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

Fish Won This Round

 

Dallas is home to North America's largest urban forest, run through by the Trinity river. You can meet the stream close to downtown, from Oak Cliff. Go East on Davies, drive over I 35, go a little further and take a left at a machine shop next to Donato's Convenience.

The road soon degenerates into a potholed track, so count yourself lucky you've got a 4x4 truck, seriously, don't do this in a regular car in May or maybe any other rime. Ride over, disembark near the river and walk in under the DART and old Santa Fe trestle bridge.

This used to be a grand multimillion dollar experiment in turning the Trinity into a recreational fun park, complete with faux rapids, concrete walkways, signs telling you what to do and so on, Moore Park. Great plan, didn't go down so well. The faux rapids, which destroyed the banks of the river but provided great fishing, are gone. The signs scrawled over with gang graffiti and the paths overgrown, DART roars overhead.

But don't be dismayed, recce down to the muddy river and look East, into the primeval entrance to the forest. Scout the banks for likely looking spots and set up in shade to try your best against the piscine adversary. Worms, "crappie bites," topwater lures, no avail. And go figure, you don't know the water, still, fun trying.

Then, just beyond casting reach, behold schools of Gar thrash and leap in search of prey. I tried to get to them but failed, there was a mudflat in between, which I skidded across like a monkey. Well, next time. And there you have it, fishing the Trinity. This time the fish won, they won't be so lucky on the return match.

That aside, so good to get out in the country, even if it was in the middle of town.

Fish on,

LSP

Fishing Aquila Dam Spillway

A dirt road under an already fiercely hot Texan sky, and this is only mid May, a foretaste of the blast furnace to come. The heat and light bring an intensity, throwing everything into high relief. Not dissimilar, when you think of it, to one of those annoying filters on your cell phone camera, Satanbook or Instagram.

Well, this art blog's banned from Instagram and Satanbook, but not from the Aquila dam spillway and there it was, ready for action. I say action, I've never dialed this spot in to any great extent, but figured it'd make a change from Lake Whitney. So off I went in search of Catfish, Gar and anything else that came along in the midday heat.

Thanks to the pythonic wisdom of our latter day Delphi, Youtube, I came armed with frozen shad, worms, tiny baitholder hooks and small circle hooks. Idea being that you cast for catfish with the small circles, weightless and baited with worms, and send out shad fixed to a perch hook tied to a bobber for Gar.

Gar philosophy's interesting, at least to me, because they're an incredible game fish and well worth the sport - minutes, it seems like hours, of subterfuge, patience, false starts, new beginnings,  and then BAM, set the hook and off you go. A thrashing, jumping, prehistoric monster's on your line and it's game on. Tiny hooks seem one way to go, as they'll pass unnoticed by the fish who gleefully swallows your shad, allowing you to go for a hookset in the corner of Gar's mouth when it goes for its second run.

OK, fine, but before all of this excellence, the fish has to actually go for the bait. Normally this isn't an issue, Gar are notoriously ready biters, but not today at Aquila spillway. I had a few bites and a coupe of halfhearted runs, but the fish dropped the shad in boredom and disgust before I could even think of closing the deal. Huh. I put it it down to heavy fishing pressure, and maybe the rig needs rethinking.

A few bites on the worms though, with a small catfish coming ashore and a larger one who slipped the hook at the bank, annoyingly. Still, good fight. Should I have hooked the small cat with a big circle hook and used it as live bait for Leviathan Cats? Certainly thought about it, but the little fella went back to fight again another day.

So there you have it. A good day out in the sun and a fair amount of action, if little catching. Did the fish win this this round? Yes, they did, but watch out underwater adversaries, this isn't over, not by a long chalk.

Moral? Don't sit at home, staring blank-faced at a screen when you can get outdoors and fish. In other news, all the commies are mad because our President's taking hydroxy and zinc and isn't sick.

Fish on, or not,

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

Ferocious Fishing

The sun shone down on the mighty Brazos like the hand of God and we had the Lake Whitney dam spillway pretty much to ourselves. An auspicious start, fortified by a first light men's prayer breakfast with the cowboys at ORCC. Would starting the day right make for good fishing?

It sure did. We cast off into the pool with frozen shad and it was pretty much a strike with every cast. I say strike but don't be fooled, these were gar strikes and that's a different kind of thing altogether. Gar, ferocious prehistoric ambush predators that they are, are also weirdly shy.

They'll take the bait, hold it, sensing for threat, and then run with it. Sometimes they'll just take and run, but whatever the case, the temptation's strong to set the hook like you would for a bass or some kind of normal fish. 

As the Good Book says, resist that temptation. Seriously, because chances are if you try and set the hook too soon or even have too much resistance in the form of drag, the fierce but strangely scarified gar will drop your bait and swim off. And don't forget the added issue of a successful hookset in the gar's bony beak. Not easy.

That said, the Cadet sent out delicious if slimy shad into the water and played the game, letting the pleistocene monsters take the bait, meditate on it, run with it, stop for a solemn collect, run again and  then boom! Pull back and set that hook.

Rod double, big fish, leaping, monster, thrashing action. Then try and bring the beast in, which isn't easy because they'll bite through your line (use a steel/heavy duty leader) or pull your hook off into the depths in 4+' prehistoric fury.

The kid got three gar to my one, well done. However, I did manage to pull out a catfish, which evened things out a bit.

I tell you, what a lot of fun. Gar can be great gamefish, though they take a lot of patience and a bit of thought. And here's the thing, other people turned up with long-distance casting setups, they were fishing for striper, and mostly caught nothing. We caught far more and had way more action.

There's a moral here, if you care to draw it.

Tight lines,

LSP

Burn Ban Fishing

There's a burn ban in effect because even a spark, just one tiny spark might well be sufficient to set the air itself ablaze. No foolin', it's hot, like an oven.

With that in mind, it made sense to head off to the water where it's marginally cooler. And who knows, maybe even catch some fish if they weren't suffering from heatstroke.

Simon Weisenthal

I cast off into the furnace expecting nothing. Perhaps it's a character flaw; worst case the scenario and be happily surprised as opposed to hideously let down. Whatever, the line was out and there I was, waiting for fish.

"Nothin's biting, man," said the resident gap-toothed fish head, and he'd know. All he does, every day, is fish, right from the spot I was on. I looked him straight in eyes of his neon orange sunglasses and grinned. Out whirred the line.

Perch

Tug, thump, hookset! Out came a small fighting perch. Hey, nothing shabby when you're expecting exactly nothing. Then out came another and another; I started a game, how many Bluegill can you catch with the smallest fraction of worm. Lots, as it turned out.

Then, halfway through this childish exercise, KABOOM, something hit the hook like Simon Weisenthal on the trail of Mengele. Rod double, drag out, I thought I'd caught a cat. But no, after a few minutes of fight I saw a carp, a massive, monster, outrageous carp.

Ye Gods

We fought for ages, huge great fish on a light bass setup and make no mistake, the Leviathan Carp pulled every trick in the book. But, like Strozk's lies, it didn't work, the carp came in and was brought to account.

So what's the verdict? A heckuvva fish to catch, fight and land, no doubt about it, but bass offer more ferocity and so do gar. Carp don't leap, thrash and run with the same hectic frenzy; still, they fight like a force of nature, which in a sense they are.

Gar! Note Line...

Whatever the case, they all went back to fight again another day.

Fish on,

LSP

Yet More Crazy Fishing And A Hogg

You don't know what the water has in store, maybe something, maybe nothing but today it was all frenzied action and pretty much every cast a fish. 

Fish after fish hit my complex, scientific setup; split shot, worm on a #2 baitholder, and 12 Lb test on a cheap Shakespeare Lite-Pro Ugly Stick. And here's the thing.

A light setup's practical because it's sensitive, it's also fun because even a small fish feels like a decent fight and the fight's half the deal. There you are, like Ahab, reeling in the mighty, ahem, Perch. No kidding, on a light rod even a small sunfish feels important.

But today's fish weren't that small. A Gar rose from the depths, snatched the bait and leaped into the air in thrashing, predatorial fury. Time and again, Catfish pounded into the hook, diving deep and strong, rod bent double, drag playing out and fight-on.

That played out for an hour or so before quieting down and an alt-redneck pal came by. "I hear you been tearin' it up!" I replied that I had and promptly caught a Perch and a small Catfish, quod erat, sort of thing.

In other exciting news, the young 'un shot a pig. GOOD WORK, kid. 

Tight Lines,

LSP

Obsession

It's official, I'm obsessed with catching these ferocious fighters.

See you on the other side.

LSP

The Mighty Power Of Gar

It was a typical day in LSPland, searing heat, a couple of rods and a near empty pier below Lake Whitney dam; I like that, no pressure. And there were lots of fish, Black Drum, shoals of Carp, one or two Bass, the odd predatory Perch and squadrons of Gar.

Don't waste time, get down to business and cast off. That meant one rod rigged with Shad and a sinker, a catfish rig, with a view to getting at the large bottom feeders. Off it spun into the depths. Rod #2 was opportunistic, weighted with two split shots and baited with a worm, for casting.

#2 struck first. Tug, pull, strike. Up came a respectable Drum, full of fight, good result. Then things slowed down, with the occasional Drum and not much else.

I was on the point of calling it a day, 5 Drum and 2 Perch down, when rod #1 started to play out. A Gar was on, you could see it, with a silvery Shad stuck between its teeth. At this point you're tempted to pull up hard for quick hookset. Error. The Gar will drop your hook like a poster of Seth Rich at a DNC convention.

No, don't do that. Instead, let the Gar go with the bait, open your bale, lighten the drag, do not give the suspicious, wary Gar any reason to drop the bait and your hook; let him run. He'll do that and stop, let him run again and then, after about five minutes or so of letting the line and the fish out, tighten up and set the hook.

BOOM. The Gar will thrash, dive, run and leap, heading downstream like a furious torpedo. Play him out, you've got a fight on your hands, and bring him in.

That happened twice today and it made Bass fishing, which is awesome, seem tame. For sure, it demands patience, lots of it, but when you connect with these formidable fish it's a whole different ball game. Big fun, I tell you.

Some people eat Gar, I don't. My two leviathans went back to fight again another day.

Fish on,

LSP