But the marsh that serves as the very foundation for those staggering fish and game stocks is disappearing, and in many places it’s totally gone. Unless serious, costly and painful steps are taken within the next five years, the Sportsman’s Paradise will become Paradise Lost.[…]
This summer has been one of the best in recent memory for bull dolphin. Read this issue to learn how to put more in the boat.[…]
When the sun begins to set, the best fishing of the day is about to begin on Toledo Bend and many other lakes across the state.[…]
The towering thunderheads to the south were beginning to intermittently glow a dazzling bright orange color reminiscent of a carpet of bombs exploding in the wake of a passing B-52 Bomber. […]
Venice and the Bassmaster Classic just haven’t mixed.[…]
The murky predawn glow of the ride across the coastal Terrebonne Parish marsh had broken spectacularly into a beautiful sun-soaked morning as we broke free of the rich salt marsh.[…]
James Peters was leaned out the side of the tuna tower, peering intently into the waters along the blue-green rip covered with sargassum grass.[…]
Capt. Aaron Pierce was waiting at the dock when we arrived. Daylight was peeking over the horizon, and our steed for the day, a 26-foot Glacier Bay Catamaran, reflected the early morning light.[…]
What luck. The doggone drawbridge was open on the Causeway. Just what I needed.[…]
Draw a line on a map between the Cameron Jetties and the 18-mile light out of Sabine Pass then back to the Sabine Jetties, and you have a triangle.[…]
It’s difficult to keep a positive attitude about a fishing trip when certain things take place on the long, predawn drive from New Orleans to Venice.[…]
Bass can get finicky this month, but hybrid stripers more than pick up the slack on some lakes.[…]
Sometimes getting out of the boat in July puts the odds in your favor, as it did last year for John Dean on a trip to Grand Isle.[…]
These didn’t look ANYTHING like pick-box draftees. None wore the battered sneakers and long-sleeved work shirt. None wore that huge straw sombrero and baggy pantaloons. None looked like Edith Bunker or Phyllis Diller. No, the sight of these had us RIVETED.[…]
It’s difficult to imagine an offshore fisherman who goes on an overnight fishing trip every doable weekend for four or five months being called “soft” or “a wuss,” but that’s what Dr. Russell O’Steen gets for finally admitting he’s reached the point where he no longer “goes regardless.”[…]
I pulled out my hand-held GPS to check our speed. Once all the satellites kicked in, it registered the incredible velocity of 2.4 knots. That’s right, two point four.[…]