Everything is extreme in Texas!

Texas is a remarkable place in almost every way. A state larger than many countries (nearly three times the size of the U.K.). People whose welcome is friendly and genuine, with the assumption that everyone is a good guy until proven otherwise (be careful, they have lots of guns). And a land where nature, climate and, in our particular area of interest, the fish, are truly extreme!

The USA is huge in many ways 50 different countries and cultures grouped under the ambitious, if not in recent times, dubiously, titled the 'United' States of America. I live in Massachusetts, one of the small states in the New England region in the North East. Texas is a long way away, both culturally and in distance from Texas—approximately 1,800 miles. Our climates are considerably different, too. In the Boston area, winters are bitter, cold and long. Texans, on the other hand, reach for suntan lotion all year round, with extreme heat in the summer months and a pleasant, t-shirt-only weather during the winter. 

Back in 2014, I wrote a few articles for a U.S. magazine that is sadly no longer in publication. During this time, I made acquaintance with Austin Anderson, another regular contributor to what was CarpPro magazine, who happened to live in Texas. Austin's photos were stop you in your tracks extreme. Huge fish, enormous waters and wild adventures the like of which many of us Brits have never experienced. I remember reading of numerous rods boated out considerable distances on lakes that looked like oceans while the sun shone and an aroma of BBQ drifted across rippling waters. And then the fish, Carp, Buffalo, Bass and Catfish, all in true Texas-style, super-sized proportions. 

A reconnection with Austin last year sparked the idea of a trip. Austin runs CarpPro Texas Guide Service, so he has all the kit required to visit without me needing to travel with lots of fishing tackle. What really appealed to me was dodging the Massachusetts winter for a few days and stepping into the sunshine, t-shirts and big fish. Yes, please! Plans were made for the first week of February.

Numerous messages were exchanged before we agreed on the idea of starting out on Lake Fork, two hours west of Dallas. Finally, I arrived on a Monday in the late afternoon, just as the sun was setting. 24 degrees Celsius / 75 degrees Fahrenheit at 5 pm in early February = fantastic! As I loaded my single suitcase into the back of the car, I had the smug smile of an Englishman about to enjoy some winter sun—or so I thought.

The week before my arrival, had seen Texas experiences some truly abnormal weather – snow and ice. The southern states of the U.S. rarely see snow, so they are not apt to deal with such weather. Thankfully my arrival coincided with a shift in weather, with snow not being in the forecast and rain instead. While rain clearly wasn't the dream, I wasn't fazed as an Englishman.

Arriving at any water in the dark is always hard. Thankfully, Austin had photos of the area we were fishing from a previous trip, so I had some idea. Slowly we set up quite a camp, with Austin towing an impressive trailer laden with every imaginable item of fishing tackle you could ever require. I positioned three rods on a shallower bar, approximately two hundred yards to the right of an underwater forest of trees. The topography of Lake Fork is as immense as its size, at a little over 26,000 acres with bays, bars and sunken trees standing 40ft tall with only 10ft above water level. We choose Lake Fork because of its potential to provide a really big fish. For me, a big Buffalo, or Buff as they are known and of course a carp or two was the goal. Buffalo are not part of the carp family, although their appearance as albino-like commons often confuses them. Lake Fork has some monsters swimming in its depths. Last year Austin banked three Buffalo weighing over 60lb! 50+ fish are not uncommon, and 40s are present in number. Austin told me one story when he was guiding somebody who received a triple take of three 40lb+ buffs!

Exhausted from a long day's travel, I fell asleep quickly in one of Austin's many bivvies he was kind enough to lend me. The night was quiet, with only a few small Catfish disturbing the silence. As the new day dawned, the water looked huge and relatively barren. We saw little signs of fish, so we decided to bait an area with Austin's kayak to draw them in. As the sunset on the first day, rain began to fall. During the night, the rain kept coming and coming and coming. Thunder and lightning shook the sky with vibrations felt from the warmth of my sleeping bag and bedchair. Thankfully, the rods remained silent as huge raindrops pelted the bivvy. Eventually, I slept, waking to the strange sensation of swinging my feet down from the bedchair and experiencing wet socks as my feet hit the groundsheet. The water had risen overnight. We needed to move the gear back as the run-off from neighbouring fields continued to lift the levels for some hours after the storm. Mid-way through the pack down and set up procedure, my righthand rod received a bite resulting in a low twenty common. Fortunately, both the fish and the bivvy move occurred during a break in the rain. As I returned the fish, the rain returned and stayed for the day, with Austin catching a similar size common during the afternoon. The following night was also slow, with nothing unusual happening until about 4 am when I caught a catfish. Catching a catfish in Texas is not uncommon; however, the bizarre sensation that occurred when I exited the bivvy to reach the rod was an experience I had never experienced before. My boots were instantly wet. I assumed I had stepped into a puddle, so I jumped a couple of feet to the left. It happened again. I jumped again. Confused, I flicked the switch on my headtorch, illuminating the water around us. We were in it. Both bivvies, rods, bedchairs and Austin's camp and trailer were all now part of Lake Fork. As the day broke, we learned that the water level had increased by 18 inches in 36 hours. How on earth does that happen over a 27,000-acre lake?! We were done. We had to get out of there before the water continued to rise and leave us in serious trouble.

We moved an hour west, setting up for the night on a smaller lake of *only 9,000 acres. We set up on the high ground and were grateful that no rain was due for the remainder of the trip. Rods were cast to a gentle drop-off and baited with boilies and mixed particles. As the sunset, a gentle breeze began blowing directly into our area. At first, this pleased me. Then the wind intensified and grew in strength overnight to 20 miles, with guests far exceeding that number—no doubt exaggerated by the open water of several thousand acres. By morning we were done. Again. The leads couldn't hold bottom, and the bivvies were in serious trouble—time for another move. With only 8 hours remaining of the trip, Austin suggested a small pond near the airport. At 50 acres, the lake looked like a little puddle. Rods were quickly cast, with the pleasant sight of fish showing towards the middle. As I sat despondent and genuinely beaten up by the conditions of the last few days, I received a take on my left-hand rod. I played it expecting another catfish. Austin's cry of, it's a Buff soon put a smile on my face. With the weigh sling blowing in the wind we recorded a very honest weight of 29lb14 (looked and felt 30 all day long). Weight aside, it was great to catch a Buff. By Texas standards, just a baby, but fantastic all the same! A little after mid-day Austin landed a Buff of similar size. As the sun was beginning to set, I wound in and headed for the airport.

Upon reflection, my trip was nothing like I had hoped. Texas's extreme weather changed everything. I was exhausted, tired, and so ready to head for home. Austin was a great host with extensive knowledge and perhaps even more important, fantastic company. Anyone dreaming about a fishing adventure where truly massive fish are an option should contact Austin (google him CarpPro Texas Guide). My regret was time of year. A few weeks later would have been a very different scenario. Writing this still provokes the horrible feeling of being flooded out (twice)! I need that memory to fade. When it has, I'll be headed back to Texas!