I’m about to go on my second trip of the year to El Salto, and who-knows-exactly what number trip overall, but this will only be the second time I’ve been there in the fall. The last time was Halloween weekend of 2016, and I’m not so sure why I’ve waited so long – because it was a pretty amazing trip.
While I’d heard about the Whopper Plopper to that point, and had purchased a few, I’d yet to cast them. The lake was overfull, and while we weren’t catching huge numbers, we had a couple of spots where we could consistently get quality bites. When I tied on the Plopper the second afternoon, my guide looked at it quizzically, but his doubt evaporated when a 6-pounder grabbed it after a few casts. Again, I didn’t catch a ton of fish on it, but when I did they were all between 4- and 8-pounds, and they were the best topwater strikes I’ve seen anywhere but the Amazon (next April’s tuna trip to Panama may reset the standings).
It was the one time in my life where I’ve truly felt that I was the first person to have a killer lure on a world-class body of water. Maybe a few people had thrown it there before me, but based on the way the fish acted it wasn’t many.
On the last day we came to a lone bush at the end of a point and my Plopper didn’t make it all the way past it before another 7-pounder smoked it. Every May or June since, as we’ve gone by that landlocked bush with the water 30 feet lower, I’ve craved another shot. Now I just might get it. That’s the type of dream that keeps me coming back.
