STRIPER

One of the best things about being an Illuminati Master is you get to go on guided Striper tours. And that's what we did, rounded up some NWO elite and went fishing.

Before you could say Davos the fish were biting. Boom, in comes a Striper like some kind of CDS gone wrong. And then... nothing much, almost as though the algos were taking it easy.

Then BOOM again. Rod goes double once, then twice, then... pick it up and reel the monster in. No kidding. Reel. It. In. And that's not easy when a ferocious Striper's making like some kind of ferocious shark. Gave me blisters.

I tell you, big fun. And tasty too, Striper makes for good grilling and guess what? Unlike the rest of your food you know where it comes from.

Destroy the NWO and fish on,

LSP

Striper! No, Not Stormy

 

Fishing wisdom says there's not much point trying to catch fish mid-afternoon when the sun's high in the sky, it's roastingly hot at 106* and the fish are stunned into stasis by the heat. They just lay there, suspended in a kind of piscine daze, not biting. 

So don't bother fishing in these conditions, runs the wisdom, it's about as pointless as trying to get Anderson Cooper into conversion therapy.

Moral Arbiter

All this ran through my mind as I loaded up the rig and headed for water. Why am I doing this, I wondered. Because I had to get out and tilt my lance at fishing wisdom, I wanted to catch fish against the odds. 

A challenge, sort of thing. Not unlike trying to convince a Democrat that peace with Russia isn't treason, or even Pearl Harbor cubed.

A Perch

Whatever. By some miracle of modern technology I reached the lake without the truck melting into the asphalt and surveyed the scene. No one was there and who can blame them? They didn't want to be baked into an early Brennanlike senescence. 

Undaunted, I cast off with a split shot, small hook worm rig and was getting bites from the get-go, but couldn't close the deal. Small perch were obviously on the scene so I switched out the hook for something even smaller, miraculously the mono didn't ignite, and result, caught 5 perch.

Striper!

They weren't large and the last was perhaps the smallest. Put him to work! I thought, like Trump trying to cure our urban hellhole inner cities. Still, I wasn't counting on anything, it was the last cast. But what a cast. 

After a minute or two, the mouth-hooked perch seemed to get vigorous in the water and  I loosened the drag, instinctively. Good intuition because the line started playing out like fury, a fish was on as opposed to the perch playing around. So tighten it up, set the hook and reel it in.

Eye of the Beholder

And out came a voracious Striper who'd pretty much swallowed the perch whole. He went back to fight again another day and I went back to the Compound in the searing heat of the afternoon.

Reward. The Compound's Finally Getting Painted...

Moral of the story? Hungry Stripers, don't say Stormy,  will eat pretty much anything.

Tight lines,

LSP

Striper!

The sun loomed large and fiery in the rear view mirror and with it the promise of fish, the mighty Striper; and thanks to a friend's generosity we had a guide to put us there. Great result and a morning full of promise. Would it deliver?

It did, though it took a while, perhaps because the thunder, lightning and torrential rain of the night before had stunned the fish. After all, they're not used to Texas paying its weather tax.

Still, within a short blast across the lake we were getting results. Watch that rod go double and double again, as the ferocious predators tore into live shad. Big fun and a taste of things to come.

After an hour of scudding across the water from spot to spot, worth it for the ride alone, we ran into a school of Striper. There we were, waiting, when all of a sudden the bite switched on. 

Brisk action, as rod after rod twitched and was pulled down into the water; it was fish on and make no mistake, right on the stroke of 11 am.

We limited out shortly and headed back to the marina after a friendly chat with a game warden, who floated over to say hi. 

He has his hands full, dealing with lake riff-raff, clowns on speed boats and ne'er do wells up to aquatic skulduggery. Good guy. Then it was time to leave the lake, mission accomplished.

Big thanks to Pat and S.O. for a great day out on the water and a freezer full of Striper.

Fish on,

LSP

Get On The Striper

I'll be honest, I've never been on a guided Striper expedition until today and I was wondering, at 0-Dark-Thirty, if it was worth the predawn call to rods. I needn't have worried.

I was immediately impressed by our guide, Pat, and his workmanlike boat, which had that air of I know what we're doing, you're going to catch fish, gentlemen, and sure enough we did.

After motoring out a short way into the gargantuan inland sea that is Lake Whitney, we anchored off an underwater point which showed an abundance of bait fish on the Hummingbird. Then he patiently explained the tactics. 

"Drop the line to the bottom and come up three cranks," he had the depth spot on, "Then put the rod in the holder and wait. When you get a hit, wait and wait again, patience, let that Striper take it down. Then he's yours, reel him in. Here, I'll bait your hook."

One live Shad three cranks up and I didn't have long to wait before the rod was bending double off the boat. Pick it up and wrestle with the mighty Striper, surging and fighting like the predator it is. But  14LB test and a sharp Kahle #3 proved too much for the Leviathan and up he came into the boat and a waiting cooler.

This went on, again and again, until we'd all limited out, after about an hour. Brisk action, I tell you, and it got to the point where Bass were hitting the bait on the way down, steam-training into the Shad with prehistoric aggression. 

It was like Jaws, especially when the monsters dived under the boat. Would it capsize and the hunters become the hunted? That didn't happen, fortunately, and all too soon it was time to head back to the marina where Pat cleaned the fish and I have to say, you couldn't wish for a better guide.

Needless to say, there's no shortage of fish in the fridge.

Tight lines,

LSP