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

Jade Helm

Multiple operators loaded up rods and rations into GWB's rig and headed off to a clandestine staging area, somewhere in Texas. Our mission? To catch Bass.

Arriving on target, intel reports proved true, the opposition had several things in their favor: snagging lake weed, searing heat, vicious fire ants and mud. Some would have given up and gone back to the creature comforts of base, we did not.

GWB advanced swiftly to contact, making bold casts to the center, left and then right flanks of the position. Four Bass down, I followed through to the center with a dark worm and reeled in Old Leviathan.

By then the sun was beginning to set over the lake and we hoped for a magic hour of jumping, fighting and biting Bass. This never came, but it was beautiful to be out at the lake.

Mission accomplished, we headed West, or was it East, back to HQ.

Fish on,

LSP