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.