It felt like I’d just fallen asleep when our alarms sounded on the morning of day two. We packed up snacks and clothes for the day, grabbed the bag of fully charged Go Pro camera batteries, and applied more tape to the numerous cuts and scrapes we had all over our hands. Handling as many gar as we landed on day one does not come without some close encounters of the toothy kind. 

We met Cody in the dark again, this time at another ramp farther down the lake system. With bigger fish in mind today, we were all prepared to accept fewer bites for a chance at some true giants.  Again, Cody expertly navigated acres and acres of what looked like a submerged forest on the graph. This reservoir portion of the Trinity system is expansive, and in the dim morning light we could barely see the horizon we’d left when we reached our first stop. Carp and buffalo gently dimpled the glassy surface of the lake as we cut and casted our first baits. Another Texas sunrise painted the sky. 

We eventually got a run at this first location after an extended wait, and ended up boating a fish in the mid 40-inch range. After a quick release, we pulled our lines and motored to a second spot in hopes of finding a better size class of fish. A giant, startling swirl welcomed us to the little cove, confirming our hopes.

While deploying baits I expertly backlashed one of the big Penn conventional reels trying to put too much distance on a big hunk of cut carp.  Zach and I both worked on the reel for awhile, and as we came close to relieving the tangle the rod was suddenly being pulled out of our hands. With no way to pay line out to the fish and no other choice, Zach swung hard on the fish and missed. Never having enough time to let the fish engulf the bait, opportunity number 2 for the day had passed. We fished the spot out for another hour or so uneventfully, then decided to make a run across the lake. 

After about a 30 minute cruise, we pulled into the mouth of a large bay that seemed to be teeming with life. There were gar breaching all around us, swirling and throwing water as they went. We were as quiet as we could be as we anchored the boat and casted fresh baits. Just like yesterday, clickers began humming before we could even get all of the rods out. The fish in this area seemed to run with a bait in their teeth forever initially. Though we caught a few, others just ran on and on only to be completely missed when we either got low on line or grew too antsy and set the hook. For fish as large and aggressive as these were, it amazed me how delicately they could hold a piece of bait while they cruised around looking for a good place to stop and finish it off. Fish came in waves again, and in some cases we’d have four running at a time only to miss them all. We could see the fish rolling around us and knew there were some big ones in the mix, but just couldn’t seem to connect. 

After a brief lull in the action, two reels at the bow of the boat started clicking almost simultaneously. Zach and I each picked one up, and waited in anticipation while line steadily disappeared from our spools. My fish veered hard left toward another set line, so Cody picked up the third rod to clear it out of the way. Out of nowhere the rod he picked up bent over in his hands, and he immediately reacted by setting the hook. The rod bent into the handle as he traded me for the rod I was holding, with my fish still taking line on its initial run. As soon as I felt the weight of the fish he’d hooked, I knew it was in a class above anything we’d dealt with on this trip so far. Both of the other gar eventually dropped their respective baits without being hooked, and Zach and Cody worked to clear their lines away from the thrashing leviathan I was fighting. The fish took line at will, and after several jumps decided to launch at and under the boat. I had to drop to my knees on the deck to keep balanced, and bent the big saltwater blank into a full “C” shape as the fish continued peeling line to the other side of the boat. Cody’s lasso came out again as we knew there was no way to grab this fish by hand. The fish continued to display its power, taking line as I did my best to chase it around the boat in several full rotations. It came to the starboard side of the boat violently, making it nearly impossible to slip the lasso over its gaping jaws while it thrashed and punished the hull. But after several tense attempts, the loop was cinched and the fish was ours. 

We all grunted hoisting this one into the boat. I couldn’t believe the proportions of the thing, with girth well larger than my thigh running nearly the entire length of its 70+ inch frame. The fish’s tail was the size of a tennis racket at least, with a whole head full of teeth pushing close to an inch in length. I was shaking from the excitement of the fight and had to sit down to gather myself before we started taking any pictures. We were able to get the fish into my lap briefly,  but she was hard to control and her weight actually hurt my thighs even lying still. I opted to jump into the lake to get some better photos with the fish, and to protect it from potentially harming itself thrashing around in the boat. I had my doubts about not only entering the water with a predator of this caliber, but dozens of its friends swimming unseen all around us. But once in a lifetime opportunities are just that, once in a lifetime. In I went. The lasso came off and I did my best to hold the big fish as far out of the water as I could. It felt like lifting a section of telephone pole covered in metal plates. The fish was surprisingly placid in the water, though, and didn’t thrash or try to exact revenge on my nearby face. After a few good hero shots were taken, I patted the fish on the head thanking her for opportunity. The big torpedo slid right out of my arms and off into the green water as if she was never really there. I stood in the lake still shaking. We’d just done what we traveled all this way to do.

The day did not end there, though. We still had half of the day left, and as any fisherman knows you never leave a good bite. Knowing more fish of this caliber were lurking close to the boat, we baited back up and got the rods out. As I got dressed again I started to notice big welts across my chest and arms. Cody mentioned that along with having highly abrasive scales, gar slime can be irritating to human skin for a little while after contact. Battle scars accepted, we anticipated the next bite. We didn’t wait long before another reel sounded the alarm. Zach picked up the rod and slipped the clicker off as line melted from the spool. Assuming this was another giant, Cody suggested we reel in the other rods and follow the fish to give it more time to do its thing. Rods in, we slowly motored along behind the fish as it cruised the bay. The fish finally came to a stop in about 3 feet of water, and we waited as I tried to catch a glimpse of its size near the bottom. After a few seconds the fish started to move off again, and Zach engaged the reel and set the hook. The rod bent hard, then went completely slack. Assuming we’d missed the fish, Zach started reeling line back onto the spool. It was then that we noticed his float streak past the boat at warp speed, passing the bow at what seemed like 20 miles an hour. I could barely get the words “he’s still there!” out of my mouth before the line came tight and the rod bent in half, buckling Zach’s knees. The fish smoked off 40 yards of line in a quick burst, then turned on a dime and came right back at us. Zach did all he could to keep up, and as it sped past the boat again, a sickening “POP” sent the hook flying back toward him. We’d seen enough of the fish to know it was similar in size to the last one we’d landed, and knew there was nothing else we could have done to change what happened. Fishing for something this size does not come without its unique challenges, and sometimes the fish just simply win. 

We anchored where we had stopped this time, and sent baits back out all around the boat. About an hour passed, and though we had several more runs during this time we weren’t able to connect with another fish. Morale was slowly fading as the Texas sun grew high in the sky.  All fell quiet. 

Suddenly, a rod at the back of the boat erupted to life with line steadily screaming out into the calm water. Cody had a feeling this was another large fish, and suggested we follow it with the boat again. I was holding the reel in free-spool, and could barely keep my thumb on the spool without getting burned.  Zach and Cody cranked the other lines in as fast as they could but this fish meant business. The spool on the big Penn grew small in a hurry and starting to panic, I attempted to tell the guys we were low on line. I think I made it to “hey guys, we…” when the fish hit another gear and launched forward like a missile. I clamped my thumb down hard on the spool out of instinct, only to have my thumbnail broken in half as the last of the line on the reel was ripped out of the guides and into the water. “F!#k, he took it all!” I yelled. Cody dropped the boat into gear and headed in the direction the fish had been running. Dragging our remaining baits behind us, we steamed forward. Somehow, he actually managed to catch up to the tail end of the floating braid as it streaked across the water, and I handed Zach the empty rod as I dropped on my belly on the deck to grab it. 

The line felt slack, and we worked as fast as we could with trembling (and bleeding) hands to feed it through each guide and back to the reel. I was attempting to tie the line back onto the spool when Zach shouted “he’s still there!” I looked down to see the line come tight against his hands as the fish caught up to us and started to pull. Zach toughed it out holding the braid around his hands to give me enough slack to tie it back onto the spool. Past episodes of “River Monsters” flashed through my mind, as stories of people being pulled out of boats by hand lines became all too real. Finally I was able to calm my hands enough to finish the knot, and Zach let go of the line.

I was barely able to get three cranks on the handle when the angry fish bent the rod around the bow of the boat. Back in action! I did all I could to get some line back as the fish did his best to take it again.  Cody pushed the boat forward to give us a fighting chance, and that paid off in spades. I was able to gain more line and after several violent jumps the fish swung to the side of the boat. Cody snared it immediately, sealing the deal on what I thought was impossible. In total disbelief, we dragged the writhing dinosaur onto the deck. Getting completely spooled by a huge, prehistoric fish was demoralizing. Immediately running down the water skiing line and actually landing the fish was joy and redemption on a new level. Shaking and still bleeding, I muttered it again. “This place is no joke.”

This was another very large fish, estimated to be around 100 pounds. Not quite as large as the last one we’d landed, but more than a handful to say the least. The fish was a spectacular specimen, as vibrantly colored and spotted as it was large. These fish command respect, and holding one of this caliber in your arms is a fine balance of grace and self-preservation. Zach was able to get some really good photos of the fish before we slid him back into the lake. I hadn’t noticed my throbbing thumb until then, and wondered how I’d go about trying to tape part of my thumbnail back on while covered in gar slime. Fishing for species like bass, steelhead, and other highly sought after gamefish definitely has its place in my heart. But there’s nothing quite like the adrenaline rush of pursuing something that has no known maximum size and can hurt you with your own equipment. With the day now drawing to a close, we positioned the boat in one last spot and sent the Hail Mary baits out all around us. 

Our final stop was loaded with fish just like the last. We had a pile of runs, and managed to land a few more average sized gar before our time was up. We even ended the trip on a double header, just like we’d started it the day before. To say that this system is alive and well is an understatement. This section of the Trinity river seems to be thriving. After we’d packed in for the day, Cody went the extra mile and took us to look at a few bank spots we’d been scouting with satellite imagery for the coming evening. Our flight home wasn’t until the next afternoon, so Zach and I committed to spending as much time fishing as we could while we were here. Cody even gave us the last of the bait on his boat as a head start on our new mission. It was time to find and catch an alligator gar on our own. 

So it began. As the boat slid away from the bank into black, unfamiliar water, thoughts of the previous full day of travel trickled from my mind. After months of planning, a plane ride loaded down with rod tubes and gear, and a long drive south, here we stood above the famed waters of the Trinity river system in south Texas. Dinosaur country.

We arrived at the ramp well before dawn to meet Cody Cryer with Garzilla Alligator Gar Guide Service, our guide for the next two days of fishing. He assured us that we could get a good jump on the day by leaving right away, as long as we weren’t afraid of the dark. We laughed and loaded gear, half wondering how serious he was. After navigating through a labyrinth of standing and submerged timber, Cody pushed the big boat out toward the main lake basin. It’s a weird enough sensation for either Zach or myself to be riding in a boat driven by someone else, let alone on totally foreign water in a new state. But it served as a nice break from the duties and preparation of peak flathead season, and I found myself soaking in the ease of being taken fishing for a change.

It was still completely dark when we motored into our first fishing spot of the day. Cody slid the Power Poles down to lock the boat in place, and began to explain the theory behind the spot he’d chosen. I could hear some distant surface disturbance in different areas around the boat, and Cody nodded as if to answer my unspoken question. They were here.

We started tying up the prototype rods Zach had brought down to test as Cody went over rigging, bait, and hook-set procedure. We spoke in hushed tones in our best attempt to stay undetected in the remaining half hour of darkness. When the rods were ready to go, I leaned back and sat on the gunwale of the boat, my back toward the massive expanse of the lake. As if on cue, the black water erupted below me as a crushing thud pounded the side of the boat right below where I sat. Like a grenade went off, water splashed all three of us as an 8 foot wide swirl rocked the boat then dissipated back into nothing. Cody laughed out loud and just said “that was a good one.” We laughed out loud too, while I wondered if I remembered a clean change of shorts.  “This place is no joke” was the only thought on my mind.

We casted baits out in an even spread all around the boat, setting clickers and baitrunners into free-spool. Before we could even get all of the rods out, one of Cody’s bait-runners sounded the alarm of a steady run. Zach jumped up to grab the rod, and Cody reminded him of the wait time before setting the hook. Gar will run quite a ways before attempting to inhale a bait they’ve grabbed, so it’s crucial to wait for a pause in their first run before setting the hook. While we waited excitedly, another clicker buzzed loudly in the dark. I picked up this rod and slid the clicker off, waiting for the pause. Both fish seemed to stop at the same time, and when they started moving again we let them have it. Doubled up to start the trip! As the morning light grew we could see our fish thrashing the surface violently trying to shake the big treble hooks. Neither were giants, but a new species for both Zach and myself. Cody grabbed both fish and showed us how to best avoid getting slashed by their wicked mouth full of teeth. We posed for a quick picture, then sent the gar on their way. Success.

It wasn’t long before another set of runs shook us from our celebrating. We hadn’t even re-casted the first two rods when the second two took off. Zach and I followed procedure and soon another two angry gar made it to the boat. We released the fish and worked to get all four rods back out when a fifth rod buzzed violently. This was as wide open as it gets in apex predator fishing, and we couldn’t be happier. Cody mentioned that his boat record was 18 gar landed in a full day. The way things were going we all wondered how long that would last.

Rain started pelting the boat, and Cody slid the bimini top into place while Zach and I jumped into our rain gear. Fishing in the pouring rain was nothing new, and the fishing was so good we hardly noticed. There were occasional lulls in the action, but when a bait was taken it usually wasn’t the only one. On more than one occasion we had four rods clicking at a time. Most of these fish were around the same size, about 45 inches long. Big fish by many standards, but young for an alligator gar. We discussed the options available to give us our best shot at a true giant and decided that staying in actively feeding fish for the first day of the trip was a wise move. The rain finally slowed, but the bites kept coming.

At about 2:30 PM I picked up a steadily clicking reel and slid the clicker off as we’d done all day. This fish seemed to cruise a bit faster than the others, and it grew hard to wait for the telltale pause of a gar finally enjoying its meal. Then it came. When the fish began to move off again, I engaged the light saltwater Penn and hammered the rod back. Drag slipped hard on the hook set, and the heavy blank bent deep toward the handle. We all just looked at each other as water erupted about 70 yards from the boat. This was a good one. The fish bolted left and jumped again, peeling drag in the air. These fish are incredibly fast, and suddenly I found myself struggling to gain line fast enough to stay tight on it. The fish jumped a third time closer to the boat, and Cody grabbed a lasso from a storage box in the bow. The silver missile made a run at the boat, causing me to drop a knee on the gunwale to support the rod as the top half bent into the water and line peeled from the spool. When we got him turned around, the fish made several violent, thrashing jumps against the side of the boat before we were able to get the rope around it. Cody yanked the tail end of the lasso and cinched the fish tight behind the pec fins. We had him.

It took both Zach and I to drag this one into the boat, a thick brute of a gar pushing close to 6 feet long. Cody took a few quick measurements and estimated the fish close 80 pounds, making it easily my biggest freshwater fish to date. These fish are intimidating in close proximity, and can even cut you with their scales when thrashing around. Their skin is prehistoric armor, so well woven together that even bow fishermen have a hard time penetrating it with arrows. We managed to get the fish into my lap for a few quick pictures, then slid him back into the muddy water he came from. It was only the first day of the trip and we’d already gotten a taste of what big gator gar are all about. High fives all around, and bait back into the water.

The rest of the day flew past, and we ended up going on to break the boat record with 21 total gar landed. A lot of fish are missed on the hook-set in this game, simply because of the way gar hold and eat their prey. All said and done we had close to 50 runs before 3:00 PM, and everyone was thoroughly exhausted. We left Cody at the ramp, and headed back to town to find some Texas barbecue and Gatorade. Excited with our early success, we hit the sheets to get some rest before day two. We had our numbers in, so the plan for the second day was to locate a true giant. The thought alone made it hard to sleep.