Hijacked!

The great thing about the day after Pentecost is that you get to go fishing, at least that was the plan. Walk the dog, get a coffee at the pick 'n steal, then head off to the fish zone. A simple, elegant, straightforward Monday solution and it was going so well. Then the key snapped in the lock of the front door.

The View

I stared hard at that lock. Maybe telekenesis would move the key. No, it didn't, fail. Then I tried to pry the key out of its lair with needle nose pliers, a knife, and nail cutters. That didn't work either. Useless. So what do you do?

The Cry Babies

Sit around whining, like a cry baby, spoiled brat social justice warrior, and accuse the keyed up lock of oppressive gender stereotyping? Or maybe you stand there, open-mouthed like a Bass, hoping that the State will step in and fix the lock, with its big government magic? 

The Cylinder

You can try all that; sure, go ahead, just don't be surprised when your lock stays permanently broken. I chose a different path, I took the thing apart.

The Cam

Getting the key out of the cylinder wasn't too hard and I took it to the hardware store, where a helpful keysmith cut me a new one, using the broken offender as a model. He assured me "it wouldn't work." Thanks, key bloke. But it did, and everything turned out fine, except for the fishing, which didn't happen.

The Fix

So there it is, a fishing experdition stopped dead in its tracks by locksmithery. I'll have to make up for that tomorrow.

Cheers,

LSP

Go Fishing, After Mass

God never did make a more calm, quiet, innocent recreation 

than angling.  

Izaak Walton

With Walton's Compleat Angler in mind I went fishing, after Mass. It was good to stand on the bluffs overlooking Lake Whitney and cast off in the hope of big fish, though I was more in it for relaxation and quiet concentration than anything else.

Not knowing the water, I tried the shotgun approach, which means throwing in a variety of lures to see if anything works, in this case plastics, spinners, a silver spoon and a crankbait shad. No result with the plastic worms and the spoon got hung up as I bounced it off the bottom. Contrary to the spirit of Mr. Walton, I made a bit of a ruckus trying to unsnag the thing but no joy, the lure was stuck, so I cut the line. Just then, a large gray Catfish rose up from the depths and circled around and above the watery tomb of the spoon. It was like a baby shark, no fooling.

Compleat

This taught me that big Catfish live under the bluffs on that part of the lake and that they can and will be caught if I fish accordingly. Think positive, fisherman. After the spoon, I had a bit of action on the crankbait, which was partially hit by a Bass as it lured its way near the surface, but no strike and I called it a day.

Look. It's a Fish.

Just for kicks, I cast off in a shallow part of the water on the way to the truck, using a small green spinner. Why not? Maybe the fish will find it irresistible, I thought to myself, and sure enough, after a couple of casts a ferocious little Bass attacked the lure like a social justice warrior at a Trump rally. And that was that.

Fish on,

LSP

Go Fishing After Mass

There's all kinds of ways you can relax on Sunday afternoon after Mass and I'll share one option with you. Go to a lake somewhere in central Texas and catch some fish, or at least try. With that in mind, I put a rod in the bed of the rig, Blue Crankbait in the cab and drove off to RV with GWB at a lake.

Hope Springs Eternal

Would I catch any fish, I asked myself hopefully, as Blue Eschaton frisked and gamboled in the lakeside pasture. Remembering past success, I put a sparkly green worm on a Bass hook and cast off. Bass love sparkly green worms, I thought, full of pescatorial wisdom. 

A Bass

Strike! Fish on, the rod bent double and out played the line. Big excitement in LSPland, I can tell you, and after a decent fight I reeled in a Bass. Good result. A little later, GWB tipped up and cast off with a spinner but soon retired to watch a Sand Hill Crane through a spotting scope. There it was, a Sandhill Crane. 

Recon

I kept fishing, however, which is a sport that's all about perseverance, and was rewarded with a fair sized Catfish that struck my plastic worm near the surface. Again, big excitement, top water hi-jinx, but he slipped the hook after thrashing about in the water like an enraged Great White. Readers, all three of you, don't underestimate the fury of the fish. Then, as the sun was beginning to set, another Bass decided to strike, this time hitting a blue worm. Bass love blue plastic worms. Well, at least this one did, and that was that.

A Typical Texas Sunset

Fishing adventure over, we scouted out the land near the lake for potential predator calling and hunting. It's beautiful country and remarkably green and lush, which will change all too soon under the fierce Texan sun; the country even has hills and views, or vistas. Rremarkable, it's like Gloucestershire, except for the bobcats, snakes, coyotes and wild pigs.

Speaking of which, the man who farms there says that pigs are always a problem and I guess they are, except when they're on the grill.

God bless Texas,

LSP

Lemmy, Rest in Peace

You once told me to ***k Off.

That is my claim to fame.

Rest in Peace.

LSP

Fishing

Don't get me wrong, shooting is great, but fishing is neat too. So I loaded up the truck with some rods and headed off to Lake Whitney.

The Lake's still high and right  out of the gate one of the team caught a Bass with a long tail worm on a Texas rig. Big excitement, which was tempered, a bit, by the young 'un dropping the fish before we could get a picture. It swam away to fight again another day. 

Then one of the boys fell in the lake and had to dry out in the sun while the other caught a fish with his cowboy hat. The hat was strangely waterproof; you can get them from Cavender's for $24. Keeps the sun off and doubles as a net, quite a deal.

Later on a  friendly fisherman gave us a couple of Perch to use as bait and that was fun but didn't result in any strikes. He'd been there since 5.30 am and had only caught Perch, 6 of them.

As midday came and went, and the sun beat down, we headed for the Compound.

Well done, Team, and you never know, maybe next time I'll catch something...

LSP

Catch Fish, Welby Goes Gay!

1st Second of Forever

I was going to head off to "Slap Out" to ride but the plan changed. Instead of driving to Hubbard, where they're "slap out" of stuff, I drove towards Itasca and visited a parishioner with a stocked stock tank. The plan was simple, catch fish, LSP!

Spinner

With this objective front and center of the mental HUD I drove across the fields to the tank, parked up under the shade of a tree and gazed at the water. There were fish there, I knew that. Blue Gill, Catfish, Bass. How to get them?

Chatterjig

I decided on a twofold approach. Drop some bait for the cats under a slip bobber towards the center of the tank and cast with smallish lures with rod #2 while waiting for the cats to bite. The casting part of the plan worked pretty well, with 6 Bass striking the lures. 

Das Boot

Their favorite, interestingly, was a small white chatterbait with a silver grub, and without the skirt, turning it into a kind of jig. A "chatterjig" I suppose; whatever, the Bass loved it and I lost track and time of the bobber, which drifted gently to the shore without catching much except an early catfish.

How did you get here?

Now, the odd thing about this episode is that the tank is obviously rich in Bass but it was never stocked with them. A miracle, obviously. 

how very gay

In other news, old Etonian oil executive, Archbishop of Canterbury Justin Welby, has gone gay(er). You can read about it in the Telegraph. Welby, you'll note, has fish on his miter; he wasn't at the tank this afternoon.

Cheers,

LSP

The Standing Wave

"Riverfront"

Dallas is a strange place. One minute you're there on the corner of Crack and Grand and the next you're at this "water feature" within sight of the glass cathedrals to Mammon that make up the city's skyline.

Downtown from the Trinity

What happened was that the City decided to create a white-water fun zone called the Standing Wave on the Trinity river and several million dollars later there's a series of quasi dams underneath and immediately downstream from the Santa Fe trestle and the modern DART light rail bridge. Its part of a larger plan to turn the Trinity into an enjoyable, attractive, accessible asset rather than a dumping ground for noxious chemicals, trash and body parts.

Standing Wave Santa Fe Trestle

The water boils and churns and is, apparently, far too dangerous for the kind of fun-for-all-the-family kayaking that the City Fathers envisaged. So perhaps the scheme needs honing, but whatever, it's a fish magnet.

Nice Natural landscaping, Dallas...

I like to go there after early Mass on Fridays and try my luck against the monster Gar, Channel Cats, and Buffalo fish that seem to love the Standing Wave. Mostly it's deserted and I have the place to myself, which is good. But sometimes I get company, like the Bow Fish Killer (BFK).

Churn

There I am, lost in the world of trying to get Buffalo fish to swallow the worm that hides the #8 hook, when all of a sudden I hear a hiss and turn around. There's a dude with a compound bow and dark Terminator shades looking at me and tweaking. Our conversation went something like this:

BFK: SSSS!! Twk, Twk!!

LSP: S'up?

BFK: Any Gar? Alligator Gar?!?

LSP: For sure...

BFK: There's Buffs (Buffalo fish) man.

LSP:  I know (I was trying to catch them).

And there is that Leviathan

Next thing I know, my new pal BFK is leaping downstream waving his bow and the next minute he's back carrying this huge "Buff" which he's shot through the gut. He throws it down to me as a ind of offering.

BFK: Here you go man, cut bait!!

LSP: Er, thanks. Right on!

Full of bloodlust, BFK runs off to get another Buff to hack up and use as Gar bait.

Little Fella

I'm no prude and have nothing against cut bait or bow fishing in the right circs but... things were getting weird, so I packed up, climbed in the truck and headed for home.

Fish on,

LSP

Fish

Fish On

I wouldn't want anyone to think I was some kind of stereotype, or something, so I eagerly took up a friend's offer to go Kayak Fishing on the Brazos, on the outskirts of Waco, off I35.

We stopped at Walmart to pick up some spinners and lures and I seized the opportunity to spray my legs with insect repellent, or sunscreen, which I found open at the sporting goods counter. I got into a fight about that with a Walmart person. but don't worry, it wasn't a real fight, just a verbal.

some guy facing off a bear with a hatchet

Fleeing Walmart we stopped at a Starbucks because I wanted a Latte, and spied a senior philosophy prof (?) from Baylor. I resisted the urge to hurl unkind taunts about "old bald head" and reminded my friend about Elijah and the bears.

fish

Then a whole lot of fun kayaking along the river -- the fish (Bass) were jumping and I was catching nothing until we pulled into some shallows and cast from there. Caught a baby Bass and a Drum(?) and as always felt inordinately pleased at the catch. Put the fish back and progressed upstream to home.

Fish Rising

Great fun. Message? Fish more often, get a boat.

Fish on,

LSP