Showing posts with label Bass. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bass. Show all posts

Monday, June 26, 2017

Don't Be A Pathetic Lib, Fish



Now that the risible "Russians hacked the election" narrative is dying the death of a thousand failing PR spins, the team decided to go fishing. We'd tried Soldiers Bluff the day before and the young 'un did well with a good sized Hybrid but I struck out. Today would be different, I promised, at the dam spillway.




Sure enough it was. The water churned and foamed and we cast off with circle hooks and worms. A few minutes in and Boom! out came a decent Black Drum and we could see the Gar schooling off the current. Big excitement as the prehistoric looking river monsters circled and prowled like submarines in search of prey.




After a few false starts, as the fickle Gar took the bait, ran with it and then let go, I felt an encouraging tug on the line. That firmed up, the rod bent double and the fight was on; I thought I'd caught a Catfish but no, a big Bass broke the surface and tried to run downstream. Sorry fish, you're coming in and up came a decent sized Leviathan. Great result.




Then the Cadet started catching, Black Drum, and that's the main thing. You want kids to experience the action so that they get into the sport. Otherwise they'll be tempted to write it all off as a boring game of waiting for endlessly non-appearing evidence and give up. Or worse yet, be forced to retract the story altogether as a phony piece of CNN-style agitprop.




That wasn't the case today; it was fish on and thank you mighty Brazos for the opportunity.

Tight lines,

LSP


Thursday, May 18, 2017

Fish On, Hillary For Jail



Rather than talk about the urgent necessity of appointing a Special Counsel to bring Hillary to justice, I'll just post about fishing. That's one of the many benefits of LSPland, you can visit the flock and fish, all at the same time.




There were all kinds of panfish in the water at my friend's slip and for a while it was pretty much a fish with every cast. Some ferocious Bluegill fighters, too, and a couple of Bass for good measure. Huge fun and I should've brought a cooler.




I left as the sun was setting over the lake and the air smelled like Texas, sage, mesquite, cedar and cooling limestone. I love that.

Hillary For Jail,

LSP

Tuesday, May 16, 2017

More Fishing



Yesterday's fishing was slow. Like the corrupt, lying, elite, venal, condescending, pugnacious mainstream media attempting to find proof of Trump acting as a Russian spy, not a lot was happening. A lot of trying, a lot of fishing, but no catching to speak of. 




Similar, come to think of it, to the infamous Kremlins hacking our election. No end of frenzied searching, no end likewise of not finding the elusive beasts. But that was yesterday, today was different.




Today the fish were biting like a Trump Train on full power. Boom. First off, a Megabass hit my worm  in the pool of Lake Whitney dam spillway, then took off ferociously upstream. No use, fish, you're coming in, if only to live to fight again another day.




No sooner was the gigantosaurian Bass back in the water than a Striper came in, and on and on it went. In the end my arms grew tired from reeling in the monsters, Black Drum, Stripers, Catfish, Bass and a lone Bluegill.




It made for some some brisk and satisfying action and then it was over, fish back in the Brazos and me in a truck heading back to the compound, time well spent.

Tight lines,

LSP

Thursday, May 11, 2017

Fish On


Life at the Compound isn't just about riding and shooting, it's also about fishing and with that in mind we headed out to Lake Whitney with rods and a cooler, in search of aquatic sport. Come on, team, let's catch some fish, was my war cry, but would we?  

I wasn't sure and that was unsettling because it was important for Harrison, who had traveled all the way from the UK for a God, guns and country life in Texas experience, to catch his first fish. JS, who's a well known art philosopher,was content to watch. Exactly, watch, watch us catching fish. So the heat, as it were, was on. But I needn't have worried.



Within a few minutes of casting off, Harrison was getting bites and triumphantly reeled in his first Bluegill. Good work! That was followed up by some six more of the same, a decent Crappie and a baby Bass or two. In the meanwhile, I'd managed to catch a small if aggressive junior Bass. Slow going, LSP.



Then things took off a bit and I brought in a Bass and a Bluegill that were worth keeping. They went into the cooler and we headed back to base for a quick lesson in filleting. And I tell you this, the fish tasted better for being caught and cleaned yourself. Lake to table and thank you very much.

Excellent result, and well done H on your first fish. Mission accomplished.

Tight lines,

LSP

Friday, March 24, 2017

Republican Healthcare Shambles, Go Fishing



Well done, Republicans. One of the reasons people voted you into power was to repeal Obamacare and you've failed to do that. How many other election promises will you break? Some, all, most? Who knows, and rather than reflect on this unsettling question I went fishing.




It was tranquil as the sun set behind the limestone bluffs overlooking Lake Whitney and I cast off from the solitude of the bank, enjoying the peaceful sound of the line as it played out across the sun-reflecting water.  Very peaceful, unless you're a fierce voracious fish.




Within minutes, an underwater predator plowed into my worm, diving and pulling against the line, a Drum. Next up, a decent little Bass took the bait, thrashing and leaping, big fun. But imagine what those fish would be like if they were large; deadly.




Then the action slowed down, with more fish sneakily eating the bait off the hook than striking. Still, I reeled in a couple of Bluegill and so what if they're small, they put up a fight. And that was that, an uplifting couple of hours in the clean lakeside air of an early Texan spring evening.




What a good result unlike, say, the useless, dismal, failing performance of the Republican Party, who can't live up to one of their most basic election promises. Our corrupt, lying, hypocritical, elitist, smug, mendacious and venal mainstream media will doubtless run and run with this story. But hey, maybe it's all part of the art of the deal.

Fish on,

LSP

Saturday, March 18, 2017

Fish Soldier's Bluff



Well. I didn't follow my own advice and watch Leprechaun, awesome though it is, and I didn't drink any Guinness, annoyingly. But I did go to Soldier's Bluff after Evening Prayer in search of fish.




It was a bust at first and I thought it'd stay that way. Then, as the bright sun started to go down, the fish started nibbling and then biting. Out came 5 Blue Gill and one small Bass in short order. Good result.




Apart from the excitement of catching the small but feisty fish, it was simply good to get out in the open air and enjoy the view of the lake from the bank. 




I gave my left over worms to some kids, I hope they caught something, and you can view excerpts from the adventure at, ahem, Incredible Video!

Fish on,

LSP

Wednesday, October 19, 2016

The Crossing



One of the baker's half-dozen who reads this eccentric internet backwater sent this in, by Cormac McCarthy:

"Every man's death is a standing in for every other. And since death comes to all there is no way to abate the fear of it except to love the man who stands for us. We are not waiting for his history to be written. He passed here long ago. That man who is all men and who stands in the dock for us until our own time comes and we must stand for him. Do you love him, that man? Will you honor the path he has taken? Will you listen to his tale?"

I reflected on that as I fished below the dam after a round of bereavement visits. We must stand for him; I like that, in fact I like all of it.

God bless,

LSP

Tuesday, October 4, 2016

Spillway Action



I had two objectives, apart from seeing Hillary behind bars, the first being to show my Wittgensteinian pal, GWB, the sheer value and power of the weightless worm rig (WWR). The second, obviously, was to make up for Sunday's washout and catch a lot of fish.

Things got off to a slow start. AT&T came over and gave the Compound a new internet called "Uverse." The tech who installed the Internet was alright, friendly, competent, and good with dogs. I was taken aback by all these things. Well done, AT&T guy. Then we noticed that GWB's rig had a flat tire, as flat as Hillary's bogus "woman who cares for the people" act. So that had to be fixed.




In the end, a couple of hours late and in the heat of the day, we got to the dam. Sure enough, there were lots of fish, especially great hunter-killer packs of Gar, suspended in search of prey. And plenty of other fish too, just like in Seaworld. So we cast off with the worms and I have to say the action was sluggish. 

I hauled in a Black Drum and a couple of Hybrids but that was it, GWB wasn't getting anything either. "The fish hate your useless worm rig, so-called LSP," he chided, and swapped out to lures and plastics. I liked that, work out what artificials the fish like and report back. Then things changed.


Ho, Ho! A Bass. Boom.

Casting downstream off the end of the pier, I noticed a lot of Bass in the water, flashing in their quest to get upstream, into the pool and into the jaws of the waiting Gar. Twitch, tap, Boom. A Bass was on and fighting ferociously, and in he came. Good work, WWR. I alerted GWB to the spot and before long he was reeling in a Bass with every cast, all on a Texas rigged green ribbontail. Nice action.


Oh, Well Done, LSP, You Caught a Fish

I joined in with live worms and got the same result, big fun, then moved off in search of Catfish. And they were biting; I reeled in a decent sized fighter and a couple of juniors, then returned to the Bass. They were still on; then, just as though a switch had been flicked, the feeding frenzy was over. Time to go.




And that, readers, was that. I find great satisfaction in fishing, in case you wondered. Anticipation and the excitement of the strike, the fight itself, and just being outside in the country. To say nothing of reeling in the fierce predators. 

Next stop? Get back on the horse and shoot some guns.

Your Friend,

LSP


Sunday, June 12, 2016

Texas Crazy Rain



One of the things the team looks forward to after Sunday Mass is fishing, and not just any old fishing. No, we like to go to a secret location somewhere in Texas and catch enormous, absurdly large, leviathan size Bass on light rods. Just a whole lot of fun.

That plan didn't work out because of the threat of rain and because one of the team decided to go fishing in Venice instead, which is ironic, given that the place is flooded. So I went down another route, and drove to Lake Aquilla.




Not a bad option. As the storm was coming in, thunderclouds looming, boats were pulling into the ramp and the scene was soon deserted. Just me, the still-before-the-storm water, distant lighting flickering across the sky and the pleasure of trying to lure a Bass onto an enticing topwater spook.

Thrash! One of the fierce predators was lurking right near the bank and attacked the lure at the end of my retrieve. A good fight with a decent Widemouth, who lived to fight again another day. There were a few more close calls, with a small school of fish surging up and out of the water around the spook, but no strike. Still, even that was action, and action against the dramatic backdrop of the lake.




It's a new lake, like most in Texas, and before its creeks were dammed, an archeological survey was done on the soon to be flooded area and what became the lake shore. There were any number of Indian campsites and small settlements, some of them dating from the not so distant past. They'd be hard to recognize if you're not an expert; mostly charred stones from campfires and the occasional worked piece of stone. Some of the sites remain, if you have eyes to see.




I imagined those Indians as I fished, under the big, threatening sky. There they had been, hunting and fishing on Aquilla and Hackleberry creeks, in the vastness of the land. Well, the land's still vast and the sky's still the same, and before long it began to crash down with a vengeance.




Time to get back to the Compound, a glass of wine and the latest awful news from the Jihad. But before that, the sky turned ominously green and it started to rain in earnest, Texas-style. No fooling, and a good thing I had a truck because the streets were flooding as I drove into town.

If the rain continues, it will all be underwater. Is there a moral in this story?

If you care to draw it.

Your Buddy,

LSP

Sunday, June 5, 2016

Tight Lines



Sure, you can sit around in slack-jawed amazement at the state of the Worldwide Anglican Non Communion (WANC), or you can get out and fish. I chose the latter option and RV'd with GWB, somewhere in Texas.




The Bass were biting in a small way and before too long I had a couple on the hook and reeled in; so did GWB. Then the the action was on. A monster of the deep took GWB's lure; tap, hookset, and out played the drag. 


Nice Fish, GWB

Big fun and a big fish. Good result. That Bass tournament was won by GWB. But then the sun was setting, the wind died down and the water smoothed out into a golden glassy stillness. Time for topwater.




Twitch that Torpedo and in fairness, a Bass exploded on my lure like a senior womyn clergyperson angling for a pointed hat. It was a close run thing, but the fish got away. Then it was time to get on the road and head back to the Compound.

And that was that, a good time was had by all.

Your Friend,

LSP

Saturday, June 4, 2016

Torpedo Los!




Here's the thing about the Torpedo. It works. I don't know why, I'm not an expert, but perhaps it's the spitting noise of the propeller, combined with a slow twitch retrieve. 



Tiny Torpedo Topwater Lure

Maybe it's the color of the lure and the way it rolls in the water that triggers the aquatic predator to strike and strike hard. I don't know, perhaps it's all these things and more. But one thing is certain.


The Torpedo Works

The Torpedo works and works well. My Baby Bass variant has caught more fish in a month than I'd usually catch in a year. Granted, because of our enemy, the Weather, I've been fishing more and riding and shooting less.

Random Photo of  Jeffrey John

Still, the Torpedo is a lure to be reckoned with, and they're cheap. Get yours at the local Walmart and catch some fish. I doubt you'll be disappointed.

Tight lines,


LSP

Wednesday, May 18, 2016

It's Hard, Country Hard



Life may be easy if you're a hedge fund manager, lobbyist, or one of our privileged, deracinated, bi-coastal ruling elite. Everything's laid on; there it is, just watch the cash roll in off the gravy train. But that's not the way it is in the country, you have to get out there and make it happen. My philisophical pal, GWB, reminded me of this, sometime after Morning Prayer.

"Look, LSP, you can sit around all day in slack-jawed dismay at the Deep State of this country, or you can do something about it. Like fish." I took that to heart.


Reeled In.

Thirty minutes later I was on the water somewhere in Texas, making it happen, with worms, plastic and real, and a variety of spinners. The fish scorned that like the American public in the face of yet another Hillary lie. Contemptuous indifference was their hallmark and like I said, it's not easy in the country. Do you give up? No, you don't, you keep going at it.


Bass

With strawberry dough bait. And guess what? The fish thought it was the best thing. A Catfish went for the delicious red strawberry morsels like a commie on a five year plan. Then a Bass tore into it, fighting and leaping all the way to the bank. 


Catfish

Not the privately owned, create your money at interest for profit Federal Reserve Bank, no the bank of the lake. And it wasn't over, another cat hit the delicious strawberry bait and ended up at the shore. It was a mutated kind of yellow, which was interesting, if off-putting. 


Strawberry Dough Bait. Who Knew?

New rods vindicated, I drove through the waterlogged fields, praying that my 2x2 rig didn't get stuck in the mud. It's hard enough in the country without having to tow a fisherman out of the clay... But no worries, the truck made it to higher ground and out the gate, which I closed.

Fish On,

LSP

Tuesday, May 17, 2016

Get Back in The Fight



When the action goes against you, you can give up, defeated. Or you can reengage, get back in the fight and win. I chose the latter path, it wasn't easy.

After vicious setbacks, culminating in thieves stealing my rods right out of the bed of the rig this morning, I was tempted to pack the whole fishing thing in, at least for the week. But no, that would've been useless and defeated, so I rearmed.




Several Ugly Sticks and an Abu Gracia and a Mitchell reel later, there was Lake Aquilla, fish beckoning. I tried my luck by the ramp with worms, and sure enough they were biting, but no strikes. So change it up, put a red treble hook on the line and try some strawberry catfish bait. Yum, fish love that, although, to be honest, I've never caught anything with it.




First cast and... bam! Something hit the hook and ran with it. A Bass and a decent little fish at that, putting up plenty of fight and leaping out of the water like Bass are supposed to do. Great result. Reel it in.




Next up, a catfish took the line. It wasn't big but not shy of a fight either, and there it was, another fish. Then low ominous clouds scudded in from the Northeast, the wind picked up and the lake got choppy, so I called it a day.

Moral of the story? Don't give up, like a sad loser, get back in the fight and fish.

Fish On,

LSP