While some can say we’re true locals, probably more have spent summers, holidays, and spring breaks in Port Aransas. We’ve grown up here and this town provides plenty of nostalgia!

Collectively, we fellow Texans probably share a lot of the same experiences. Many fished, of course, but others spent time at the beach, got sunburned, and got sand everywhere and in everything.

If you’re like me, you like to think, “things were better then, or when…” Well, maybe they were. It’s safe to say this place has changed. But passing down Port A’s heart and soul to the next generation can still bring us joy. By sharing our traditions with kids, new family members and friends we can re-live the good stuff and make some more memories.

Here’s a tribute to “The Port A Fishing Trip.”

We loaded the igloo coolers and the folding chairs (you know, the goods ones they don’t make anymore) and made that last stop at Academy Surplus for tackle, a spare rod and reel, or a good knife. Then we hit the backway to drive down to Port A. (And it seems like just yesterday my toddler son made sure we packed his prized possession, a Sponge Bob Square Pants fishing rod). Back in the day we also packed our own food in those igloo coolers, because restaurants were few and far between.

It was in the late 80s that I joined the Kidd family and learned how to wade fish in the flats. Years of these of trips qualifed me to be a veteran with basic girlfriend-boat-driving skills.

Anyway, the night before the fishing outing always required a run into Bilmore’s for a last minute fishing license. We often strolled in late, like 10 minutes before closing. But we still had time to browse and wander around lost for a bit, forcing the check out lady to ring the bell a few times. And Woody’s was the place for live bait. We stocked up on shrimp and whatever else we found swimming around in their outdoor tanks.

After dinner Desmond Sr., our trip captain, would announce commencement time for morning fishing. It was always really early. “We’re gonna load the boat and push off at 5 am.” That meant if you were going fishing you were also agreeing to slide out of that boat before sunrise. Apparently, an early start was necessary to sneak up on the keepers. Also necessary was sorting fishing gear for five to six family members in the dark, before said push off. A set of hook outs, a dip net, a fishing belt with rod and drink holder, a stringer and a bait bucket – not to mention a pair of ill-fitting stingray guards for the lower extremities- were on the official gear list.

The boat drivers varied and tolerated various amounts of verbal feedback (yelling) as they ran the bay boat to East Flats or Shamrock Cove or other secret spots. Anchored, we’d grab a rod, a handful of fresh bait for our bucket, sit on the side of the boat for a few seconds and then plunk into waist deep water. Shuffling feet would hopefully scatter the stingrays, which were always more of a concern than sharks. We waded out beyond ear shot of each other to find a hole, the sandy bottom spots where the Redfish huddle up. Keeping your reel out of the salt water and shuffling your feet across the soft, muddy bottom was slow going and took more energy than one might expect. Hopefully, I would see a “hole” to fish in and fling the bait in there. Given that we started this process really early, sometimes casting was done blindly into a dark, monochromatic bay.

This wouldn’t last long, the Texas sun isn’t shy, and by 6:30 am there’s light on the water. I did enjoy the solitude of wading by myself, a couple hundred yards from the others. But when someone hollered “gotta keeper!” we moved in closer. Invariably by 9 am that coastal fatigue would set in from wading, casting, reeling, endlessly adjusting the gear around my waist, towing the fish stringer, and wrestling with finger mullet. But by then, it was also snack time back at the boat. Hello mustard sardines, saltines and cold beer!

Watch Below. Then and Now 4 generations of the Kidd family re-living the good stuff, 1963-2021.