"I just got my pirogue back from repairs." Kenny B Wright told me as I arrived on a Friday evening in early May. "Want to float the Tuxachanie tomorrow?" Kenny and I were both members of the Chukar Harbor Ancient Order of Sportsmen, and I was visiting him at his Gulf Coast winter home. I had planned to do some saltwater fishing but Kenny said the weather had been unusually warm this year and he wanted to float Tuxachanie Creek. Kenny spent the winters on the Gulf Coast and knew how to fish the area, so this had all the indications of a hallmark day. I really should learn to pay more attention to Kenny’s quiet, impish grin.
We got up early fixed coffee and breakfast. By 7:00 a.m., Kenny was loading jugs of water into the back of his pickup truck to later replenish his leaky radiator. Sticking out the rear of his pickup box was a narrow plank fourteen feet long and sharpened on both ends. Two narrow boards created 8-inch sides that wrapped around the plank.
We got up early fixed coffee and breakfast. By 7:00 a.m., Kenny was loading jugs of water into the back of his pickup truck to later replenish his leaky radiator. Sticking out the rear of his pickup box was a narrow plank fourteen feet long and sharpened on both ends. Two narrow boards created 8-inch sides that wrapped around the plank.
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| Photo by Doug Christian |
"So this is a pirogue." I said aloud noticing the four-inch high "seats" that were built into it. Kenny managed a ‘Yep’ through an impish grin as he hoisted two more jugs over the edge of the truck’s box. By 8:00 AM, we had spotted my truck at the take-out site and were pulling the pirogue (pronounced Pee´-Row) down an embankment to a 15-foot wide stream called Tuxachanie Creek. I had my doubts about whether the shallow craft would hold two heavy guys and their gear, but Kenny assured me that it held three guys during duck season last fall.
Before long, Kenny and I were actually floating over a deep downstream hole, with a generous 3 inches of gunwale out of the water. I reckoned the wake of a ½-grown muskrat crossing our drift might put us in jeopardy, but the little craft slid quietly through the water for about 50 feet. Then we had to get out and pull the pirogue over a shallow bar and deadfall. The water was warm as we stepped out of the boat and pulled it over the shallow bar, dragging the pirogue’s bottom on the sand and clay river bottom. At the end of the sand bar, the deadfall had diverted the water to create a waist deep hole immediately downstream from it. Getting the pirogue over the deadfall was easier and drier than getting back into the pirogue from waist-deep water.
Before long, Kenny and I were actually floating over a deep downstream hole, with a generous 3 inches of gunwale out of the water. I reckoned the wake of a ½-grown muskrat crossing our drift might put us in jeopardy, but the little craft slid quietly through the water for about 50 feet. Then we had to get out and pull the pirogue over a shallow bar and deadfall. The water was warm as we stepped out of the boat and pulled it over the shallow bar, dragging the pirogue’s bottom on the sand and clay river bottom. At the end of the sand bar, the deadfall had diverted the water to create a waist deep hole immediately downstream from it. Getting the pirogue over the deadfall was easier and drier than getting back into the pirogue from waist-deep water.
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| Photo from Panoramio |
The upper Tuxachanie is not conducive to fly rodding. It is overgrown, narrow, and mostly fishable by creative spin casting. Fortunately, I threw some ultra-light spinning gear into the pirogue when I saw the stream earlier from the take-out bridge. The banks of the Tuxachanie are 4-12 feet high and overgrown to the point that it often feels like floating through a tunnel of foliage. The surrounding forest is an impassible swamp infested with snakes and alligators.
The fishing technique on the upper Tuxachanie is a prime example of what I call sequential fishing. It goes something like this: float and fish for 50 feet, get out, pull the pirogue over a deadfall, float and fish for 50 feet, get out, pull the pirogue over some shallows, float and fish for 50 feet, get out, pull the Pirogue over a deadfall ... and so on.
"So where is the fly fishing stretch?" I asked Kenny after about an hour of floating and fishing for 50 feet, getting out, pulling the pirogue over a deadfall, floating and fishing for 50 feet, getting out, pulling the pirogue over some shallows, and floating and fishing for 50 feet.
"I don’t know, I’ve never floated this stretch before" Kenny informed me. I corrected him by reminding him that, after an hour, we still hadn’t floated the Tuxachanie. We did manage to catch a few sunfish, and I even caught my first Spotted Bass; all four inches of him. Kenny taught me how to tell a Spotted Bass from a Largemouth Bass (the jawbone of a Spotted Bass does not extend past it eye).
I learned that fishing from a pirogue is different than fishing from other boats. Most people use boats to stay dry. Pirogue fishing is wet fishing. After a few trips in and out of the pirogue, it was hard to tell the difference between the inside of the boat and the stream. Kenny said the stream has flowing water but once, while standing on a sand bar, I suggested we empty the pirogue before the fish died from lack of water in the stream.
"Are you sure this is the Tuxachanie?" I asked Kenny as I glanced at my watch. It was 1:00 p.m. and I still could hear no signs of traffic. We had been on the stream, no, in the stream for five hours. I told my wife I expected about a four-hour float and that I would probably be home about 1:00 in the afternoon.
"I don’t know, I’ve never floated this stretch before." Kenny said. There was a long silence. We were both considering how long it would take if we were actually on a remote tributary to the Amazon. Realizing that it may be a longer trip than anticipated, we began to forego fishing to float 50 feet, get out, pull the pirogue over a deadfall, float 50 feet, get out, and pull the Pirogue over some shallows. There were better holes, more open to fly rodding on the lower end of the trip, but the afternoon sun was beginning to slide into the swampy forest. A couple vultures sat in the trees above us watching with eager anticipation.
We finally met another fly-fisherman working his way upstream who informed us we were about a quarter mile from the take-out bridge. It was 4:00 p.m. and we were tired, wet, and thirsty (our water ran out two hours earlier) when we beached the pirogue on the sand bar just above the bridge. We carried our gear up to Kenny’s truck, then unceremoniously pulled the pirogue up the bank and loaded it into the truck. Kenny had indeed given me a memorable fishing trip. The only casualty we suffered was a paddle that I broke trying to pole the pirogue over some shallows. Kenny said it had taken him years to develop the worn patina and proper cracking in that paddle.
"Kenny, I’m exhausted but I have to admit that I thoroughly enjoyed this trip." I said. "I’d like to do it again, but next time let’s not drag that damn pirogue along." Kenny just grinned as he poured some water into his leaky radiator.
The fishing technique on the upper Tuxachanie is a prime example of what I call sequential fishing. It goes something like this: float and fish for 50 feet, get out, pull the pirogue over a deadfall, float and fish for 50 feet, get out, pull the pirogue over some shallows, float and fish for 50 feet, get out, pull the Pirogue over a deadfall ... and so on.
"So where is the fly fishing stretch?" I asked Kenny after about an hour of floating and fishing for 50 feet, getting out, pulling the pirogue over a deadfall, floating and fishing for 50 feet, getting out, pulling the pirogue over some shallows, and floating and fishing for 50 feet.
"I don’t know, I’ve never floated this stretch before" Kenny informed me. I corrected him by reminding him that, after an hour, we still hadn’t floated the Tuxachanie. We did manage to catch a few sunfish, and I even caught my first Spotted Bass; all four inches of him. Kenny taught me how to tell a Spotted Bass from a Largemouth Bass (the jawbone of a Spotted Bass does not extend past it eye).
I learned that fishing from a pirogue is different than fishing from other boats. Most people use boats to stay dry. Pirogue fishing is wet fishing. After a few trips in and out of the pirogue, it was hard to tell the difference between the inside of the boat and the stream. Kenny said the stream has flowing water but once, while standing on a sand bar, I suggested we empty the pirogue before the fish died from lack of water in the stream.
"Are you sure this is the Tuxachanie?" I asked Kenny as I glanced at my watch. It was 1:00 p.m. and I still could hear no signs of traffic. We had been on the stream, no, in the stream for five hours. I told my wife I expected about a four-hour float and that I would probably be home about 1:00 in the afternoon.
"I don’t know, I’ve never floated this stretch before." Kenny said. There was a long silence. We were both considering how long it would take if we were actually on a remote tributary to the Amazon. Realizing that it may be a longer trip than anticipated, we began to forego fishing to float 50 feet, get out, pull the pirogue over a deadfall, float 50 feet, get out, and pull the Pirogue over some shallows. There were better holes, more open to fly rodding on the lower end of the trip, but the afternoon sun was beginning to slide into the swampy forest. A couple vultures sat in the trees above us watching with eager anticipation.
We finally met another fly-fisherman working his way upstream who informed us we were about a quarter mile from the take-out bridge. It was 4:00 p.m. and we were tired, wet, and thirsty (our water ran out two hours earlier) when we beached the pirogue on the sand bar just above the bridge. We carried our gear up to Kenny’s truck, then unceremoniously pulled the pirogue up the bank and loaded it into the truck. Kenny had indeed given me a memorable fishing trip. The only casualty we suffered was a paddle that I broke trying to pole the pirogue over some shallows. Kenny said it had taken him years to develop the worn patina and proper cracking in that paddle.
"Kenny, I’m exhausted but I have to admit that I thoroughly enjoyed this trip." I said. "I’d like to do it again, but next time let’s not drag that damn pirogue along." Kenny just grinned as he poured some water into his leaky radiator.
Royal Dun
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