Unforgettable Father-Son Fishing Trip: Making Memories on Big Lake
By local accounts, the 45-degree weather feels unusually chilly for late March in Louisiana. A cold front had swept through, shifting the wind from its typical southerly flow to the north. It's a steady breeze—not fierce by Texas Panhandle standards—but enough to notice.
From our hotel, it's just a short 20-minute drive for my son and me to reach Pelican Point Road and our meeting spot with Big Lake Guide Service. Maps label it Calcasieu Lake, but locals simply call it "Big Lake."
The nickname fits perfectly.
From the dock, I chat with our guide, Brian, as the sun rises behind us. Gazing west, the far shore is barely visible—emphasizing the lake's vast scale. This natural brackish estuary spans nearly 50,000 acres, teeming with redfish and speckled trout in waters averaging just 3 feet deep.
Soon, Brian launches our center-console boat from the slip, and we're skimming across the glassy surface toward prime morning fishing spots. Half an hour after sunrise, the chill bites without a jacket, so I hunker behind the windshield for shelter.
The ride is brief. As we idle to a stop, Brian points out slick patches on the water's surface.
"Redfish are feeding here," he explains, noting how the fish roil the water, leaving oily slicks in their wake. We cast shrimp-mimicking soft plastic jigs, bouncing them over sandy flats and oyster beds in the shallow water.
Unfortunately, recent rains had dumped freshwater into the lake, staining it a muddy cappuccino hue and dulling visibility. The bite was off. But I wasn't concerned. Outdoor adventures are about the experiences and lessons they offer. Glancing aft, my 10-year-old son Ryan casts happily, untroubled by the slow action. His joy is mine—that's what counts.
"Daddy," he says, as he often does before a question or observation. I can't recall the exact words, but hearing that title never grows old. It's a profound honor, one I embrace fully amid a world too often marked by negativity and self-focus. A pristine Louisiana morning on the water, fish or no fish, is a blessing.
A few casts later, Brian hooks a fish from the bow and calls Ryan to help reel it in. My son scrambles forward, grips the baitcaster, and battles steadily. Experienced from past trips, he plays the fish masterfully until Brian nets it alongside.
It's a solid redfish—our only catch of the morning. We snap photos and release it back into the depths.
"Daddy," Ryan says as we load into the SUV, "Can we come back?" One fish in four hours, yet he craves more.
"I'd love to," I reply, ruffling his hair.
No limit today, but the memories from Big Lake are priceless.
