Bayou Family Fishing

A Nod to Gulf Coast Boatbuilding Tradition

The Campagna Skiff is a classic example of the enduring Lafitte skiff design, a staple of Louisiana's maritime heritage. Emerging in the 1930s in the town of Lafitte, Louisiana, thanks to pioneering builders like Emile Dufrene, the Lafitte skiff was engineered for the demanding shallow waters of the Gulf Coast's bays, marshes, and bayous. With its semi-V hull transitioning to a flat stern, it offers unmatched stability and agility — perfect for commercial fishing like shrimping and crabbing, or simply navigating tricky coastal terrain.

Crafted in Meraux, Louisiana (just outside New Orleans), by the respected Campagna boat builders, these skiffs evolved from wooden cypress constructions to more modern fiberglass models while retaining their rugged reliability. Our featured 16-footer, equipped with a trusty 25 HP Yamaha outboard, exemplifies this blend of tradition and functionality, making it ideal for light-duty adventures in calm, shallow waters.

In our first year down here the bay boat was having problems and this skiff did it all. We made our first crabbing trip, and had some great days fishing in nearby waters. On calm days this boat would take us out as far as we wanted to go. Thank you Uncle John for letting us use your boat! I hope we see you and your boat here again soon!

Still Running, Still Fishing

Out near Port Sulphur, the Miss Carol keeps on — 40-plus feet of fiberglass, diesel growl, and Gaudet family grit. Named for Jason's mom, he and his dad, Mr. Grant, have been working this boat for years, skimming for shrimp, fixing what breaks, making it work. The money's tight — fuel eats half, repairs the rest, dock prices barely cover the gas. Middlemen take the cut, big boats crowd the water, but the Gaudets don't quit. It's not romance; it's routine. Mr. Grant's been at it long enough to know every tide, every bend. Jason's next — he's seen the numbers, knows the grind, but he's not walking away. This is what they do. This is home.

I rode with them once and have been wanting to try again. It was no big haul, but watching them work — quiet, steady, no complaints — stuck with me. That kind of stubborn pride? That's Louisiana. And yeah, the old days had boat blessings, high spirits, shrimp piled high — but the Gaudets aren't chasing ghosts. They're still out there, still pushing nets, still paying bills.

That's why Bayou Charity wants in. Not to save them — hell, they don't need saving. But to give them a hand: cover fuel, sort the haul, or whatever keeps the engine turning. And maybe open a door, let folks ride along. Climb off The Check Twice, step onto the Miss Carol, help pull a net, buy shrimp straight off the deck, and hear Jason or Mr. Grant talk shop. It's not a show. It's real: salt, sweat, stories. A taste of what keeps this life alive.

We're not here to turn them into a museum piece. We're here because they deserve to keep going — on their terms. If you're up for it, come ride. Help us keep the Miss Carol running, help Jason build something new out of the old. No pity, no fanfare — just good people, good water, and one more day on the bayou.

A Morgan City Homemade Crawfish Skiff

Morgan City has long been a hub for boatbuilding — right where the Atchafalaya meets the Gulf, folks turned to self-reliance early. From pirogues carved by hand to welded aluminum workhorses, locals built what they needed: tough, cheap, no-frills vessels for shrimping, fishing, crawfishing. WWII welding skills spilled over, aluminum came cheap post-war, and small yards like Scully's or Uncle J Custom popped up — plus plenty of backyard builders who just grabbed sheet metal, a torch, and know-how. No plans, no perfection — just boats that float, haul traps, and last. It's Cajun grit: make it yourself, make it work.

This one's straight from that line — an aluminum crawfish boat Leland welded up himself in Morgan City. A self-made boat by a self-made man. I was equally impressed with both when I purchased it. Solid plates, clean enough lines, built to handle the tough workload we are giving them. Turned-up bow slices through chop, front console shifts weight forward, and traps stack aft without blocking the view.

Powered by a 1997 90hp Mercury two-stroke: old, smoky, but when tuned, it pushes hard. We're giving it a refresh, Dad and I wrenching together and making up for lost time. Then we had an idea — to learn about these motors and find deals on these old outboards. We picked up a 1998 115hp same block, extra cylinder — for backup or future hulls. Throwback sound: pop, rumble, echo off the water. Come learn with us, or please teach us how to do it right!

A Louisiana Legend: VIP Baystealth

VIP Boats—short for Vivian Industrial Plastics—started back in nineteen sixty-eight when Bill Parker, a local marine dealer, turned his shop into a full-on boat factory in the small town of Vivian, Louisiana. Up northwest near Caddo Lake, they kicked off with fiberglass hulls: first bass boats in the seventies and eighties—think high-performance V-hulls, livewells, rod lockers, all built tough for freshwater tournaments. By the nineties, they branched into saltwater, rolling out the Bay Stealth line—those sleek, no-nonsense bay boats that became Louisiana legends. Heavy fiberglass, wide beams, storage everywhere, softer rides than most. Folks loved 'em for chasing reds and trout in skinny water without drama. They weren't flashy, but they were built to last—hand-laid, wood-reinforced, warranties that meant something.

VIP peaked as a hometown hero, employing hundreds at one point. But by two thousand eight, they filed bankruptcy—economy hit hard, competition from bigger yards. Assets got scooped up by new folks like Caddo Manufacturing, but the original magic faded. No more new hulls off that line. Today, those old Bay Stealths? Rare survivors—tough, undervalued, still running strong if you treat 'em right.

Mine's one of 'em: The Check Twice, a 2004 twenty-foot center console on that classic VIP Bay Stealth hull. Repowered with a brand-new 200 hp Suzuki outboard, barely fifty hours on it. Up front, Minn Kota Terrova with i-Pilot Link—GPS spot-lock, auto-pilot, all synced to my Humminbird navigation and fish finder so I can steer from the console without touching a thing. (Honestly, it's smarter than me—I'm still figuring it out.) And aft? Dual Minn Kota Talons—ten-foot shallow water anchors that drop straight into mud, lock us dead-still in current or wind.

This boat's no toy. It's the backbone of our future—the ride that'll haul us to hidden ponds for reds, or blast out on trout runs and waters unknown still chasing those Louisiana dreams.

Classic Inshore Trawler

Picture this: dawn on Wilkinson Bayou, mist rising off the marsh, and Bait-By-You—a no-nonsense 35-foot fiberglass trawler—idles at the dock. Teal hull, white trim, outriggers folded like wings, nets draped heavy with dew. She's built for the shallow stuff: low draft, wide beam, deck cleared for sorting buckets and quick hauls. That outboard purrs her through grass flats and channels where bigger rigs can't go.

This type? Straight Louisiana inshore—fiberglass evolution from the old wooden luggers and Lafitte skiffs of the 1930s. Back then, bayou fishermen welded up flat-bottomed hulls from cypress or plywood, added small engines, and towed butterfly nets or otter trawls from bow frames. By the '60s–'70s, fiberglass took over: lighter, tougher, rot-proof—perfect for daily runs in brackish water. No fancy history here—just practical design: gallows for nets, outriggers for spread, cod-end to keep the catch. Built by local yards or backyard pros, these boats kept families fed when the Gulf was too rough.

Sam Ronquille runs her Thursday through Sunday—out at first light, back loaded with live shrimp. Biggest around, best prices, right off the deck. "Hook it or cook it," he says. He's supplying the real fishermen: bait for their lines, fresh shrimp for their coolers. No middlemen—just one man, one boat, keeping the tradition alive. Swing by the Tackle Box, say hi to him (and his dog Bayou—just don't let Bayou on your boat, you'll see). It's the bayou life: get up, go out, come back with what folks need. Simple, steady, still going.