Lache pas la patate, literal translation is “Don’t Let Go of the Potato.” But when uttered by a Cajun it means “Don’t Ever Give Up” – no doubt a regular battle cry for this hearty stock of people who embody good old-fashioned stick-to-it-tiveness. And gusto. And gumbo.
So despite the fact that cold temps and raging winds have thwarted all three of our recent Louisiana redfishing trips, we did as cajuns do and decided to lache pas la patate. Last Sunday we loaded up fishing gear and hope for Hopedale as we ventured back over to Louisiana to fish with Travis Holeman.
Finally. The sun came out. The winds laid down. The water warmed up. And the fish started moving around. Pretty quick out of the gate we were sight casting to reds and The Professor came up victorious a few times before lunch.
It was my turn up on the bow, but suffice to say my cast was rusty rusty rusty! I was struggling. I had half a dozen opportunities to sight cast at several reds but couldn’t deliver. Everyone was patient why I got into a better rhythm with the 8-weight. About midday I finally did connect and found some tension on the rod. Only problem? I was boogying to beat of a different drum…black, not red. And I foul hooked it.
It was wild, I saw the whole thing happen. I was urgently casting at three or four fish directly in front of the boat moving straight toward me. They rebuffed my offering and decided to scat as I watched this 35-pound lug move from left to right while I was still stripping. I felt tension but knew his body was too far right of my fly for it to be a proper eat. So this beast of a black drum took me to my backing with a tarpon hook and a redfish fly in his ass. As you can see I have some work to do on my grip-n-grin with a 35+ pound black drum foul hook fish.
Luckily mother nature started working with me and compensated for my poor casting. The sunshine continued to warm up the water so the fish started moving and eating with vigior. I finally caught my first Louisiana redfish.
And in the words of our esteemed captain, at this point we proceeded to jimmy jam ‘em. Singles, doubles, triples. My biggest was about ten pounds. The Professor’s about fifteen. But we caught a heap of reds and knocked the voodoo off. Whew! Finally.
Big thanks to Travis Holeman for a good old fashioned jimmyjam on the water . Enjoy the slideshow and remember the key lesson here: Don’t Let Go of the Potato.