RAIN

You know what it's like. Walk out the door and you're in an oven, a preheating oven and there's no respite. Open the door to your rig and a blast of oven-hot air comes out and pounds you in the face. Relentless.

All in all it's like a furnace, so hot it seems the very air itself might ignite. That's probably why there's been a burn ban; wouldn't want any stray sparks catching the air on fire, would we.

And that's Texas in July, hot as Hell's Narthex, which was all too apparent in the parking lot of this asset-stripped rural haven's Walmart. 

There we were, the heat, the rig, the melting asphalt, Madonna singing Rain, it was hard to even move and then there it was. A cloud, a rain cloud.

It pulled in from the East and gathered momentum, thunderheads, and sure enough the heavens started to growl and rumble. Then lightning arced down like Satan falling from power and it began to rain.

Some of you, maybe all, will understand this. But whatever, take it as read that this Climate Change is a sure and certain gift from God.

Chill out,

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