Local Angler Fly Fishing Austin & Central Texas (The Local Angler, 1) - Softcover

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Aaron Reed is an award-winning outdoor writer and Army veteran. He currently splits his time between the New York City Harbor, where he drives a tugboat, and his home near the banks of the San Gabriel River in Georgetown, Texas. He is a founding member of the Texas Streams Coalition and has worked for the Texas Parks & Wildlife Department. In 2020, he was awarded the prestigious FFI Roderick Haig-Brown Award.  His first book, Fly Fishing Austin & Central Texas won the National Outdoor Book Award. When he is not working, chances are you can find him knee-deep in a stream somewhere around Austin, often with one or more of his three boys, trying like heck to become a better fly fisherman.

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Fly Fishing Austin: Chapter 1

Lampasas River

“Our tradition is that of the first man who sneaked away to the creek when the tribe did not really need fish."

Roderick L. Haig-Brown, A River Never Sleeps

The Lampasas River is one of several major tributaries of the mighty Brazos River that we will visit in these pages. The upper sections of the river lie just outside my self-imposed, roughly 60-mile radius from Auditorium Shores in downtown Austin, but it’s still an easy hour-and-a-half drive. I keep coming back to it for a couple of reasons: it’s a beautiful and diverse fishery, and the river is almost entirely passed over by all but a handful of dedicated local anglers and consequently receives very little fishing pressure.

The stream rises about 16 miles west of Hamilton and flows mostly southeast more than 100 river miles to its confluence with the Leon River, where―along with the San Gabriel―it becomes the Little River. Fed by springs and numerous creeks, the Lampasas is clear but slow over the course of its upper and middle reaches, with a much more gradual drop than streams originating farther south in the Edwards Plateau. That low gradient means that fine silt and sediment from the surrounding sandy loam and clay agricultural lands can remain suspended for long minutes or even hours when a pool is disturbed. A school of carp or catfish, a herd of feral hogs, or a wading fisherman, can muddy one pool while the pools above and below remain crystal clear.

The river likely takes its name from the town of Lampazos de Naranjo in the Mexican state of Nuevo León and was known to Spanish explorers at least as early as 1721. Or it may be named for a plant reminiscent of the “elephant ears,” or lampazos, for which the Mexican town is named. They are native to Mexico and points south, and a visually similar plant – taro – grows profusely along the river. Taro are naturalized in Texas; for how long, no one really knows...

Wherever the name comes from, a community dating to the 1850s adopted it and quickly became a center for area ranchers and other settlers. Later in the 19th century, the town drew tourists to the mineral springs that rise here. Today, Lampasas is a bustling town of about 8,000 souls. It’s a terrific base for exploring the area’s rivers.

There is one impoundment on the river, Stillhouse Hollow Lake, well downstream about 5 miles southwest of Belton, and numerous road crossings along the upper and middle reaches. We will take a close look at two sections of stream that offer good access and reliable fishing.

Notable for: Easy wading in a scenic rural setting; good populations of bass, carp, channel catfish, and freshwater drum; some huge and aggressive green sunfish; genetically pure Guadalupe bass in some sections

Farm Road 1690 Near Adamsville 31.242261, -98.117366
2801 FM 1690, Lampasas, TX 76550
83.4 road miles; 1:25 drive time
Difficulty: Easy to Moderate
(wade)

A friend turned me on to this reach of river a couple of years ago and it quickly became a favorite. I have run into other anglers there just once: a couple of good old boys who had been catfishing with gear, scrambling up the bank after an encounter with a herd of wild hogs. I continued on and had a lovely day on the unpeopled stream. Most of my favorite fishing spots give at least the illusion of rural seclusion. This section of the upper Lampasas truly is in the boonies. On one trip I was perplexed by the sound of large projectiles crashing into the river behind me. I couldn’t imagine who would be hiding just over the high bank, or why they would be throwing things at me, and I was beginning to get a little worried. Then I realized that what I was hearing, but wasn’t quite quick enough to see, was a burr oak shedding golf ball-sized acorns into the river. It’s that kind of lonesome out here.

Getting There

From downtown, take US 183 (tolls on the US 183A section) north about 70 miles to the city of Lampasas. On the north side of town, where US 183 jinks west, continue north on US 281 (the two highway numbers share the road through town) for 10 miles to Farm Road 1690, on the right. Follow FM 1690 3.75 miles and cross the Lampasas River. You will see a dirt track paralleling the road on your left. Park near the barrier close to the bridge.

From the Killeen area or I-35 in Belton, take I-14 west until it becomes US 190, continue to Lampasas, then go right on US 183/281.

What You Will Find

From the parking area alongside FM 1690, a well-defined trail disappears around the steel traffic barrier and continues under the bottomland canopy and directly beneath the bridge before plunging down the bank on the upstream side. Some kind soul―his name rhymes with Chris Leslie―has installed a heavy-duty strap-and-rope climbing aid here. You won’t need it unless the path or your shoes are wet, and then you’ll quietly murmur, “Thanks, Chris!”

The portion of the pool beneath the bridge is a jumble of cobbles and boulders, but the water is knee-deep or less during normal flows. Whether fishing upstream or downstream, you can head straight across here and then proceed on the far bank if you wish; this far bank is technically the south bank of the river, though it lies more westerly here.

Fishing Upstream from the Bridge

Let’s head upstream first, starting with the pool that ends beneath the bridge. This pool is wadeable on river left (your right as you head upstream) or may be fished from the large limestone boulders on the other side. The deepest section of the pool lies against these rocks, which provide fish-sheltering overhangs. There are big bass, channel cats, and carp in this pool, as well as bluegill, longear, and green sunfish. A pretty, low falls marks the top of the pool and then it’s a stroll across a corrugated limestone-and-gravel sill.

The next pool is a long one, and deep. Approach with care and probe the tail of the pool; the limestone sill here is deeply undercut and holds fish. Continuing upstream, wade the shallows in the sand and gravel along the south bank. The deeper channel on river left (your right), with its heavy vegetation and steep bank, looks like the sure bet, but bass also cruise the drop-off just ahead of you. Bass here don’t go far when spooked, and once they realize they’re not being pursued by a predator, they seem happy to stop and consider whatever fly you drop in front of them.

One afternoon, I watched a series of slashing rises below an overhanging sycamore on that north bank, thinking I was seeing a bass feeding on drifting damsel flies. It wasn’t until I hooked up and brought the fish to hand that I realized it was a slab of a green sunfish, just an inch shy of the state fly fishing record. It turns out there are a lot of big greens in the river, and they are aggressive feeders and a ton of fun on a light rod.

At the head of this pool, the river bends due west. Wade the deeper water up the middle and then cross over to the gravel bank river left (your right) before the stream curves back to the northwest. There’s a jumble of boulders ―a very fishy spot -- on the far bank, river right. From here it’s about 750 feet upstream over a corrugated limestone-and-gravel bottom to the next sill. During normal flows the water is knee- to thigh-deep; wade straight up the middle or to the right as you head upstream.

It’s more of the same until, about 300 yards beyond the riffle that marks the top of the previous pool, you’ll see a stand of flood-ravaged sycamores river right. There are a couple of nice, deep holes below the trees. Above this spot, the river shallows again and you’ll find the braided channel...