The legend of Lake Guerrero takes on a new life

Famous Mexican fishing spot back in spotlight after drought recovery
Reprint from Corpus Christi Caller Times

April 24, 2005

ABASOLO, Mexico - I traveled 300 miles and waited a lifetime - OK, half a lifetime if I'm lucky - to fish Lake Guerrero. It's unclear when I first became intrigued with the hype surrounding this reservoir in the foothills of Mexico's Sierra Madre. I held fantastic images conjured by those stories from the 1970s, of an exotic jungle with remote peaks towering over clear waters overpopulated with double-digit bass. I probably was an early-teen at the time, during the dawning of Lake Guerrero's heyday. I recall hearing that the only way to reach its mystical banks back then was by single-engine airplane, making my visit a distant possibility. More probable outdoor yearnings eased Guerrero into the background, but it never faded altogether from my wish list.

Lake Guerrero filled in the late-1960s and early 1970s with waters from the Rio Corona, Rio Purificacion and Rio Pilon. And it became popular with Mexican sustenance fishermen almost immediately. Longtime anglers Perry Head, of Oglesby, began fishing Lake Guerrero in the mid-1970s, before lodges welcomed anglers to its shores, when parrots and other tropical birds decorated the trees. Back then, the lake was so popular that fishing was prohibited during the bass spawn. Head recalls a mystical place that surpassed expectations. "My thumb and forefinger would be torn up from unhooking so many fish, 80 to 100 a day," Head said. "Back then, you could catch 6- and 7-pounders all day, with a few double digits mixed in. My 3-year-old daughter with a Zebco 202 dangled a spinnerbait beside the boat and caught bass all day long. I spent most of my time unhooking her fish." Remarkable. Then came a drought.

Despite the reservoir's decline, Head and a group of buddies continued to gather there each year. And they still caught fish, but fewer and fewer. Surprisingly, Head was sitting beside Jerry Elbert of Waco in 1999 when Elbert caught the lake-record, a lunker that actually weighed 18 pounds full of eggs when caught. The fish lost eggs before it could be weighed on land at 17.4 pounds. By this time, Head said the lake level had dropped some 30 feet and fishing, despite Elbert's trophy, bordered on dismal. "It was terrible," he said. "We only caught a half-dozen fish that day the lake record was caught." This is about the time Lake Guerrero returned to my consciousness. Drought had tarnished its image beyond recognition. Sadly, the lake had sunken into the foothills, leaving its celebrated offerings as well as water's edge beyond reach for many anglers. Stories returned of a pathetic fallen king. Anglers felt betrayed, refusing to bow to her. Some even cursed the shrunken Guerrero. And then it rained.

Geurrero's withered body became plump with new water and flush with fishes again, not yet glorious as it was, but full enough to herald a comeback. Head said he noticed the beginnings of Guerrero's rise about three years ago. Bass seemed to have filled new spaces and found abundant refuge in newly flooded timber and bank-side brush, which made gillnetting and hand-lining much more difficult than before. Head believes this has contributed substantially to the bass population rebound.

Guerrero rose another five feet in October 2004, according to Marty Leija, with Club Exclusive and Big Bass Tours. Fishing improved even more within a couple months and continues to get better, Leija said. Within the past year or so, returning anglers at Big Bass lodge have reported catching about 50 largemouth eight pounds or better, Leija said. Catch and release is strongly encouraged, by the way. And I am here to report that as of a couple weeks ago, there was a bass at the base of nearly every stump, thanks to what biologists call the new-lake effect. This occurs when the water level at a reservoir rises dramatically, usually followed by a spontaneous fish spawn. This is nature's way of rushing to fill a sudden boost in habitat. Populations of baitfishes respond in kind, further fueling the resurgence and fattening predators. We didn't catch any 10-pounders.

Our best of 50 was better than five pounds, though. And these aggressive fish displayed a royal arrogance befitting their heritage, but were still gracious enough to award an audience to the humblest of subjects such as me. And it turns out, Lake Guerrero is not nearly as faraway as I'd heard. And you can drive to it. It's only about three hours south of Brownsville. If you go with Club Exclusive & Big Bass Tours, they'll pick you up in Harlingen and taxi you to a lakefront cabin at the north end of the lake, where a darkened sky and gusty north wind greeted my party, threatening to drench a longtime dream. We watched other boats launch into the chop as two friendly guides approached and began reassuring the four of us that conditions would be OK to fish. Guide Joel Aguilar must have sensed the apprehension in my gaze. He turned to me with a knowing smile.

"Don't worry amigo, we'll catch fish." Outdoors writer David Sikes' column appears Thursdays and Sundays. Contact him at 886-3616 or sikesd@caller.com