REJUVENATED:
Lake Fork is Still the King

By John W. Nix

click here for lake fork slide show

LAKE FORK - The sun wasn’t up and it was cold, but the cafe was bustling and the coffee was warm. Inside were 20 of the area’s top guides, a handful of brass from the Texas Parks & Wildlife Department and a gathering of fellow outdoor writers from across the nation. The reason we were there was simple: a chance to fish the legend.

The Lake Fork Sportsman’s Association’s First Annual Media Event started out with freezing temperatures, but that didn’t diminish the excitement and the stories at breakfast. Everyone knew the sun would come up and we all knew big fish were waiting. Richard McCarty, LFSA president finalized the list of which journalist went with which guide. There was a little game of musical chairs, a couple of jokes and the conversations started again.

Except now they all turned to water temperature. I was lucky. I was listening to Mark Stevenson, former state largemouth record holder for six years (a 17-pound, 10-ounce fish named Ethel) and expert jig fisherman.

In a subdued tone, Mark said, “I’ve been catching some out of the grass, (then softer), but I'm banking on the honey hole once the sun is up.”

I knew the fish would be slow to bite in the 48 degree or colder water. There are two basic ways to fish Fork in very early spring: fling a rattle trap; or throw something else very slow and enticing. I was about to get a good lesson in the latter.

We filled up with coffee and drove to the northeast arm of the lake. Soon we were ripping across the waves. As the cold tears started to form in my eyes, Mark let off the gas and sat back. In that same subdued tone, he motioned up with the bill of his cap towards the top of a tree, “bald eagle.”

Proudly perched on a high branch was the white-crested, majestic bird. Two blinks and the bright yellow beak came into focus. We sat motionless, in awe, time suspended while the boat slowed.

Then, the switch in my brain said camera, and I reached for the camera bag.

“Too late.” Mark said.

-We watched him fly for a second then Mark hit the gas and headed for the sunny side of a creek inlet. Covered with boat docks, the inlet started near deep water and crept in getting smaller until it was just a creek. The docks stopped about halfway in.

“This cold, this early, and this near deep water, let’s start with some rattle traps.” Mark said as the trolling motor eased us near the point.

It wasn’t what I thought the famous jig angler would start with, but I tied one on and let it fly. The big heavy lures are great – chunk and wind, chunk and wind. It didn’t take long and we were warmed up.

We fished and talked about different lakes and seasons, all the time I was waiting for him to switch to a jig. After about 15 minutes, he said under his breath, “That’s about enough of this,” and then continued louder, "I'm switchin’ to a jig.”

“Do you want me to stop throwing this big rattly thing?” I asked.

“Nah, that’s a good bait. You throw what you want to.” he said as he pitched his jig about an inch from one of the back dock poles. Chunk and wind, chunk and wind, chunk and wind. On my third cast, I looked over at him. He was still on about his fifth twitch of the first cast.

“I can get you a jig. If you want one?”

“Yeah, give my arm a rest.”

“I hear ya,” he replied, “Take this one.” It was a blue-and-black Mark Stevenson jig made by the Johnson Bait Company.

“Sure is pretty. I bet it’ll catch fish too.” I said noting that I had just gotten my first lesson in jig fishing. Don't throw a jig when your anxious or just getting started. Once you get settled in and warmed up, then you will properly fish the jig and be patient enough to feel the subtle strike.

“This is how we’ve been catching ‘em. Throw it back up in that flooded grass and just gently work it out,” he said lighting a new cigar. “There were some good fish in here a couple of days ago ... this freeze last night ... I don”t know ... we’ll see.”

I continued watching and repeating. A couple of casts later he continued the lesson.

“This is old-time spring fishin’, throw at anything and everything.”

To do that you have to go slow. Bouncing the jig slowly through the warmer water will sometimes entice a lethargic fish that might not be active enough to chase down a rattle trap or spinner bait, which is only in the strike zone for a second.I concentrated on my timing, being sure not to rush or outcast the guide. Once we were fishing in sync, he continued. “They’re not used to this much water, this cold of water, this off-colored of water ...”

These factors are consequences of nature. I mean we actually had a winter in Texas this year, and it has actually rained.

“... and all those gates have been open and running. They’re all right when water is coming in, but when those gates are open and it’s getting yanked out, them ol’ Floridas get so hard to catch it's unbelievable.”

My expectations really sank.

“They’re not real easy right now. They (The Sabine River Authority) closed the gates a couple of days ago.” He paused,then concluded with the lighting of another cigar, “Today, tomorrow, this ol’ gal will produce. Someone will catch a bunch of fish.”

My expectations rejuvenated, we bounced from dock to dock trying and waiting. Waiting for the water to warm and trying to entice a lunker.

“Forty nine point eight ... it’s slowly rising.” Mark said as we got to where the creek started getting shallow.

We fished to the back of the cove and found 52-degree water, but no fish. The coots were feeding and the inlet had vegetation and a sandy bottom.

“You’d think there would be one up here feeding. Later, during the spring this bank will be lined with fish,” Mark said as he raised the trolling motor. “We’ll switch to Plan B and then work our way to a honey hole. I thought we would have landed one by now. I mean we’re here to show you how good the fishing is,” Mark lamented.

“Don’t worry,” I interrupted. “I know there are still plenty of big fish in this lake Mark. I wouldn’t mind seeing one, but this cold front has got them all lockjawed.”

-

I told him the story Steve Brigman wrote about his trip with Rick Loomis during the “fish kill” hype and how they still caught plenty of great fish in the heat of the summer.

“Let's face it,” I continued, “Lake Fork still put seven fish in the ShareLunker Program last year, when the fishing was ‘reportedly’ terrible. That’s way more than any other lake!”

“Yeap,” Mark agreed. “There are still big fish here and plenty of healthy fish. When a champion has a bad day, they get a lot of bad press.”

People’s expectations are high when they fish Lake Fork. There is a heap of folklore and legend about Fork, and it was only built 21 years ago. Lately I have overheard conversations about trips that produced a 10-pounder that sounds like this: “... the fishing wudn’t that good, you know, fer Fork.”

Well excuse me, but that is just plain spoiled. Just about anywhere in the world that’s a darn good day. Most anglers never see a bass that big except on the television.

“Yeap,” we both agreed as the boat made the turn under the bridge and we came to the sunny side of the rip-rap.

“Get ready, this is where we’ll get 'em. The water is three degrees warmer on this side,” Mark said as positioned the boat parallel to the road that provided the structure. “Pitch it up there easy and just drag it back. You can feel it step down the edge.”

The roadside stair-stepped down into the water and my earlier jig lesson paid off. With just slight twitches, the jig will rise and fall to the next step. If you picture that in your head, you can see why the fish pick up my jig.

I felt just a slight nudge. I tensed up and concentrated harder looking at my line. I wound down tightening to the jig and felt another nudge. Was it a stick or was it a fish?

“If you feel it, stick it. You won't get a second chance in this cold water.”

I yanked. “Got 'em! ... duck!” Missed him. The jig went passed my head and landed on the other side of the boat.

“Well, we know they are here,” Mark consoled me as he lit another cigar.

Plop and drag is much more subtle than chunk and wind. I missed another fish while getting the camera equipment ready. “53 degrees.” was the only consolation Mark gave that time.-

Then I heard that lovely sound that only comes when an angler tightens every muscle stretching the line and bending the pole on a big fish.

Whissp. “Got her!”

We were 20 feet from the edge, the fish hit about 10 feet from the boat and Mark’s rod tip was in the water, pole flexing. “Yes sir, this is a healthy one, isn’t it?” Mark accentuated the pull of the fish on every syllable.

She was a big fish. Through the video camera I could see her brilliant, broad, green side, “Do you need a net?” I asked. Mark fought her around the front and then she came along side and Mark got a hand in her mouth.

Click, click, click. We had what we came for. The fish seemed in perfect health and weighed nine pounds. Looking through the viewfinder, I inched forward for a closer shot and Mark released her back into the lake. We smiled as she kicked her tail in defiance and swam back to her hole.

“Hungry?” Mark asked.

“Yeap, I am now.” I replied as I patted the camera.

We hoped the others had caught fish too. After all, the reason for the event was to promote Lake Fork. It wasn’t an individual competition. Lake Fork has become the model of modern fishing lakes. The fishing communities at most lakes are hoping that their fishing industry can rank economic-wise with Lake Fork eventually.

The Texas Parks & Wildlife Department was there to point out that big fish are big business. Fork’s 27,690 surface acres, contributes almost $30 million in economic activity for the surrounding area annually. That’s 30 million reasons for TP&W to not want the jewel of the Texas fishing crown to keep a black eye.

In their press conference that night, they provided studies and reports before and after the “fish kill” from the largemouth bass virus. Their reports showed no decline in baitfish amounts or brood size fish. This is the first major virus that they have been able to gather data on, so conclusions on infections in largemouth bass can only be premature. Each day, a study is conducted, more data is gathered and the more we know. Sam Rayburn has survived the same virus. Survived and rebounded.

The only data that is actually obtainable shows that Lake Fork has healthy bait fish and healthy fish in all size ranges. Fork has survived and rebounded. The effects of controlled size limits and the stocking program are working to keep Lake Fork a world-famous bass lake.

There were journalists from Kansas, Utah and several different states attending the event. Their eyes were as wide as silver dollars when they saw the ShareLunker display board with some 10 fish over 13 pounds. It is an impressive display, but the Texas writers have seen it before.

When they opened the conference for questions, the first question was from Kansas, “How can we have these fish in Kansas?”

The biologist’s answer was short and sweet, “It's too cold, they can't make it.”

Kansas’ reply, “Then, if you want to promote this lake, just take this board on a tour of Kansas. They will come running.”

The questions went on, but the enthusiasm of Kansas was the key for me. The fishing is still good on Lake Fork, we just forgot how great we had it. My outlook was refreshed. It was the same with the guides. A freezing morning had them worried that the fish might not cooperate with their media event.

The news of a nine-pounder on a freezing morning lifted spirits at lunch. All participants hit the water again with renewed vigor.

At breakfast the next morning, stories and laughter filled the room. Tables of guides and writers joked.

More boats caught fish in the afternoon and more journalists got pictures. The Sportsman's Association’s event was working. Everyone was having a wonderful time and planned to continue doing so throughout the day.

We switched guides on the second day. I turned around and introduced myself to Jesse Parker. He is a firecracker. He had to tell two different stories about fishing in the Amazon before we could get out the door. Once on the lake, we turned right and went to the east side of the lake.

“We’re going to hook rattle traps on trees, and then every once in a while we’ll snag a fish,” Jesse said with a smile. “We’re in about 15 to 10 feet, just rip it back through the trees.”

The standing timber was a little tight, but there were still plenty of openings to cast through. Thump. I set the hook. Yeah, my first stump of the day. Two casts later I got another one. “I can’t believe I got hung twice so fast.”

“Don’t worry” Jesse replied, “If you’re not hitting trees, you’re not throwing in the right place.”

“We were in here yesterday. I was with Del Owens of Utah. When the water warmed up, the fish were chasing the lures to the boat. He couldn’t believe it. Their state record is only 11 pounds in Utah and he had about a five-ponder slap his bait right next to the boat ... I thought he was going to have a coronary right there,” Jesse continued.

Chunking and winding, our conversation continued on Lake Fork and how good a lake it is. He talked about the association and the plans they have for a tournament catch-and-release boat. We talked about tournaments and tall tales, then somewhere along the line, the end of my finger triggered a reaction in my brain.

My pole was above my head and I was reeling. I was more surprised than Jesse that I had gotten a good hook set. I had been talking, not fishing. The fish pulled to the left and then a pull to the right. It wasn’t until it jumped that in slow motion I saw the rattle trap had only one hook barely through the lip. Another jump and I would probably loose it. Luckily, Jesse was there to help.

We found 53 degree water a little shallower and continued to catch trees. Don Hampton, a local writer, joined us in our warmer cove in his boat with a buddy. With one fish caught, we all relaxed and started telling jokes and having fun. When Jesse started singing on the front of the boat, we were all reminded that fishing isn’t just about fish; it’s about having fun.

“Instead of catching trees, we can always do a little rappin’, it’s called: -

Lure, Lure, Ah Baby I got to Fish

Now top water fishing was my claim to fame.

I cast my spook with careful aim.

Jerkin' and a twistin', just a walkin' the dog.

Knowing there is a bass by the hollow log.

Seven foot six is the rod for me

I'll take my jig and toss it under that tree.

Make it black and Blue

With a crawdad too.

Lure, lure. Ah baby I got to fish!

“Whoa, hate to interrupt.”

It wasn’t me who interrupted his gracious singing. It was a green, scaled lady that was hungry. This one was a little bigger. It brought more laughter to the cove. After releasing the fish and a couple more casts, I asked Jesse to start singing again; it seemed to bring good luck.

The jokes continued to fly. Don was keeping his boat back, off the good water where Jesse had us fishing, and while trying to reach in with his lure, he made a perfect three time wrap and lock around a limb. Jesse piped in, “Hampton, the fish are a little deeper than that.”

“But it’s OK Jesse, I have my hunting license.” Don replied.

Laughing, Jesse started into another song (in the melody of Don't Worry, Be Happy), “Here is a song that I did not write, but it might help you get a bite. Don’t worry, catch crappie. When the cold north wind blows and the bass she says ‘oh, no, no.’ Don’t worry, catch crappie. And when the sun, she goes down, and there’s no bass to be found. Don’t worry, catch crappie.”

He immediately stopped singing when he lifted his bait from the water. “Did you see that? Four shad were chasing my lure right to the boat. That’s a good sign.” I never did hear the end of that song, because when Jesse started singing, Don’s partner had a slight problem.

Jesse was interrupted by the sound of air escaping. The cove again erupted in laughter as Jesse said, “Sounds like someone broke wind over there.”

It wasn’t wind. It was CO2. He had his self-inflating life preserver on automatic. A slight drizzle had set the mechanism off and his jacket filled with CO2. As shocked as we were, but not laughing as loud, he turned his back to Don and refused to let him get a picture.

When we settled down, Jesse remarked to Don, “Mr. Nix had no idea what he was getting into when he got on this boat. He’s thinking, that old gray haired man is crazy...”

“Crazy but fun.” I injected.

Jesse sang another song and then started one that even I could figure out.

“In my boat again, I just can’t wait to get in my boat again. The kind of life I love is fishing with my friends. I just can’t wait to get in my boat again.”

I joined him in the chorus letting my lure stop about five feet from the boat. When I lifted my lure again; it was attacked.

Whoom. I was struggling to hold onto the rod. The fish went straight under the boat. It turned toward the bow with most of my rod still under the boat. Jesse could tell this was a nice fish and could, like me, do nothing but laugh. After turning her toward the back, the fish somehow appeared on the other side of the motor. Jesse was quick with the net and landed the biggest fish caught by a media member that weekend. What luck.

As you can guess, we weren’t exactly quiet after catching that one either. I guess the hour or so of complete laughter was more than one boat could take. As we turned into the next cove a boat was pulling out.

“Missouri boys,” Jesse said. “I saw them in here yesterday, they must have seen us catch some fish and came back.” I waited for an editorial comment about fishing his hole, but was pleasantly surprised as he continued, “They’re just like us, trying to get bit. They’re slinging blades, so it won’t bother us.”

We trolled a little closer and they waited to start their big motor.

“Having any luck?” Jesse started and then continued, giving them a little help, “Yeah ... yeah, this time of year about all you can do is look for warm water and throw a rattle trap ‘til you catch a fish or your arm falls off.”

“A rattle trap? Is that the ticket?” they asked.

“Yeah, around that next corner, follow the bank until the temp rises then wear ‘em out.”

Jesse finished as we passed by, “Remember, it only takes one cast, then I'd be your hero.”

They nodded and turned the corner like Jesse had suggested. People from all over fish Lake Fork. There isn't a weekend in the spring where you won't find at least three different states license plates in any given parking lot.

“I have a customer that comes every year from Japan.” Jesse said, “I went to visit him and fish Beaver Lake in Japan. They would get so excited there when they catch a two pound bass, but every angler knew about Lake Fork in Texas. I gave out all 200 cards in the first day.”

And that’s how legends are born. Big fish and good times along with proper management have given the little hole in Wood and Raines Counties a big reputation as the place to go to catch big fish. Part of the Fork mystique is the truth in the statement that every cast provides the opportunity to break the state record. That helps make Fork a legend worth preserving and still the king.

I have fished Fork several times this spring since the event. And thanks to the Lake Fork Sportsman’s Association’s Media Event, Mark Stevenson, Jesse Parker and a host of other guides, each trip has been a renewed quest for my monster lunker: a quest now invigorated with a rejuvenated spirit of challenge, adventure and appreciation.