For anyone who ever stood on the beach and looked over the bay and wondered what life is like past the jetties, fishing far enough out to where even the thought of sighting land has been given up for dead, well, July 12th was the perfect day to find out. Our Texas fishing report can paint a visual picture. Most of hot summer days are, though, for that matter. It's this season every year that calms any boat rocking gulf weather left over from spring, offering more consistent runs to smooth seas. And coincidentally, also when most of the prized Texas offshore gamefish have migrated into Texas fishing waters.

Boy were both of those things ever true around the Texas fishing coast as my group of 5 blue water fishermen pulled into the Freeport, Texas marina to meet with our captain, Don O'Neal.

I had booked with captain Don the summer prior, but after two canceled dates already due to high winds, my Texas deep-sea fishing itch would have to wait until 99 to be appeased. And since Don advertises an affordable,  Texas offshore fishing trip, boasting a
full days hook wetting at hundreds less than the average fishing charter, I figured it wouldn't cost too much to find out if he actually knew his way around the gulf or not. Today was the day to find out.

We boarded his ship, the Sea Play, and shoved off just before 7:00 am.

Casting off into a soft sunrise, the Sea Play steadily bumped its way through the rough intercoastal traffic, steering toward the promises of lighter swells farther out, and *cross your fingers* bigger fish to report...

I think this is one of the main addicting points for Texas offshore anglers. You never know what fish you may catch out there to report, or how big it'll be.

2 hours in, the first weed lines started showing. Made of tangled masses of sargassum, these floating mats also move through the gulf around this time, harboring a myriad of little food fishes and the larger predators we hoped were
following. Immediately captain Don throttled back to allow his first mate, Israel Larson, to

let out the baits ( 2 lure/frozen bait combos and an oversized artificial
called a trembler). 3 lines flowed back into the churning wake as tiny flying fish popped up and glided safely away just inches above the water.

The first hook ups were small dorado. Hardly large enough to stop the boat, but to anyone who's ever tasted them, a welcome addition to the stringer. We boated 2 more of these chicken, dolphin and a lost another on our troll toward the 32 (32 mile boundary).

When we reached this invisible boundary, only the slightest breath of a breeze was left. Barely enough to ripple the surface. The sun pressed hard on the back deck of the boat as we once again slowed pace. Its rays penetrated deep into the navy blue fathoms before getting deflected in a thousand directions. We tracked this invisible boundary as captain Don surveyed his monitor intently, waiting for just the right pattern of blips to scroll by... He signaled. And Israel instantly dropped a buoy over the stern. Pieces of cutbait followed right in behind. They fell like flakes settling in one of those snow globes, flashing tiny beams of silver
as they descended. 5 sets of eyes peered over the side to watch.

We couldn't see that far down, but king mackerel patrolled below. One raced in to snatch a bait in full stride - often rocketing out of the water when attacking prey as they're famous for doing - only to disappear in one long gleam of silver. Instantly everyone went into motion to get ready. Fish were gonna be on! But these were no ordinary kings, thankfully; it was a group of heavyweights and they appeared to not have eaten in a while.

Before I could let my hooked morsel all the way out, the spool next to me whined in panic. A cohort, Anthony Drlik, grabbed the rig and laid back into the aggressor, helplessly hanging on as the fish ripped off a hundred yards of
line. He fought it back from the depths in the traditional spiral pattern, and the mackerel became visible at about thirty feet down. It was the largest I'd seen, a true 40 pounder, which is an inspiring sight against the blue-black water.

As soon as the gaff hit him, I let out my line again. This time I'd be the first to reach the right depth. And as soon as my offering reached it, another king slammed in for the kill.

Strikes were automatic for the next hour and a half; enough action to boat 11 big kings and 2 amberjacks from the hoard that got caught up in the mini-frenzy we had caused. A wonderful stretch in fishing circles, and just another ordinary
summer day out beyond the jetties.

Call us at (281) 851-6151 and speak directly to Captain Donnie O'Neal or email us at info@seaplay.com. 

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