RESET

 

Did you enjoy the Updike? No matter, time for a reset. No, not WEF style, instead team LSP went on an exeat to Paris, Paris TX. By way of background: a few years ago, several people pounded the mahogany in the Compound's dining room over dinner. Fun, and here's the thing, they wanted to start a farm, a Battle Farm, which they did.

Some six years or so later, lo and behold, 80 acres outside of Paris, complete with a chicken operation, a good size tank with Bass and all of that. Sure, it's a work in progress, but hey, they actually went ahead and did it. Well done, kids.

CW caught a Bass, which is a fine thing to do

You'll be interested to know the prime movers behind this rural adventure are vets, they're also converts from Anglicanism to Orthodoxy. I wish them well, what a lot of fun to escape for a few days and not look at a computer.

Cheers,

LSP

We Live Vicariously

 

Well, sometimes. An old friend's busy doing some sound magicke at London's famous RAK studios and sent me this:

Caption, "Look who lives on the wall here." Hey, let's hear it for Lemmy. Dam straight.

Your Pal,

LSP

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

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

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

Look At That Striper!

 

Don't get me wrong, catching perch is fun but catching striper is awesome. There we were after Mass, pitting wits and worms against junior bluegill when the water erupted about 30 yards off the bank. I figured it was sand bass blitzing on minnows and tied on a topwater lure.

Out it went, wait, then a zig-zag retrieve back to shore. About two thirds of the way back the water surged under the lure and a fish hit it like a steam train, taking the silvery, rattling, plastic prey down into the depths. Behold rod double action as the fish dived and tried to run, this was surely more than a regular sandy or hybrid. And sure enough it was, out came a striper.

I love topwater fishing. There's something about the explosive impact of the fish striking the lure, amped up, full of ferocious, predatory drive; it's going to get the prey before its competition. Then the fight's on. And with that, have a blessed Feast of the Transfiguration.

Tight lines,

LSP

Fish On

 

There you are, sitting on the porch. It's hot, and you've prayed the morning Office, walked to the Pick 'n Steal, drunk that 20 ounce Yeti tumbler of coffee, checked the news and wondered if "hell in a handbasket" isn't too mild. So what to do? Go fishing, of course.

And that's what happened, put those CDC Stasi guidelines in your knapsack and head off to the water, to what used to be a Cretaceous sea. 20 minutes later, there I was, casting off from the prehistoric reef, sun beating down with ferocious intensity. Would the fish bite?

Sure enough they did, round about Midday. Pretty much every cast a fish, and all Perch/Bluegill, some of them large and full of fight. In fact, they were all full of fight and I lost count. Great result. Then, just as I was beginning to melt, a fierce, predatory tug. Drag out, rod double, what's this? A good sized Bass, in you come.

Walking back to the truck meant walking over countless fossils, the crystallized relics of our primeval past. There they were, frozen in stone, under the glare of a Texan sun. Imagine, if you can, a series of great reefs, breaking up a sea which stretched from the Gulf of Mexico to Austin and beyond. Or something like that.

Above it glided Pterosaurs and in the water, ferocious beasts. Perhaps today's fish are their descendants, they're certainly fierce enough. In other news, some pals are fishing in the sea, off some island. Blessed are ye poor.

Tight Lines,

LSP

Texas is Very Awesome

How can Texas be awesome when the very air itself threatens to ignite, like an air bomb? Surely this sounds more like the anteroom of Hell than anywhere good. 

Not so fast, team. Yes, it may be hot but there are benefits, such as frontier style bluffs and Patriot Barges. No one's defunding the police here because they're not stupid.

And fish. Lots of fish, even in the heat of a late August afternoon. I know this because, after visiting with the flock, I headed over to the marina for some action, and got it. 

A lot of perch, mostly small but pretty much every cast a fish, always good, and few large, ferocious, piranha style keepers, which I didn't keep. Again, wasn't in the mood to clean, beer batter and fry 'em up. Foolish, I know, tomorrow being Friday, but whatever. Next time.

Then, at the very end, something ferocious took the line. Tug! Hookset! drag out, well at least for a bit, and up came a random predator bass. Great result. Bass on, what a lot of fun. And while some say fishing's a kind of therapy for trauma, conscious or otherwise, it's also good in itself. Fast, sometimes furious aquatic action. I find this exciting, like hunting but on the water.

Mission accomplished, I headed back to the safety of the Compound and it began to rain. Yes, rain. Beautiful, and yet another reason to thank God for his glory and Texas for awesomeness.

Your Friend,

LSP

Fish On, Commies

Do you feel our nation's at a turning point, a crisis, an existential decision which freedom-loving patriots have to make against God-hating, freedom-despising Marxists? Feels that way, at least to me, so to get some air I went fishing.

Nothing fancy, just the marina on Lake Whitney, and lo and behold, caught a good Bass, a junior Cat, and a handful of Perch. Big fun and I lost count. But all of this action was on a casting rod armed with worms, it produced, obviously.

The second rod was equipped with a Perch head, cast into the depths and left there. I was hoping it'd attract the BIG FISH. You know, leviathan cats, monster bass and on. 

Sure enough, the Perch head magic started to work and the rod twitched, bobbed, went double and on more than a few times. But I didn't close the deal.

In fact, the fish closed the deal, stealing one perch head and one perch tail, leaving the hook to fend for itself. Huh. Next time I'll cut the bait up into smaller chunks, easier for the predatory, cannibalistic fish to get their mouth around.

Is there a moral in this? Quite possibly. Would it be better in a boat? That's another question again.

Your Old Pal,

LSP

Birds And Fish

It was like a scene from a Hitchcock movie, walk outside into the overcast light of a Texan spring morning and what happens, a bird screeches defiance. 

No matter, just a bird, then it swoops down on your head like a feathered Stuka in the skies of Crete. I somehow made it to the rig and back again, dive bombed by the avian terrorist.

And good thing too, because I had to load up for a trip to the dam and  fish, winged predators notwithstanding.

Now, some of you fish for relaxation and quiet reflection on the water. I do too but more so for action, which means catching, otherwise I grow bored. That in mind, I tend to put out a static line, perhaps on a bobber, and keep myself occupied with a casting rod, armed, usually, with worms.

The combo can produce great results.There's that Gar bait doing its thing on the one line and there you are, casting for opportunity. Than BAM, rod #1 goes double and so does rod #2.  Makes you leap about. Big fun and there was a bit of that at the dam spillway, fast action.

Several drum, bass, junior striper and perch later, I was back at the Compound, and so was the bird. It screeched, enraged, as I got back home, mission accomplished. Moral? Fishing's better than staring in boneheaded, slack-jawed, blank-faced consternation at your screen.

Tight lines,

LSP

Fishing & Antedeluvia

It was an overcast Spring morning in rural Texas and Soldiers Bluff looked beckoning, "Come on down and fish," it seemed to say. Which is what I did, but the fish weren't having any of it, they were lying low and didn't want the juicy, tempting, delicious worms I was throwing in. 

Still, there were a few fossils, rocky remains of ancient crustaceans embedded in the limestone and clay bluff above the lake. To be honest, there's fossils everywhere here, a tangled  mix of roots, branches, shells, and who knows what else, the set in stone remains of ancient cataclysm. I always hope I'll spot something useful, like a T Rex tooth, but not today, just a couple of shells.

Now, some who read this lighthearted mind blog believe fossils like these are at most 6000 years old. If that's the case, what about structures like Gobekli Tepe, which date back to at least 9000 BC? Remarkably ancient and advanced to boot, all at a time when humans were supposed to be grubbing about for nuts, berries and the occasional bit of unfortunate wildlife. 

Two things don't add up here. Firstly, the Word of God in Scripture isn't supposed to be read with a kind of boneheaded, blank-faced literalism. Read it for its truth, for sure, but know this involves poetry, symbol and metaphor as well as literal reckoning. Note, to think this doesn't make you a useless, pathetic, scornworthy, lib heretic. 

Secondly, mankind is very old, with Homo Sapiens appearing earlier and earlier in the fossil record as new discoveries are found. All this in our own century, to say nothing of ignored and anomalous finds in the last two hundred years or so, and the witness of ancient records.

It would be odd, don't you think, if people as intelligent as us remained at the hunter gather stage for several hundreds of thousands of years. Which is exactly what orthodox archeo-anthropology teaches; finds like Gobekli, water erosion on the Sphinx, and on, challenge the narrative. 

That in mind, I decided to challenge the piscine narrative of "no catching" by moving over to the other side of the dam. At first nothing, so I changed rigs in hope of having some sport with the Gar, who were gliding about the pool like deadly, prehistoric submarines.

Good call, LSP, but no Gar. Instead, a fierce  Crappie followed by a ferocious Bass, and a large Bluegill. Result. Then it began to rain and it was time to head for home, mission accomplished.

Fish on,

LSP

Super Tuesday

Go to the dam and fish, what a great plan, elegant in its simplicity. But how did it work out? Slowly, to be honest, with the slipway waters churning and surging and the fish not biting. Who can blame them, they were surely shell-shocked by the current.

Pedro wasn't having any luck either at the other end of the pier, so I watched the mighty Brazos for a meditative moment or two then headed over to Soldiers' Bluff. Maybe the bite'd be on at the Bluff, which isn't a bluff anymore since it was flooded by the dammed up river.

Reflections on Brazos and Bosque County history aside, the waters of the lake were still and tranquil under the big sky and the bank was empty, peaceful. It had that topwater feel, but I went with worms instead.

Nothing, then a chime on the phone, a text, "I'm hoping for Sanders with plurality, a contested convention at which they hand it to Biden, and then RIOTS." This obviously worked as some kind of trigger because there was vicious tug on the line and out it played.

Up came a predatory socialist bass who was clearly in the business of snatching up free stuff. I put him back to find some other means of production to appropriate, before going berserk when Comrade Bernie's cheated of the nomination yet again. 

One more bass later, a baby, it was time to head for home, mission accomplished. And that, fellow adventurers on the roiling seas of life, is the story of that.

Fish on,

LSP

Go To The Lake

It seemed right to go fishing today so I drove to the lake, which is high because of torrential rain. First stop, the dam spillway and there was the mighty Brazos, in full flood.

A couple of guys were trying their luck but not catching anything and I took in the sight for a reflective moment or two before heading to the other side of the dam.

It was deserted and no wonder, there was hardly any accessible shoreline to cast off from but I clambered down the rip rap and sent a torpedo out onto the glassy water. Fish were jumping, mostly just out of range and all made sure to avoid enticing topwater lures.

Still, it was good to get out in the open Texan air and watch the tranquil water of the lake, to say nothing of the tantalizing excitement of topwater fishing. 

Would the monster Bass you knew were lurking in the murky depths explode on the lure with piscine fury? You know they're there and you know they'll go for that lure like a Trump Train on full steam, you've seen it before. It could happen at any moment.

But it didn't, so I headed back to the Compound where I discovered CPL's got himself into a nasty little pit of $4.5 million, and all the rest. Don't say MillSoc hubris.

Did you watch Trump in Houston? It was huge. Unprecedented?

MAGA,

LSP