Fishing Isn't God But I Still Love It

"Man," reminds Archbishop Fulton Sheen, "is engaged in a threefold quest for life, truth and love." Would I find that after Evening Prayer, fishing? Only imperfectly. Fishing, you see, isn't God.

Still, I won't deny that the sport's up there, especially when the watery beasts are switched on, for real and love what you're throwing in the water, which is pretty much the way it was yesterday evening.

The pier was empty, no pressure, and the spillway pool beckoned with submarine life. You could see it gliding about the water in search of prey. Big Gar, Catfish, a few Bass and a lot of Drum, some large; time to cast off.

Out went line #1 into the middle of the pool and stayed there, a stationary rod, then out went line #2 for casting. And sure enough, the fish wern't only live but loving the bait, with both rods popping. And that meant a bit of running around. 

There you are, reeling in a fish when the other rod starts jumping, bends double and off you go. Quick, sort that fish out and get on the other rod!

Big fun, I tell you, and while it's not God it does  make for a better evening than staring in slack-jawed consternation at some computer screen.

So get out and fish. Shoot and ride too, but those would be different stories.

God bless,

LSP 

Get On The Fish

Rather than reflect on the Church of England's devolution into mawkish irrelevancy masquerading as radical counterculturalism, I went fishing. 

It seemed better to get by the water after Mass and tangle with the ancient adversary than contemplate the Mullallyfication of the CofE.

Once again, the adventure started off with an empty pier, no pressure, and out went the lines with their tried and true #6 baitholder hooks and juicy worms, barely weighted with a split shot sinker resting around 12" from the hook.

Now, experts say the bigger the hook, the bigger the fish and I'm sure that's true but small hooks are notoriously capable of catching large fish as well as their smaller allies. You see, the smaller fish can't fit an enormous great hook in their mouth; they attempt it, greedily, then drop it in frustrated contempt.

Regardless, this hook logic works well if you're fishing indiscriminately from the bank and your emphasis is on catching fish, any fish. If you're singularly after trophy Bass or the awesome Striper or whatever, you tailor your rig to meet the need.

In my case, it's mostly just about catching fish and the above method worked well this evening, with no end of good sized Black Drum and a couple of fat Bluegills coming up for good measure. Pretty much every cast a fish, great result.

Fish on,

LSP

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

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

Fishing Frenzy

It was like fishing for Hillary Clinton's lies, just throw a lure in the water and pull one out. Seriously, there were times this afternoon when I couldn't cast fast enough.

Lake Whitney dam was releasing water into the Brazos and the fishing pier was unexpectedly deserted, so I set up right at the side of the dam in the face of the churning current. That alone was exciting, watching the elemental force of the water, and then there were the fish.

Bass after Bass struck and struck hard at a small silver spoon. They were chasing shad and I fished with the current, which took the spoon and the baitfish to where the predators were waiting in ambush. The idea being to get your lure to where the fish were feeding.

That was the theory and it worked, though to be honest it was hard to miss, fishing science regardless. Anyway, I stopped counting after some 20 Hybrids/Sand Bass were reeled in, which is a lot of fish for me. But that wasn't all.

Black Drum?

Somewhere in midstream I got a fierce bite, it felt like something more than the ubiquitous Hybrids and sure enough it was. After about 5 minutes of aggressive to and fro, don't lose that fish LSP!, up came a very respectable Striper. A big fish, and then, right at the point of taking a trophy picture, I dropped the ferocious creature and off it swam into the surging depths.

A couple of Black Drum(?) came in too. Large fish with plenty of go and neat to catch on a light rod. Perhaps I should have kept them to eat, but they lived to fight again another day. And that, readers, was that.

There She Lies

As I write this deep-thinking philisophical fishing post, the fish are still there, and so are Hillary's lies. Rest assured that the fight isn't over.

Tight lines,

LSP

Don't Be An Idiot, Go Out And Fish

Don't be an idiot, I thought to myself, go out and catch some fish. So that's what happened, but it took a while.

Scientific Method

I casted, using the scientific method: chuck everything in the water and see if something works. Did the method work? Good question.

Ugly Stick

Not at first.

There is That Leviathan!

Then it lifted off and I was reeling in the mighty Leviathans.

Hey, it's a Fish

Monsters of the deep.

Message to market? Don't be an idiot, get out and fish, you never know, you might even catch something.

Fish on,

LSP