Stripers, Sunsets and Solitude - Elephant Butte, New Mexico offers delightful desert adventure

A loon's lonely cry penetrated the cool desert breeze. To the west, a brilliant explosion of gold glory painted the horizon behind silhouettes of the San Andres Mountains. To the east, swam the huge striped bass of New Mexico's Elephant Butte Reservoir.

Not only does the remote setting of the Southwest's premiere striper lake add to the expeditionary feel of its trophy fish hunts, it also provides a serene and beautiful setting for one to relax and enjoy a vacation.

It took a full day for Ben Pinnell, Steve Brigman and I to wash off the city and the journey across the Permian Basin. A broken axle has added another day in El Paso, but we were finally onboard Frankie Urzetta's boat, Reel Serious, enjoying the company and chasing big fish.

Steve hurled a seven-inch chrome redfin toward the shore. The orange glow of the sunset made it change colors as Steve grunted from chunking the huge bait. It splashed and twitched back and forth over the waves.

"The wind can make it tough to cast, but guys," Frankie promised in his slightly Buffalo, New York accent. "We want a little chop on the water, you know. It makes the fishing much better."

I watched Steve and Ben chunk and wind, casting their baits within inches of the shore and dragging them slowly, just beneath and on the surface, leaving a growing V-shaped wake behind. They were locked in anticipation, ready to battle a big one.

I had already lucked out the day before, so I turned and soaked in more moments of the now reddening sunset. The rough, majestic mountains surrounding the lake create some of the most spectacular and relaxing sunsets. I don't know whether it is simply because it is so different from home that makes the trip so interesting, or the fact that I like sitting on the boat with friends, listening to nature and the sound of line coming off the reels. Sprinkled with an occasional laugh and an occasional fish, it causes Elephant Butte to remain carved deep into my memory.

"I'm sure glad you guys are here." Frankie said.

"Yeah, we had a little more trouble getting here this time," I said.

"Don't even start with that. I'm here and I don't want to think about El Paso until I'm on the way home." Ben piped in.

"All right," John snapped "Then let¹s talk about the fact that you can' catch ..."

"Uh, shut up ""

Whoompf!

Ben interrupted as he set th@??
??????<???? striper that exploded on his bait.

"Fish on! Ah yeah, he's a good one." Ben turned the fish toward the boat as he started reeling, "This is awesome, I love ya, Frankie!"

Ben gets a little excited when he catches a fish - alone worth the price of admission - and he had been wanting to catch this one since he was last on "The Butte"  six months earlier.

When he brought the silver monster under control, he turned back to smile at us. The fish must have sensed his slight relaxation and took a 45-degree turn away from the back end of the boat, curling Ben's rod underneath and around the motor. We could see the power of the striper in the bend of the rod and in how quickly Ben's jaw dropped as he held on. His gaping mouth soon turned into an uncontrollable smile and then freewheeling laughter as he got the rod up in a more comfortable position and fought the fish to the boat.

After all the commotion, Ben took a seat next to Frankie and started to enjoy the scenery. Steve continued chunking the redfin.

"What is it about this lake Frankie? Is it the clear water, the 200-foot depths, what? Why do these fish pull so darn hard.?" Ben asked.

"I don¹t know, Ben. All of the fish come from Texas. You guys have the best fish and wildlife management people in the country. We get all our stripers from you. They just like to grow real big here." Frankie said, adjusting the trolling motor to keep Steve the right distance from the shore.

"We want our guys (New Mexico Game & Fish Department) to stock more fish, but they are concentrating on black bass, right now." Frankie lamented. "Our smallmouth are no problem. They're here, they're big, you know, and they are going to stay here. The stripers, though, our numbers are dropping a little. We still have the monsters, but we all want some more of those fish in here. With our water and amounts of baitfish, we can handle a lot more fish."

"Your smallmouth alone are enough to keep people coming," I reassured Frankie, "But add to it the fact that you might catch a 30 to 50 pound striper, plus you might catch them on a fly, you know there will always be anglers trying to get to Elephant Butte."

We both smiled, big smiles, thinking of the big fish. I couldn¹t stand it and started feverishly chunking my redfin again. There was a hypnotic effect to watching the baits wobble across the surface, expecting an explosion any minute Å maybe that fish of a lifetime that takes two people to hold up for the picture.
Steve¹s bait erupted and shot out of the water about two feet.

"Holy mackerel, did you see that?" Steve begged.

"Yeah, yeah, get it back out there. He¹s hungry," Frankie said, pointing and steering. "Keep your bait moving. Don't stop it."

Splash ... jerk ... jerk ... wham! The redfin was nabbed, slammed onto the water and then taken deep. When his first fish hit, Steve set the hook at the sight of the strike and pulled the bait away from the fish. This time he took the extra half second and waited to feel the weight of the fish on his line. Then he really leaned into it and set the hook hard.

Steve landed his memory, ending any anxiety we had about the fishing: we all got one. That allowed the sunset to be perfect: the end of a day where everything went right. Relishing the end of a great day of fishing is like enjoying the last coals of a campfire; I felt warm inside.

On the boat ride in, the water turned to glass reflecting the now purple and red sky. Scenes such as that are hard to come by. They are special.

Not even knowing about the extra large smallmouth bass we would catch the next day, I could have ended my vacation right there that night.

But the end would come soon enough. Heading back to the normal life is the hardest part of a vacation, but it is the not being normal that makes it special. A fresh atmosphere and a fresh outlook help us when we get back to that daily grind

As we turned the truck south and headed toward Truth or Consequences, the long drive back to Dallas seemed a trivial consequence to the simple truth that the trip to Elephant Butte is always worth whatever it takes to get there.