Alvin Dedeaux has been fly fishing in Texas rivers since he was a little boy.
Courtesy of Alvin Dedeaux
As one of the most in-demand fly fishermen in Texas — his tours in Central Texas and the Gulf Coast are booked out indefinitely — Dedeaux has made a name for himself through his immense knowledge and truly sparkling personality. The 59-year-old’s adoration for fly fishing is palpable, even through a computer screen.
That’s because Dedeaux was practically born to wade into Texas rivers. Initiated into fly fishing as a 12-year-old, his love for the sport bloomed when he moved to Austin in 1982, giddily hopping into Central Texas rivers with his dad, maternal grandparents, uncles, and cousins.
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Dedeaux took a detour into the burgeoning Austin music scene in his early 20s. But even as the frontman of punk-funk band Bad Mutha Goose and the Brothers Grimm, a popular act assembled by former Big Boys guitarist Tim Kerr, he couldn’t push fly fishing from his mind.
So, when the band filmed its video for “Be Somebody” in the early 1990s, Dedeaux was in his element. The video cuts between the two sides of Dedeaux’s life. He’s onstage, shirtless, moving a crowd. And there he is, probably for the first time in music history, rapping, “Look at me, I’m on top of the world,” wearing a vest, casting a line, half submerged in a Texas river.
He remembers, during this time, even after headlining shows with Nirvana in San Francisco, wishing he was back in that same spot. Onstage, he was ready to bolt for the water.
“As soon as I get off this stage, I’m going to get in my car, drive to New Mexico and go fishing all week,” he remembers thinking. “I’ll see these guys the next gig.”
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The LoCo Trash Bash pulled more than 22 tons of refuse out of the Lower Colorado River in 2022.
Bonner Armbruster
Bad Mutha Goose released its lone full-length album, Tower Of Babel, in 1991, and broke up shortly after.
Dedeaux says he’s grateful for his time in music, because the band was successful enough that he could quit his day job and have the flexibility to do just that. But his first love, his true love, was elsewhere.
“I don’t miss the music career at all, but I definitely appreciate it for what it gave me,” he says. “If I had my choice between being onstage or being on the water, I pick being on the water any day.”
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Shortly after he left the band, Dedeaux started working at Austin Anglers, a local shop that helped him make contacts in the fly fishing scene in Central Texas. When the business closed in 2004, Dedeaux ramped up his business taking clients out on the Guadalupe, lower Colorado, and Llano Rivers to catch fish. In 2011, he started All Water Guides, in order to handle his booming guide business.
He also started filming his adventures — and his misadventures. In fact, some of his most popular videos include tangled reels, snapped fly rods, and the complete absence of caught fish.
“I think people relate to that, because that is actually a much more common experience for people doing this type of stuff, whether it’s fishing or hunting or whatever,” he says. “There’s a lot more times where you don’t succeed. But you can still have a great time.”
Dedeaux’s earnestness is part of why he’s become so popular.
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Despite what Dedeaux knows about the majesty of Texas rivers, he says that Texas Parks & Wildlife actually considers these bodies of water underutilized in the state. Texans are more prone to spending time on the lake or on the beaches of the Gulf.
Still, about a decade ago, Dedeaux starting noticing the amount of trash accumulating in the Lower Colorado River, particularly after storms.
For the sparse amount of people that use the Lower Colorado recreationally, at least compared to other bodies of water, “the amount of trash that ends up in the river is just shocking,” he says.
Fly fishing guide Alvin Dedeaux of All Water Guides with fellow guide Bonner Armbruster fishing the Colorado River.
Erich Schlegel/Colorado River Land Trust
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Dedeaux has benefited, materially, spiritually, and otherwise, from his associations with the Lower Colorado River. How could he repay its waters? In 2018, Dedeaux started the LoCo Trash Bash, an annual event to haul bottles and cans and other types of garbage out of the lower Colorado.
An event that grows in size every year — they pulled six tons of trash in 2018 and more than 22 tons last year — the LoCo Trash Bash comes from a place of gratitude.
“For my birthday, I decided that I should give back to the river and I was going to go out and fill my boat up with trash,” Dedeaux says. “And that was going to be my birthday present back to the river.”
The event, which takes place on October 28 this year, is more than a cleanup, he says. It is also meant to raise awareness of the existence of the lower Colorado, which some people have to see for themselves.
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In the same way, Dedeaux admits that the LoCo Trash Bash is a double-edged sword for river-lovers like himself. As the event has educated more people about the majesty of these hidden gems, he’s starting to notice that the solitude of an empty Texas river is a bygone concept.
It’s still an overwhelmingly net positive to Dedeaux, who considers himself as much of a conservationist as he does an outdoorsman.
“When I’m too old, or when I’m gone, hopefully somebody will continue with a trash cleanup,” he says. “And we’ll have this beautiful, pristine river right in the middle of this major metropolitan area forever.”
