hero whose favorite hobby was fishing. The loss of both legs at the hip didn’t stop him. He died at 83 and was planning a fishing trip with his new rubber raft at the time of his death. I sat there listing to different ones talk about him and everyone talked about HIS LOVE OF FISHING. I couldn’t help but shed a few tears and wished to goodness I had got to talk with him before he passed away.

I would advise everyone who likes to fish, don’t make excuses for not being able to go fishing for this reason or the other. Take time to go fishing and extend your life a few days. Continue to be the best of the best!

Good luck with your fishing and remember to wear that lifejacket.

Last week’s story ended with Coach Phillips and me trying to catch a flight out of Ciudad Obregon, Mexico to Phoenix, Arizona connecting with American to Dallas. However, I left out a part of this story that is very important and I am going to insert it now before we resume part 4.

Bill Hodge and his copilot caught a commercial flight from Chihuahua City back to Ft. Worth, Texas as I and my group were boarding the train for EL Fuerte. Bill immediately got a mechanic, parts for the DC3 engine and he left Ft. Worth bound for Mexico. He and the mechanic were going to repair the airplane engine as the plane sat on the road. Bill stopped at the Mexico border and reported his activities to Mexican border officials. They sent a border official with Bill and the mechanic in the Cessna 310 twin engine plane.

Their plan was to repair the engine of the DC3, which Bill would fly back to Ft. Worth while the mechanic flew the Cessna. As they were landing on the road in front of the DC3, the Cessna 310 right wing hit a small bush and spun the 310 off in the gully, totaling the airplane. They all survived with a few scratches, but the plane was a loss. They removed the radios and then Bill was so mad that he loaded everyone on the DC3, cranked up the bad engine along with the good engine and took off down the dirt road. Bill got the plane airborne and then shut down the bad engine and managed to get it all the way back to Ft. Worth. I guess the Cessna is still in that gully.

Catching the Flight in Obregon

The yellow Chevy II managed to get Coach and me to the Obregon airport safe and sound but I figured we had missed the plane by 10 minutes. I thanked the driver and payed him a nice amount for the wild ride. As it turns out the Aeromexico flight was running late, so we headed straight for the bar. We began to down some spirits and recount the days activities. Little did we know then that we still were in for some surprises. Our flight was about 40 minutes late and we were relieved when we took off for Phoenix. After a smooth flight, we were very relieved to arrive back in the good ole USA.

Last week the story ended with the Austin fishermen racing wood-hauling carts with burros, drinking hot beer, and having a great time along with the fine people of the village. Suddenly a loud sharp train whistle sounded in the distance and everyone got very quite. Remember… some of the guys had persuaded the bus driver to park the bus across the train tracks to stop the train.

Everyone took off running toward the tracks and the bus. In about 2 or 3 minutes the short train came to a complete stop at the bus. Three or four of the largest men led the way on the train over the objections of the train personnel. I went along with them as I didn’t want to stay in this remote village with nothing to drink but HOT BEER. The train was already full with passengers so it just got even more full with 24 fishermen, 2 pilots, and Coach Phillips and myself. Everyone just found a place to sit or stand and we finally started moving again after all the objections of the train personnel.

I managed to find out that the train was headed for Chihuahua City and it would arrive in about 3 hours. I also found out that the next day a train left Chihuahua City at 7 am and crossed the Sierra Madre Mountains arriving at El Fuerte Mexico in 10 hours. Remember, El Fuerte was our original destination when we lost the airplane engine. I asked every one of my fishermen if they wanted to continue this adventure and still go fishing or fly back to Austin from Chihuahua. Everyone decided to go on with the fishing trip on the condition that Bill Hodge, the pilot, would go back to Ft. Worth and get another plane and come back and get them in 5 days in El Fuerte. What an amazing group of real tough men!

Upon arrival in Chihuahua City I went to the ticket office and bought 26 train tickets from Chihuahua through Copper Canyon to El Fuerte for the next day. We then hired cabs to take us downtown where we rented hotel rooms for the night.

The next morning before daylight we were all loading in cabs to go to the train station to catch our 7 am train when one fisherman came up to me and said he had talked to his family the night before and they wanted him to come back home. I gave him a big hug and told him how sorry I was things didn’t turn out like we planned. I wished him good luck and good bye.

We got to the train station in plenty of time and at 7 am we were back on track for a fishing adventure. The ride across the mountains was simply fantastic and unbelievably spectacular. In one word, breathtaking! I called this train ride the survival trip as everyone was so happy and having such a great time. The entire crew went to the back of the train to the restaurant and bar and ordered drinks by 8 am. Many games of chance broke out and the standing order for the waiters was to bring a tray full of drinks, take the empty glasses and bottles away and bring another full tray of drinks. This went on all day long and I can tell you for a fact that several thousand dollars changed hands that day. “Not to worry,” one fisherman said… “IT’S ONLY MONEY. I have my life and I am going to live what’s left in high style.”

We arrived in El Fuerte sometime around 5 or 6 PM that afternoon. FINALLY, WE HAD ARRIVED! Charlie Wright, the camp owner, was there waiting with his crew and vans to take us to the house where we would be staying.

The fishing was good and everyone had a good time. But I want to fast forward this story, as there is some great stuff still ahead. Bill Hodge, the pilot, came back in 5 days as he promised and picked up Bob Landis and the great guys he brought with him. When Bill came in to Mexico he brought my next group of fishermen which was 24 guys from Dallas and Arlington. Most, if not all were car dealers and salesmen ready to go fishing. The Austin group flew out, bound for Austin with one stop in Laredo Texas.

Guess what… They didn’t make it as they lost another engine just as they got into the mountains. Bill Hodge turned the plane around and flew to Los Mochis to have the engine fixed. Two days later they finally took off from Los Mochis and this time they made it across the mountains and landed in Laredo Texas. There they all were greeted by about 10 to 15 federal agents. Each man was questioned thoroughly and was told he would have to appear in court in the future as a witness. The plane was locked down and confiscated by the agents. I really don’t know what happened to Bill Hodge and his co-pilot here in Laredo. Everyone got commercial flights back to Austin.

Coach Phillips and I were not aware of any of the problems as we were still at the lake working the group that came in. When that group left, Coach and I left real early the next morning for a 3-hour drive to Obregon to catch a commercial flight to Phoenix, connecting to Dallas. About 20 miles out of Obregon the brand new Volkswagen combi transmission went out and it would only run about 10 miles an hour. Finally, it just stopped and I jumped out and hailed down a yellow Chevy II. Tommy and I threw our gear in and we asked the driver to take us to the airport ASAP. I told him we only had 20 minutes to catch a plane. He said “can’t do!” By now, I had the routine down and said, “if you make it we’ll give you a nice sum of money for your trouble.” As we left a city street to get on the main highway the driver made a gesture with his hand to his forehead and then across his chest. God save us! Tommy gave me a silent glance, took the stopper out of the whiskey bottle and threw it out of the window. He wouldn’t be needing that stopper any more!

We were passing cars on the wrong side and driving wild and crazy. The driver had his yellow Chevy II going as fast as it would go, probably 80 mph. The car had really bad shocks and it was rolling from one side of the highway to the other. With no stopper in the whiskey bottle to slow us down, we drank about half the 5th in 5 minutes. Finally, I moved up behind the driver and hollered calf rope! I told him to slow down as I just couldn’t take any more excitement, even with the whiskey. I told the driver I was going to pay him a nice amount even if we missed the flight as we were certain to do.

THIS IS THE END OF PART 3—- NEXT WEEK WILL BRING THIS EXCITING STORY TO A CLOSE WITH SOME BIGGER SURPRISES YET.

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Good luck with your fishing and wear that lifejacket.

Join us for a SAFE trip to Mexico or Brazil!

Last week the story ended as I was telling my former high school coach, Tommy Phillips, that I didn’t want to burn up in a fireball when we crashed. I thought about what would happen to the fuselage if the wings were torn off. The door was immediately behind my seat and to the left. I wondered if I would would be killed instantly or maybe knocked unconscious A million things went through my head.

Tommy was still giving me the lowdown on our altitude and how long we had before impact. It seems to me like he gave me 200 feet and maybe 10 minutes to impact. There was still nothing but mesquite trees, cactus, bushes, and lots of rocks and boulders. When two minutes had passed , I felt the airplane making a sharp turn to the right and in about 30 seconds Tommy said “MY GOD! THERE’S A SMALL ROAD!” It just came out of nowhere and then I heard the landing gear go down and the plane started descending very rapidly.

The next thing I knew I felt the wheels touch down and the landing was as smooth as a baby’s butt, nothing like the landing back in Piedras Negras. When we finally came to a stop, I nearly went deaf amidst all the screams, hollering, yelling, laughing, and hugging.I was right in the middle of all the celebrating and doing my share of the yelling and hugging. In nothing flat we were off the plane and down on the ground kissing the ground and hugging one another.

After about five minutes of celebrating, we started looking around to get our bearings. We had no idea of where we were and the truth is we didn’t give a damn. We were alive and that is all we cared about. We were on the ground and safe—absolutely nothing else mattered at all to us. No one can know just how great we all felt unless he has experienced being about to die one moment and then being given more life to live the next moment. After all the excitement I felt that for the rest of my life I would be living on borrowed time.

There I was, standing behind the huge DC3 sitting on this little narrow dirt road when an old Mexican cowboy came riding up on a horse. His eyes were big as silver dollars, staring at us and this huge plane. Within 10 minutes I saw a lot of dust boiling up behind us on the road and in a few minutes up drove an OLD COUNTRY BUS with chickens and pigs tied on top. The bus had no hood or windows. It was loaded down with very poor country people who got out to see this big airplane that blocked the road. On each side of the road was a deep gully, maybe 40 feet deep so everyone felt the bus was stuck on that road along with us and the plane.

In those days I only spoke a little Spanish. I managed to ask the driver where he was taking the people and he answered me but I didn’t understand. I went to our pilot, Bill Hodge, and asked if he knew where we were. He said “more or less east of Chihuahua,” but he really didn’t know. He said he had sent out a mayday before we landed but he doubted it got out to anyone due to the high mountains.

I went back to the bus driver and told him I would give each person on the bus $10 to let us have their seats. He asked them and they agreed immediately as $10 in those days was a lot of money in Mexico. Once again I had to borrow money from Bob and the rest of the guys and they came up with 25 ten dollar bills. I called the people around me and went to handing out money. I must have given out half a dozen bills when I noticed one of the guys had moved around in the circle and had his hand out again. Well, I got all the money back and asked them all to get on board the airplane and have a seat so I could keep up with who had gotten money. They were very reluctant to get on the plane but with a little coaching they got on board and I gave them all the money. They were very happy. In the meantime my group had talked to the driver and offered him $50 to take the bus off in the gully to try and get it around the plane. We had decided the road ran to the North and we felt our best chance was to go north toward the USA.

As the driver very slowly maneuvered the bus down the gully, several guys were betting up to $1000 on whether the bus would turn over and crash or not. A lot of money was bet but remember at this point money didn’t mean one thing to any of us. Well, the bus finally made it up on the road in front of the big plane that just barely fit on that mountain road. Before we took off I went back to the plane and gave away all the steaks, beer, pop, etc., as we had no room to carry all of the stuff. We did manage to take the three outboard motors and our clothes bags but left everything else with the poor people.

We were finally off on the second leg of this exciting Ron Speed Adventure. Man, were we all happy and laughing as our bus rumbled along stirring up a cloud of dust. I finally went to the bus driver and asked him if there were any cities or airports, or bus stations on this road. He replied, “No… nothing.” I asked if there were any trains in the area. He said that this road would cross a set of tracks in a small village called La Mula which was 4 hours away from us. He said the train only ran once a week and didn’t stop, except in Chihuahua. I asked him what day the train ran and he thought a minute and said it ran today and would pass through the village of La Mula in about 4 hours but it wouldn’t help us since it wouldn’t stop. I made him an offer of $25 if he got us to La Mula before the train got to the village. He said he would try and he mashed the foot pedal to the floor.

Let me interject something here…. In the years since this adventure I have come to fully appreciate the hospitality and integrity of the Mexican people. The bus driver and his passengers would have helped without monetary incentives. We were handing out money like there was no tomorrow partly because we were so glad to be alive, partly because we were naive, and partly because we really were asking for a lot!

In about 3 hours, 45 minutes we all arrived in the village of La Mula. It was very small, with maybe 10 or 12 houses and an old saloon. There was no electricity, no cars, no running water and the houses had dirt floors. The one street was full of chickens, dogs, and burro-pulled wood carts. The driver parked the bus about 50 feet off the tracks and told us again that the train wouldn’t stop for us. That’s when Bob offered him $50 to pull the bus up across the train tracks. After a little coaxing, he accepted the $50 and moved the bus across the tracks to stop the train. I found out from a guy in the village that the train only had about 4 cars and one of the cars had a plastic top so passengers could see the countryside. The train was called the Vista Dome and it traveled very fast. I found out that if it was running on time it would arrive in about 25 minutes.

Most of the group went down the street to the saloon and started drinking hot beer and the next thing I knew, my fishermen had paid hefty sums to borrow 4 wood-hauling carts and burros. They started racing the carts down the main street and betting like there was no tomorrow. Everyone was just having a ball, hollering, laughing, joking, and having a great. great time. One guy lost $500 on a race and he told me it was the best money he had ever spent. After about 20 minutes of this great fun we all heard a loud train whistle in the distance.

THIS IS THE END OF PART 2—-NEXT WEEK WILL BE PART 3

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Good luck with your fishing and wear that lifejacket.

Join us for a SAFE trip to Mexico or Brazil!

This week I am going to tell you a story about a near fatal airplane accident in the mountains of Mexico. In 1972 I had just quit my job as athletic director & head football coach at Hemphill, Texas High School. I had moved to Dallas to start my Mexico fishing business.

The first group I had booked was the Austin Woods & Water Club for a 3-day fishing trip to Lake Dominguez, Mexico. Bob Landis was the President of the club and he booked 24 members to go to this remote lake on Mexico’s west coast. I hired my high school football coach, Tommy Phillips, to go along and help me work with the group.

We got up at 4 am and drove to Meacham Field in Fort Worth to meet Bill Hodge, the owner of Sportsman Air Travel. The Dallas Woods & Water club had used Bill Hodge before on trips to Canada, so I felt he was an experienced operator and was OK to use. Bill, along with his copilot Tommy and myself left Ft. Worth before daylight headed to Austin to pick up my clients.

Upon arrival I met Bob Landis and all the club members. We starting loading gear which was over 20 ice chests full of steaks, cases of American beer, 3 outboard motors, and 24 suitcases. It took over 30 minutes with over 20 guys loading all this gear. Since I was very young and not a pilot I thought nothing at all about weight. There were 5 clients in the group that were BIG MEN… I mean close to 300lb each.

Bill Hodge was a veteran pilot of DC3s in WWII and had been shot down twice in the European campaign by the Germans. I felt in the best of hands as Bill had logged THOUSANDS OF HOURS in a DC3 during and after the war. However, before we left Austin Bill asked me for $300 for gas money for the plane. I didn’t have it so I reluctantly had to ask Bob and club members for the money. I was embarrassed.

We left Austin about 9 am headed for Piedras Negras, Mexico. The flight was pretty much uneventful until we went to land. Bill let the copilot land the plane and the copilot bounced it all over the place which scared me pretty bad as I was a newcomer to flying. The fuel crew refueled the plane from old rusty 55 gallon drums while we waited for permission to enter Mexico. Somehow Bill had failed to get permission from Mexico City in advance so we had to wait 2 hours before we could take off.

Finally we got airborne and were headed nonstop to our final destination in El Fuerte, Mexico. In about 1 hour of flying we started into some really tall and rough looking mountains. The peaks were majestic looking but I kept noticing there was absolutely no place to land a plane if we had a problem. I was nervous.

Bill Hodge, the pilot, paid me and Tommy a visit at the back of the plane next to the door. Bill asked us how we were doing and I told him I was nervous as I hadn’t flown that much. Bill said don’t worry that he could land this plane on a football field. He started to say something else when the plane shook with a violent tremor. Bill excused himself quickly and went back to the cockpit.

Tommy, who was sitting by the window, nudged me and said to look out the window. I saw brown oil all over the window and then the propeller started turning more slowly. It looked rather ominous as it slowed to a complete stop. Everyone on board was looking out the left side windows at the dead motor and still prop.

I got up and went forward into the cockpit where I found Bill and his copilot looking at a big map of Mexico. I asked Bill how we were doing and he replied “We’re just fine. We have lost an engine and we are changing course to go to Chihuahua City for repairs. We have 10,500 ft altitude and we should arrive in about 40 minutes.” I went back into the cabin and told everyone what Bill had said and they resumed talking and drinking, and drinking. Bubba Ross and his dad, Dr. Ross from Lockhart ,Texas were part of the group. Bubba and his buddy were sitting in the aisle playing gin rummy and drinking scotch. They never missed a hand.

In about 40 minutes we were flying in a canyon and losing altitude very rapidly and were not anywhere close to Chihuahua. The plane was about 500 feet off the ground and it was jumping up and down violently as the temperature was very hot. I went forward to the cabin again and it was a totally different picture this time. Both Bill and the other pilot had both hands on the controls trying to fly the plane, which was next to impossible. It reminded me of old movies I had seen where WWII bombers were shot up really bad and the pilots were fighting the controls.

I asked Bill, “How are we doing now?” and he said “NOT WORTH A DAMN. Get to the back and tell everyone we are going to crash into all that rock and brush that you see on the ground.” Bill said “IT’S GOING TO BE A ROUGH ONE.” I went back and all eyes and ears were waiting on me to speak. I told everyone to put their head between their legs on their small pillows, and to be sure and have their seat belts fastened very tight. Leroy Bednour from Austin was sitting in one of the first seats next to the cabin and he told me later that I repeated myself seven times before going back to my seat. When I got to the back, Tommy said, “We’re not going to make it, are we?” I said “No coach, we’re not going to make it, and I am very sorry I got you into this mess.” Tommy said “Just scoot over next to me. I don’t feel this is my day to die.”

Tommy kept giving me reports on how close to the ground we were and how much time before impact. All I could think about was that I didn’t want to burn up in the fireball that was sure to happen when we crashed….

THIS IS THE END OF PART 1 OF THIS EXCITING STORY — PART 2 NEXT WEEK!

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Good luck with your fishing and wear that lifejacket.

Join us for a SAFE trip to Mexico or Brazil!

This week let’s talk about the most celebrated and famous black bass lake of all time: Lake El Salto! How did this small 12,000 acre lake get so popular and why does it produce so many huge bass? How did this happen? Why did other Mexican lakes (other than Comedero) not come even close to all the publicity and all the big bass?

Lake El Salto did not start out as a great lake. In fact, it started out as a one-year wonder and then fell flat. We built the first camp on the water at Salto and were there when it opened. There were a couple guys keeping some fishermen in the village of Paradon Colorado in an old remodeled chicken pen but they were about five miles from the lake.

After the first year, we were all alone fishing the lake as the fishing went very bad after the first full year. Nothing but small, skinny, sickly bass and no big fish at all. I called the Texas fisheries people in Austin and talked to the head of fisheries, who I believe was Mr. Durocher. I explained the problem and he speculated that we had two problems going on at the lake: 1) we had too many bass for the amount of food available and 2) we probably needed some fresh blood introduced as the small bass always stayed small. When he asked about food sources, I told him we originally had threadfin shad but I hadn’t seen any in over a year. We also had two species of African tilapia but their numbers had been greatly reduced due to so many black bass. The commercial fishermen were not catching very many and what they did catch were small.

I was told the old solution of pond management might work to help solve our problem. This simple solution is that if you have too many small bass in a pond or small lake you have two choices. You can put more food in the lake or pond or you can start taking lots of fish out of the lake to get it into a good balance. I chose to get more food as the local people would not understand us taking out tons of bass while we were telling them not to fish the bass commercially.

Mr. Durocher with the Texas fisheries told me to get threadfin shad by seining and to put them in a round container filled with the very water in which we caught the shad. It was summertime so he said we would have to do it at night. He reminded me to never touch the shad with our hands but to use a net to get them out of the seine.

Our manager lived close to the lake and he knew some lagoons near Lake El Salto that had shad. We worked every night for 2 months hauling shad trip after trip from the lagoons to the lake. I estimated that we restocked over 500,000 threadfin shad into the lake. It has never been without plenty of shad since that stocking in–I believe–1996.

Next we began stocking pure strain Florida bass into the lake from Texas. Some came from Gary White in Van, Texas and some came from Catfish Meadows in Buffalo, Texas. Dr. Locke from Overton, Texas inspected the fish and gave the health permits to take them into Mexico legally. The Culiacan Bass Club, the Mazatlan Bass Club, and the Durango Bass Club assisted me with transport vehicles and some amounts of money.

Many thanks go to Helen Collard who was the head of the Federal Fishing department in Mazatlan for signing all the permits to allow the entry into Mexico and the stocking of these Florida strain bass. They were Florida strain but in effect came from the lone star state of Texas.

As Paul Harvey would say, now you have the REST OF THE STORY.

Good luck with your fishing and wear that lifejacket!

Were you there in the early days of Lake El Salto? Share your memories! Click on “COMMENTS” or “NO COMMENTS” below.

This week let’s talk about TRUE FISHERMEN and just what constitutes a true fisherman. I guess there are many ways to describe a fisherman. It could be someone who fishes every day, or once a week, once a month, or maybe even once a year. Is it someone who likes to fish as a hobby but also plays golf, maybe hunts or several other activities? Professional fishing guides would be classified as true fisherman in many people’s minds.

There are many fishermen who fish strictly bass, some fish catfish, while others only fish crappie. In today’s world of fishing there are thousands of tournament bass anglers who love to compete in tournaments. It seems like most of today’s fishermen just fish for one species of fish and try to get good at catching that one species of fish.

However, I have a little different picture of a TRUE FISHERMAN. To me it is a person who just loves to catch fish and they fish for whatever fish is biting. I fit that category to a tee and always have since I was a little boy. I just love to fish a cork for bream or catfish or maybe crappie and watch the cork go under. I don’t care what type fish bites my hook — I just love to catch fish!

Normally I don’t bass fish here in the USA as I have been spoiled in Mexico with those big numbers and big size of easy catch bass. I fish either crappie or catfish as Virginia & I love to eat fish. In fact we eat fried fish once a week, usually after church on Sundays. This spring and summer Ron Jr. and I did some trotlining for yellow cat and we also fished with rod and reel for shallow water channel cat during the spawn. This is great fun and great eating. Every species of fish is a challenge and can be very sporting if you match your equipment to the fish.

If I had a close place to go and catch a stringer of redear bream I would include them in my fishing schedule as they are wonderful table fare. I saw a picture the other day in a lake magazine of a small boy holding a 4 LB redear. Don’t you know he had a ball catching that fish! I hope he got it mounted as he will probably never catch another one that large.

If you are not a TRUE FISHERMAN who enjoys catching lots of different fish then let me recommend that you try it. It will extend your fishing season and you will actually catch more fish in a year because you will always be fishing for the fish that are biting good at that moment.

Now I know some of you will have comments about this post. Agree or disagree… bring on your comments!

Good luck with your fishing and wear that lifejacket.

Join us and some other TRUE FISHERMEN for a trip to Mexico or Brazil!

This week let’s talk about summer patterns for bass. Today is the 18th of June and most bass have moved from the shallows and creek channels into deeper water. This is one of my favorite times to fish as the bass school up and when you find them you can usually catch several in one place.

I recommend that you find underwater structures which can be tank dams, old bridges, islands, etc. If there is a creek or river channel close, you may have found the mother lode. Even if there may not be a creek or river it is important that deep water is close.

To find these underwater structures you will need a good topo map of the lake that shows contours and underwater structures. I recommend that you take only your boat while mapping out the summer patterns of a lake. When you have found all the summer structures then you are ready to check these places out. Remember, bass spend most of the time in the summer suspended in deep water, so check your solunar tables for the major and minor feeding times for that day.

The bass will move up on these structures and feed until full, then move back to deep water and suspend. Don’t waste your time on these suspended fish as THEY WILL NOT BITE. You will have to catch them as they move up on structure. It’s a timing thing this time of the year.

The bait I like to use on summer bass is a Carolina rigged lizard with a 2ft leader. Of course you already know my favorite lizard is a zoom in the watermelon color with a dyed chartreuse tail. Really, my favorite lure for this is a Little George in the black & pearl. I love this bait but if there is brush you really have to know how to fish the little George to keep from hanging up. If the island or bridge is deeper than 20 ft then I like the storm swim bait in shad colors. The first 3 times I fished this bait in Lake El Salto in Mexico, I caught a 10lb bass each time in 25 ft of water right on the bottom. Oscar, one of our guides, turned me on to the swimbait and it is great for deep water bass.

Have fun this summer with your fishing and wear that lifejacket.

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