Boat Noise

Texans know better than most that boat noise will spook shallow, saltwater fish. Our coastal anglers must lead the world in anchoring and jumping out of good boats, wading off a good ways to escape noisy boat hulls on our windy coast. For good reason: I’ve seen trout big enough to leave a v-wake while still 40 yards away, just out of casting range, leaving the South Padre shallows for deeper water. Somehow they could detect us even when quietly drifting broadside to the wind. And these were trout all right; this was in February when there were no sharks around. We finally caught one of them, a spotted beauty of 28 inches. It was impressive to see trout big enough to leave those wakes. Like many fish, they get wiser with age. As Bahamian guides will say, “That fish didn’t get big by bein’ no fool.”

While wading may be the best option for targeting trophy trout, it carries risks: One has to wade quietly while avoiding soft mud, oysters, stingrays, jellyfish and Vibrio. A few fishermen have paid the ultimate price for wading Texas bays, but for many the chance of hooking a lifetime trout of 30 inches or more is simply irresistible. Some anglers have traded wading for kayaks. But even kayaks aren’t always stealthy enough.

A fishing buddy, Al the kayaker, 78 years old, tells me that if you approach fish on the flats, even with a kayak upwind of shallow water fish, that tiny boat hull breaks the wave ripple pattern and alerts gamefish that are staged downwind. When he spots fish, he carefully paddles off to the side and as a result has caught all sorts of big trout, upper slot reds and even big flounder from his electric-powered kayak. The electric is used to run several miles from the boat ramp, and then he paddles near fish.

(Don’t tell Al, but his secret lure for this past year has been a gold, clear, three-inch Live Target Bait Ball plug. Price $17 this past spring but, with that’s going on in international trade this summer and fall, who knows what they will be worth).

He is an admirable angler, generous with his knowledge—and he knows what he’s talking about; leaves home in the dark and returns late. He fishes a kayak all day and when back at the marina, can knock back a round or two at the marina’s Tiki Bar while visiting. He’s a rare bird, for his age. From a quiet kayak he has observed many fish and understands their habits. He doesn’t care for bull sharks, after three of them attacked his kayak a mile from the boat ramp and chewed holes in it. Where’s a Luger when you need one?

As it turns out, Al is right: fish have all sorts of sensory detectors all over their bodies, though mainly in their lateral line. Sensors on their skin, too; not just for detecting a tasty meal nearby in murky water, but for detecting danger such as a sudden change in the wave patterns, underwater currents, tidal change, ripple patterns upwind, or wave pressure bouncing back from an object downwind. In shallow water they have to stay constantly alert. In deeper water, things are a little different: at the offshore platforms I’ve observed countless fish while diving, and they don’t respond much to noise. Although I’ve seen dozens of fish flinch and bolt a couple of feet when a small boat overhead arrives and shifts in and out of reverse with a loud Clunk! After seeing that, when I arrive at the honey hole I now switch off the engine and coast in. According to Al, we should switch that engine off even further away.

All fish are different, though. Big trout seem smarter than redfish, and I know both are smarter than flounder, visible sometimes under the boat or at your feet while wading. A flounder will hit the same artificial or bait several times until finally hooked. Flounder must think they’re invisible and don’t worry about noise.

Boat hull noise varies with different models, and that noise also depends on how choppy the water might be. I’ve taken to anchoring by the stern, which is quiet but can slop a little water over the transom. With a jonboat, that aluminum bow pointing into the waves can be a real ordeal with a constant boom-boom. For example, I’ve spotted summer tripletail on the surface while cruising along in one-foot waves, and when I turned around to approach for a cast, each fish was always spooked and gone. Just yesterday, we spotted a big floating red gas can (algae-covered) with a tripletail underneath. We were in a 22-foot panga and the Gulf glassy but bumpy, and the bow went Slap-slap! Ten feet away, the tripletail eyed our baits with a critical eye and then sulked back under his cover. We gave up, picked up the gas can for recycle, and left that tripletail homeless.

Back in shallow water, I’m fond of anchoring up against the shore and firing off a broadside of baits at fish 30-40 yards out there. If you can keep the boat quiet and make long casts, big trout and reds have no clue we’re there. Bring those 8-foot spinning outfits with 12-pound line, if you want to really lay a bait or spoon way out there without a backlash. Like almost anywhere, it’s better to fish calm water, especially a sheltered shoreline if the wind is blowing. With the opening picture of this story, we had an outgoing tide and had to tilt the motor, it was so shallow.

With that tide dropping fast, the other boats were long gone, but that big trout and a few upper slot reds were still there. I had to put both guys on the bow, just to idle out a good ways before jumping on plane. It was calm that afternoon without worrying about hull noise. On flat-out gusty days, a winding saltwater bayou will protect from any wind direction. We have a great many of those around Port Arthur, marshy saltwater ponds (where the big reds bite). In South Texas, sheltered bayous and ponds are rare. Like almost none.

Hydraulic stern anchors, commonly called Power Poles, will keep a boat’s bow pointing downwind, which is great for silencing wave-slap on the boat’s hull. On the windy coast of Texas, I still prefer setting an anchor and chain as insurance before leaving the boat to wade. Firm bottom and a strong gust of wind can set a boat drifting, and there have been fatalities when people unwisely swam after their boat.

Years ago, my family and I were in a boat with a malfunctioning stern pole that wouldn’t raise with a storm and lightning approaching, and I don’t care to repeat that. The owner had to crawl halfway inside his center console, unhook the hydraulics, and manually raise the pole before we could escape. Which took time as the wind and waves increased. Along with a few lightning hits. We finally raised that pole and “ran for daylight,” as Earl Campbell used to say.

As for deeper water, today’s quiet electric trolling motors are a nice innovation for moving around. A GPS-guided electric will keep the boat in one spot even when offshore in 200 feet of water, like we did last summer on a 41-foot Freeman boat. Electrics are mandatory for sneaking up on offshore tarpon. They’re also great for cruising up and down the jetties, where anglers can pummel nearby rocks with artificials without anchoring. No need to climb on the rocks like we once did. Both old-fashioned techniques were hard on anchors and various body parts.

A friend in Port Arthur, Mike Spencer, recently sent pictures of another surf-launch they made on the upper coast. He’s been launching in the surf, far from any boat ramps for decades, often fishing without seeing another boat. When the Gulf briefly flattened out and the water cleared up in May, he launched his 17-foot jonboat and found the baitfish schools a mile offshore. Accompanied by a surface school of big jacks. Bull redfish and tarpon weren’t around yet because May is a little early for both. Mike and his wife Julie crept up on the jacks and caught six, which is more than most people can handle in a day. They threw 7-inch silver drone spoons with single hooks, skipped them back with 3-4 jacks competing for it. Mike says tarpon are shy of boat noise but bull reds are much easier to approach, and he’s driven the boat right inside their schools, having them all around the vessel only five feet away, hundreds of them swimming on top of the water; almost petting distance. I have advised Mike to go hookless and let those reds and jacks play with a big topwater lure, knock it around and grab on repeatedly without having to fight them. Says he will try it this summer.

It’s impractical to use what amounts to Micky Mouse tackle out there on stud jacks and bull reds. Mike uses heavier tackle; after all, a tarpon might show up. “We use Shimano 200G and GT casting reels (with level winds) and heavy 7-foot rods, spooled with 30-pound Trilene Big Game line,” says Mike. That line actually tests out at about 40-pounds.

“The jacks don’t really like it if I run the outboard closer than 50 yards from them, but they don’t just panic and break up, either. They don’t care about the boat or trolling motor, though. Jacks will swim right up to the boat and smash 12-inch mullet trying to hide against our boat. Bull redfish are different. We can drive the 25-horse outboard right up to big surface schools and it doesn’t bother them. It is so fine to ease into the middle of a school of bull reds and have them swimming around the boat.”