Showing posts with label Lake Whitney. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lake Whitney. Show all posts

Sunday, January 14, 2024

SNOW

 


It's freezing here, literally freezing. Biting wind cuts through the icy boulevards of this once prosperous Texan farming community. Yes, once prosperous, but someone forgot to pay their Weather Tax and now our Old Enemy is exacting its revenge.


Lake Whitney

Snow, ice, bitter wind and glowering, leaden grey skies. Very little moves, how could it, it's frozen, and worse is yet to come. Weather Seers are predicting an ice storm will hit this erstwhile cotton town later tonight.


A typical Compound room scene

We'll see who and what survives the latest attack by General Winter, who knows. But one thing is certain, we stand firm, resolute, unbroken before our ancient adversary, no, we will not pay the tax. Speaking of which, some of you may have noticed the curious twists and turns of Lib Logic.


This is what happens to your library and writing room when you don't pay the dam tax

As in, it's colder now because it's hotter, which is why you have to pay us moar money so you'll be trans DEI richer.

See you on the other side,

LSP

Monday, October 16, 2023

Gone Fishing

 


So, what'd you do today, so-called LSP, if that's your real name, which we doubt. Well, nothing complicated, a morning visit to the Pick 'n Steal and then off to the lake and its dam to try my luck against the piscine adversary. Would they bite?

No, they did not. Don't get me wrong, I tried, I really did, but the fish weren't having it. There they were, predatory gar lying in ambush downstream of the spillway pool, you could see them loud and clear through cleverly polarized glasses.



But no, they weren't having it, frozen shad didn't cut it today, so I tried my luck at Soldiers Bluff on the other side of the dam. There were fish there, yes, you could see them, but would they bite? No, they would not.

In fact, it was like fishing into a wind tunnel and who can blame the fish for keeping their heads down beneath the surging waves. So I packed up light Ugly Stick rods and headed for home, thankful for a morning under the big clear sky and clean air of Texas.



Don't worry, fish, your day will come. Draw the moral as you care to take it and that, dear readers, is the story of that.

Never Surrender,

LSP

Thursday, October 5, 2023

Thursday After Mass

 


On Thursday evenings there's a Mass at Mission #2 and afterwards we decided to go down the road to Parson's Marina for a drink and a snack. It's tranquil there, with a view over the lake and offers $2 beers and discount pizza on Thursdays, which can't be bad.

So we pulled in to Shooky's only to find several other members of the flock already there who had cunningly skipped Mass in favor of cut price lakeside fare. In fairness, the latter's a big draw but look, you can have both. Hmmm, maybe I need to say an outdoor Mass at good old Shooky's, move the mountain to Mohammed, sorta thing.


Good Old Shooky's

Then more people from the church turned up, it was getting to be like an Annual Parish Meeting and I found myself invited to a dove hunt on Sunday. Great result, let's see if the birds are flying when the day comes around and regardless, it'd be good to get out in the field now the climate's changed.

We'll see how that goes, in the meanwhile, what a lot of fun to meet up with such good people as the sun was beginning to set over the lake, beautiful. I feel more of this is in order.

Cheers,

LSP

Sunday, October 1, 2023

Out And About

 



One of the things people like to do after Mass at Mission #2 is go out for lunch and I joined in today. We went to Shooky's, which is a congenial little setup overlooking Lake Whitney at Parson's Marina. I hadn't there been before, strangely, and liked it a lot.

The food was good, I can recommend their pepperoni pizza, the view over the lake tranquil and I liked the fishing lodge, marina ambiance of the place. Just a really pleasant way to spend an hour or so after church and with great company to boot.




What good people! Representing several walks of life, law enforcement, banking, engineering, ranching, and all united in the Faith. Were there any libs at the table? No, there were not. Was anyone armed? Woe betide the fool who attempted to rob Shooky's on a Sunday afternoon.

Seriously, I feel blessed by such a good hearted congregation and am amazed at its range. It's easily the most intellectual church I've served but at the same time totally down to earth. From people who write books like I'd like to shoot dove to rodeo stars and all else in between, and right there in Bosque County, Texas.




Who'd have thought it, yet there it is. Go to Shooky's if you get the chance, I think you'll have fun.

God bless,

LSP


Thursday, September 7, 2023

A Sign

 



Every Thursday evening I climb in the rig and drive to Lake Whitney and Mission #2 to say Mass. It's a good drive, taking you over the dam with the mighty Brazos on your left and the lake, sparkling in the sun, to your right. Overhead, the sun beams down from a vast, blue Texan sky.


everywhere a sign note fresh weld

Hot as Hades you mutter, pulling into the church car park, and there it is, a sign saying Priest. Huh, this is new, some kind church person has made this to remind me of who I am and to warn everyone of the same, don't take the priest's place, don't even think it. 

I tell you, they're good people at this church and good job sign maker. You'll note the Cross of St. George inspiring us all.

Slay the Dragon,

LSP

Saturday, August 26, 2023

Recce

 



After a hearty and delicious men's breakfast at Mission #2 I drove 'round the corner to Lake Whitney's dam spillway for a recce. What would the fish be doing? Answer. Nothing at all because the water had turned into a kind of murky, algae bloom disaster.




Fair play, there  were a couple of turtles, but the whole thing looked like a fishing eschaton, so I turned the rig 'round and headed for home, for the Compound. So, that was that and seriously, I've never seen the water look this way over the past 15 years.


clean the dam floor, LSP

Clearly someone's forgotten to pay their Weather Tax.

Ad Solem,

LSP

Thursday, June 22, 2023

The After Mass

 



One of the things that happens here is that we meet at 5.30 pm on Thursdays to worship God in the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass and no, this doesn't mean we blasphemously attempt to repeat the one all-sufficient sacrifice of Christ but rather, by grace, unite ourselves to it. 

Magnum mysterium, to put it mildly, sacramental unity with our Lord's paschal offering of himself for our atonement on Calvary. And right there in supernatural power  in Bosque County, Texas, there on the Altar was Christ's Body and Blood given and shed for us for the forgiveness of sins and the reconciliation of Man to God.




Heaven, for a moment, breaks through to us and we to heaven, "peace be to this house." Then we're dismissed with a benediction and vale, "May almighty God bless you, the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost, this night and forevermore. The Mass has ended, go in peace to love and serve the Lord."

Reflect on this. If Christ is truly present in the Mass, if we meet him and enter into communion with him in the Eucharist, for the forgiveness of of our sins, if all this is true how could any faithful person not want, fervently, to meet our Lord at the Last Supper which is Holy Communion? Yes, judgement for sure, but also mercy and infinite compassion.




That in mind, I was heartened by the congregation this evening, our worship is growing, and waved goodbye to the guys, "See you Saturday (men's group), I'm going fishing." And there it was, Soldiers Bluff, resting under a hot Texan sun, just a minute or two away from the church.

It was beautiful to be out by the water as the sun began to set and fun to catch a scad of little perch who went back in to fight again another day.

God bless you all,

LSP

Tuesday, June 20, 2023

Bluegill Fun

 



If yesterday, "Juneteenth," was all about celebrating famous Scots regiments, today's been about fishing. You see, the last two expeditions to Soldiers Bluff on Lake Whitney were busts, Fish 2, LSP 0 and that dismal record couldn't be allowed to stand. So, after Morning Prayer I geared up, climbed in the rig and headed south west for a counter offensive against the piscine adversary. 

Good thing too, the fish were jumping, predator bass after schools of shad and minnows. Seriously, no end of bait fish and the occasional bass strike thrashing up the water, so I cast off with a topwater torpedo. Big expectation, slow, twitchy retrieve and... nothing. Useless.




Try a worm, and guess what, almost instant tugs and ferocious little bites. Yes, bluegill were back in town and up they came, small at first, then larger. I tell you, those fierce and sometimes not so little beasts put up a fight. Tasty, too, but they all went back.

Then bass started blitzing for shad about 200 yards off, out of my casting range, but would they come in to shore? Almost, they got around 70 yards in and out went a topwater lure, which they hit with thrashing ferocity. I let it sit under assault and waited for an attack fish to take it down into the depths but that didn't happen. 




After a clamorous strike they bounced off and disappeared in search of other prey. The lure, with hindsight, was perhaps a little too large. Still, great action and a near miss or two made up for by brisk bluegill engagement. Fierce fish, light rod, big fun.

Bluegill in mind, I'll keep a few next time and fry 'em up, beer batter style, delicious.

Fish On,

LSP

Monday, June 12, 2023

Just Get Outside And Fish

 



Will last night's apocalyptic storm make the fish bite? Piscine science says wait a bit, it can take up to 72 hours for storm shocked fish to return from deeper waters and go full feeding frenzy. I chose to ignore the science and went fishing anyway.

Guess what, the science seemed to be lacking because there they were, Bass on their ambush ledge at the dam, just like they were before the storm. Huh, and lo and behold, up came a decent fish on the first cast. It got slower after that but sure enough, as per last week, a very decent Black Drum took the bait, fish on and up he came, plenty of fight to boot. Nice.




Everything else in the pool signified Gar action and I wasn't set up for that, so it was over to what used to be called "Uncle Gus' Marina," which used to offer great fishing off bank, cleaning station and pier. Then it didn't because it was bought out and shut for a refurb. 

It's open now and this was my first time back since new management. The pier and cleaning station had gone, sadly, please bring them back, and so had the old marina/boat slips, which are being replaced. Is this good or bad? Time will tell.


what a fight that was, big fish, light rod

In the meanwhile, I wasted no time casting off from the bank with topwater torpedoes because a few fish were jumping and a topwater catch is an awesome catch. But no luck, perhaps these perverse and annoying fish "followed the science" and were locked down in the depths, keeping an antisocial distance from enticing lures.

Regardless, their time will come and it was good to be back at the place again after an absence of a few years. Let's hope new management rebuilds the pier and cleaning station. I tell you, that gave superlative fishing, from perch to cats to bass and beyond, what a lot of fun.




Recce over, it was time to head back to the Compound under the big sky of Texas, a morning well spent.

Cheers,

LSP

Friday, June 9, 2023

Fish On

 



We have choices in life, contrary to Marxist determinism, and such is the beauty of free will. For example, you can sit staring at a screen in slack-jawed trad consternation or you can go fishing. I chose the latter option and pointed the rig at Lake Whitney.


This was once a reef in a vast inland sea

There it was, shining and hazy under a hot Texan sun, but would there be fish and would they bite? I cast off with worms to find out and... nothing, apart from a lazy little Gar who swooped down on my worm, held it in its beak, swam away at leisure for about 60 yards, ate half the worm and dropped the rest. He didn't even run, and who can blame him, it was hot.


Behold Leviathan and the mighty Brazos

Soldiers Bluff being a bust I headed across the dam to try my luck from the pier. Slow going at first but then I spotted them, two stationary Bass on a ledge next to the dam's wall. Off goes the worm, cast a little ahead of the fish, followed by a slow retrieve onto their position. Boom! Strike!


Nice little Drum

A couple of minutes of diving, thrashing, rod double action later up comes a very decent fish. Good fight and back you go, great result. So, send another worm into the depths, untargeted this time, a blind shot and another slow retrieve. And what's this, a tug, and another, hookset! It felt like a Black Drum and sure enough it was, not as cool as a Bass but still, plenty of piscine action.




That complete, it was time to head back to the Compound, mission accomplished. I file this exciting story under "Country Life in Texas."

Tight Lines,

LSP

Thursday, June 8, 2023

Corpus Christi Storm

 



Thunder rumbled like a celestial artillery barrage as the heavens opened and rain lashed down with cascading fury. Seriously, climate change got real and I had to pull over to the side of the road on the way to Mass. Clearly Hill County had forgotten to pay its carbon tax.

But maybe Bosque had because it was clear skies and sunny southern weather once you got over the dam which blocks the mighty Brazos, creating Lake Whitney. A great place to fish, for sure, and a good place to celebrate the Mass to boot, not far from one of Belle Starr's hideouts.


A typical Texas Storm

I keep meaning to visit what's left of her small 100 acre ranch, which once played host to the James Gang and other bushwhackers turned outlaw. All in good time, but in the meanwhile it's Corpus Christi, so here's a prayer.


Deus, qui nobis sub Sacramento mirabili Passionis tuae memoriam reliquisti; tribue, quaesumus, ita nos Corporis et Sanguinis tui sacra mysteria venerari, ut redemptionis tuae fructum in nobis iugiter sentiamus: Qui vivis et regnas in saecula saeculorum. Amen.

 

And in English:


O God, who under a wonderful Sacrament hast left us a memorial of Thy Passion; grant us, we beseech Thee, so to venerate the sacred mysteries of Thy Body and Blood, that we may ever feel within ourselves the fruit of Thy Redemption: Thou who livest and reignest forever and ever. Amen.

 

Powerful prayers and do you think that a nation, people or persons who openly mock God will somehow escape the storm of his judgement?

O Salutaris,

LSP

Friday, December 23, 2022

Bomb Cyclone Winter Eschaton

 



Many of you will laugh and shake your heads in scorn, but it's cold in Texas. Like no kidding, there's ice and even some snow. "Look," I announced in awe to a young soldier, "Snow, see it?" It took a while but he did, "Oh yeah, literal snow, wow." A few wind-driven icy flakes of it anyway.

So layer up, pull on an Arcteryx fleece, dust off the Carhart and face the new Ice Age. Such, my friends, is global warming. You see, the hotter it gets, thanks to people not paying carbon taxes, the colder it becomes.

I was struck by this, driving into a golden sunset across Lake Whitney dam to say Mass as clouds of mist steamed up from the water. Climate change can be dramatic, no doubt about it. Let's zoom in:




The Sacrament confected and the Sacrifice offered, ite missa est, it was time to drive back to the Compound, wary of black ice and grateful for the privilege of being able to celebrate the Eucharist. Where angels fear to tread, eh?




Domine non sum dignus,

LSP

Friday, November 18, 2022

Behold The Light

 



Drive into the light on the way to yesterday's evening Mass at Mission #2, by the lake. There it was, a Texan sunset and there I was, powering into the incandescent beauty of the thing. Is the infinite glory of God revealed to us in creation? It certainly was to me on the way to Lake Whitney and I was reminded of a time, several decades ago now, in London.

It was one of those points when pretty much everything seemed to have collapsed and I was utterly miserable, staying at  Fr. Michael Hollings' eclectic community in Bayswater. He lived, this cousin of the Duke of Norfolk, in a small office which somehow doubled as a bedroom and in I marched to pour out my tale of woe, and it was exceedingly woeful. No kidding.




Well, the priest listened, smiled and said, "Look out of the window at the sky," it was uncharacteristically blue, "and the trees. Beautiful, God is very, very good." So I looked out of the window and yes, it was beautiful, and my heart felt peace at that moment in the revealed goodness our loving God. 

Sentimental, mawkish piety? No. Bear in mind, Hollings had fought at Monte Casino in the Guards, I think as a Major. No small thing, and the point of this story? There's several, not least this. Look out, open your eyes, and behold the glory, goodness and love of God. As even the pagans of antiquity sensed, Sol Invictus. There's immeasurable hope in that.

God bless you all,

LSP

Tuesday, June 21, 2022

Mad Dogs And Englishmen

 



Mad dogs and Englishmen, what do they do? They go out in the noonday sun, or so it's claimed. To test this theory I loaded up the rig with a couple of rods and headed for the lake in the pyramid peak intensity of the Texan sun.

Were there any mad dogs at Soldiers Bluff? Yes there were, doing mad dog stuff on the opposite bank. Was there anyone else? No, there was not, only me, and it was starting to look like the old adage was true. Even the fish, our piscine adversary were lying low.




To test the theory further, I headed over to the other side of the dam, you know, follow the science. And guess what? It was deserted, no one was there, not even a mad dog, they were on the other side of the dam, crazily frolicking in the hot water.

No, there was just one Englishman with a US passport, some frozen shad, a few rods and the ovenlike heat of Texas in the midst of a regular day in June. Hot, so hot your eyelids are sweating while the fish, heatshocked, hang deep in cooler water.




It's a challenge and a good one. You've proved the old noonday axiom, LSP, I thought to myself, grimly tying on a #6 hook, will you get a fish? Serious question, and a seriously bad time to try your luck against our finned friends. You see, they just don't want to know, too busy sensibly sleeping out the heat.

Undeterred, I cast off with shad and worm. But where? Into the shade of the spillway's fishing pier, get the science? And lo and behold, reeled in Black Drum and Perch variants. What does this mean.




That no, fish as well as mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the noonday sun, at least in Texas. Science has shown us this. Also, it may be hot as a preheating oven but get out there in the country and fish. Good for mind, body and soul.

Tight Lines,

LSP

Tuesday, May 10, 2022

Serfs Can't Have This

 



What can we say? The beauty of modern engineering.




What a charger!




RAP Adjustable, too.



Too bad it all sunk beneath the waves of Lake Whitney in a tragic kayak trip. Oh well, win some lose some. Maybe powerful magnets on the end of ropes will bring this custom bad boy up from the depths. In the meanwhile, the Ukraine's recovering from an onslaught of Bono/Edge, Justine Trudeau, Doc Jill, Pelosi and the hideous BoJo clown.

Yes, they're shell shocked. Let's see how this beast shoots.

Your Pal,

LSP

Friday, March 25, 2022

Annunciation

 



It's the great and glorious Feast of the Annunciation today, so to mark the angel Gabriel's message to Our Lady I said the Angelus and Divine Office at Mission #2's Marian shrine. I know, that sounds pious and curatelike but so what, there's no "rule," except that outdoor shrines to Our Lady have  power, even the humblest.

Then, in a spirit of Stella Maris it made sense to head to the lake. The water was down and clear, would there be fish? So on went polarized glasses and the piscine recce patrol commenced, know the water, catch the fish sort of thing.




Apart from a small school of Buffalo Carp, gliding like submarines seeking whom they may devour, nothing. The surge wasn't on, though it will be in a week or two. I'm looking forward to that and have to renew a license.

Back at the Compound birds and squirrels are fighting ferocious turf wars, it's like Donetsk, Kiev, Kherson, Kharkov or Mariupol except the protagonists are our furred and feathered friends. Speaking of which, if they were bigger would they eat us?




Dog's wouldn't, so much, and that's in their favor. Cats? Different story.

God bless,

LSP


WE beseech thee, O Lord, pour thy grace into our hearts; that, as we have known the incarnation of thy Son Jesus Christ by the message of an angel, so by his cross and passion we may be brought into the glory of his resurrection; through the same Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.