After a three hour drive, we arrive at an old 1960’s South Texas ranch house. Pulling in, you immediately notice the other trucks carrying kayaks parked around the barn, guys sitting in lawn chairs in the shade, and the Texas flag flying over the Pila. Grabbing my overnight bag, I head into Marlene’s house to scout for my bed of choice. Each room is lined with several twin beds. I always try to pick something near a window and fan. The nights are hot so this is the most comfortable place to get some rest and I know it’s going to be the last time for four days to do so. Marlene’s house always reminds me of nights spent at my grandparents farm. Warm temperatures at night, the window drapes blowing with the breeze, the rhythm of a box fan, and quietness. The kind of quietness that’s keeps you awake with your own thoughts. Up before the sun, Marlene has the coffee on and a breakfast casserole ready on the counter as she sits on the couch watching the news, making small talk with us and praying for rain in the forecast.
That night we spent our time unpacking the kayaks, dividing all the camping gear and food, stringing up our rods and packing all of our clothes and essentials for the next four days into dry bags. After that, its cold beer, fajitas, and conversation for as long as you will. On this trip we brought a friend of mine who has never been on the Devils River. I spent a lot of time thinking about this. Was he going to enjoy this paradise like me? Would the relentless winds drive him crazy? Would he be discouraged by the difficult sleeping conditions or the constant dragging through low water? Was he going to learn the tricks to catching these fish? One thing I did know was that he has the mentality to be uncomfortable in the wild. We spent a week chasing elk in the mountains together last October and I was witness to his physical and more importantly, his mental capabilities in bad conditions.
Morning comes and we eat our casserole, sip our coffee, and load everything up again. We make our way west, past the border patrol stop and down the winding roads of Comstock. There is really nothing to see but desert for miles. Sage brush, some rolling hills, cactus, and buzzards cleaning up the roadsides. This is a tough place for even a rattlesnake to live. Soon, we quickly descend into the river basin and there it is! The Devils River.. The river water is shockingly clear and clean. Lush trees line its banks and green grass thrives in and around it’s bed. Almost immediately we hear spring turkeys calling. How did this place get here? How is this possible in the middle of the desert? Does anyone know this exists? It seems too good to be true. But there is a reason it’s called the Devils River. We would all soon experience why. Gerald likes to be quick about our drop so we have about 15 minutes to unload everything from the truck and trailer. Soon, its “adios” from Gerald, “see you in 4 days, good luck”.
We load all of our gear into our kayaks and push off the shore. First thing is first. Fishing! Almost as soon as we set off, we are casting to the banks and in the rapids. No more than 15 minutes goes by and we are catching! A lot of day one is spent learning your boat and how to balance and fish from it as well as how to make things you might need throughout the day more accessible. As we make our way slowly down the river, we see ducks, turkeys, pigs, and deer crossing the river, snakes swimming and a lot of fish! The river’s landscape constantly changes from thin, shallow water channels lined with tall grass to deep water sometimes 40 yards across and cliff faces 200 feet high. Day one will give you a taste of the struggle to come with shallow rapids. These are the kind of rapids you could break an ankle in at any step. Dragging your 200 lb. loaded down boat through this over and over will make you pay some serious attention to your steps. As we make camp that evening we tally up the fish counts, crack open beers, and settle in for the night. Dinner is coming soon and we are all starving! Nights on the Devils River are something to cherish. The skies are usually clear and this presents an opportunity to see the stars like you are at some distant land. We sit around a string of red lights (no fires) and tell stories, drink cold beer, smoke cigars, and constantly stare up in to the sky and the stars, watching satellites drift through space. Night one we celebrate pretty hard and maybe get a little too deep in the ice chest. But it’s a special night, who’s to judge!
From here things get progressively more difficult. But the fishing opportunities get even better. Right away we face a strong headwind pushing our boats up river as soon as you put your paddle down. You will spend a tremendous amount of time dropping anchor, paddling and getting out pulling your boat in order to keep moving forward. At the same time the shallow water and rocks hidden in the fast moving currents will exhaust you to your daily limits. Falling over and over and not knowing when you might get cut, twist an ankle or wrist will start to exhaust you and test your mental limits. But, just as soon as you make it through that, there is a deep hole full of bass waiting for you to cast with no one around! It is a dream situation for outdoorsmen like us and makes all the challenges worthwhile. As the day progresses, the fish count rises. Sometimes 50/50% large to small mouth bass. We make sure to stop frequently to admire God’s beauty around us, sometimes to cast in promising spots, take a beer break, cool down in the crisp clean water, and fuel our bodies with a bite to eat. As our leader would say “ lunch is all the time between breakfast and dinner, pack lots of snacks”. We keep a soft side ice chest behind our kayak seat loaded down so heavy that the zippers are at their max. Ice doesn’t last long, but there are tricks to extending it. Over the next several days and nights we will see land most men never will, catch fish that fight like Comanche’s, test our physical abilities, our mental toughness, deepen our friendships and praise God for his creation. All things I believe God intended for man. It is a spiritual place and has been for forever.
As we near the end, our coolers are empty and tackle is getting low. By this time we are all tired, hungry, and very sore. But this is the point in the trip where I start to really think about my feelings for the Devils River. It is such a difficult place for so many reasons. But to me, it is still my favorite place to be. Her beauty is something picture and stories will not tell. I leave here every year wanting to show this to people and talk about this creation of God. But this is the struggle with the Devils river and me. She is and has always been a mystery to most. This river deserves her privacy. The land is hard and unchanged and should remain that way. The fish are wild and abundant just as they were when Indians painted on the cliff sides. For these reasons I feel compelled to share my stories as I believe God intended. But for the same reasons I will protect her privacy by keeping certain things close to my heart. So if you want to know the secrets to planning this trip and all the things we have learned over the years, don’t hold your breath. I will do my part to preserve the Devils River.
Cheers,
Jed Mazour
