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

Basschaton

There we were , somewhere in Texas, fishing for Bass, and they weren't biting, until they did. Clamp! Vise-like jaws snapped shut on an alluring dark plastic worm and in came a fish, an apocalyptic leviathan of a Bass.

GWB soon caught up with some swift action, and after an hour at the lake we were neck and neck at 3 fish each. By then the sun was setting, the lake was still as glass and it just seemed right to try out the Tiny Torpedo topwater method.

A small strike, almost more of a gulp, later and kaboom! A big fish was on, leaping and fighting, playing out the drag as it stormed and thrashed out of the water. Excitement wasn't in it, this was a serious fish.

As if on cue, lightning flashed through the thunderheads, right there, at the Basschaton.

Tight Lines,

LSP