Check Your Privilege

There was a time when this simple mind blog was all about shooting and riding, fishing hardly ever got a look-in. That's because I hardly ever fished. Then everything changed.

Perhaps it was the cost, cheaper than bullets, perhaps it was making up for lost time or maybe it was the sheer, addictive, primal thrill of the drag playing out as some leviathan hits your line. And hey, they're all monsters when your setup's light.

Leviathan Hybrid

Today was no exception, 100* heat at a mystery lake in North Central Texas, and the temperature's no obstacle. Out goes the line, a perch rig, thank you very much. And sure enough, it caught a few Bluegill, some the size of dinner plates.

Monster

It also caught a monster mudcat, which fought like the force of nature it was. Massive fish on a light hookup, big fight. All of this to say nothing of a largemouth bass and its massive hybrid cousin.

Decent Little Largemouth

Great fun; good work, perch rig. And with yet another encounter with the piscine adversary it was time to head for home and the Compound.

Victory

Did I check my privilege? Oh yes, every step of the way.

Fish on,

LSP

Catch The Cat

Well done, kid!

That is a monster.

You have now officially passed the catfish test. On a light rod too, which adds to the glory.

Fish on,

LSP

The Face Of The Anglican Communion

Thanks to Climate Change, it was cool and springlike this morning, a mere 23* and then BOOM, there it was, the Anglican Communion, parked outside of a Pick 'n Steal in asset stripped rural Texas.

No Driver

No one was driving this car, the driver's seat was empty, but the vehicle had a passenger. You could see it, grinning.

Look, I'm not saying the Worldwide Anglican Non Communion is a driverless yellow car carting about a crew of clowns to the nearest Pick 'n Steal, that's your call.

Turtle

After taking photos of the Anglican Communion, I went fishing. It was a bit slow, 6 catfish (one BIG), 1 large Bluegill, a bait Perch that nearly caught a Gar and a turtle. 

Little Fella

All went back to fight again another day.

God bless,

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

Pier Pressure

The pier was deserted, no pressure. And yes, this is Texas, not Aberystwyth.

Right away the fish were biting, small catfish and perch. Pretty much every cast a catch.

I lost count as the sun set over the glassy waters of the lake.

Two older gentlemen turned up and I gave them a small perch for bait. They were going after catfish.

And pulled out a MONSTER.

Good work, team.

Fish on,

LSP

Happy Mother's Day!

Happy Mother's Day; I hope you've all had a fantastic time with family, friends and hopefully, your Mothers. Here at the Missions we celebrated in good form, with feasting after the Masses and a lot of fun it was too. Well done, team.

Then it was back to the Compound to regroup, get collected and look to the next evolution, which weirdly enough turned out to be fishing.

Useful

Things were a bit crowded at the top secret Texan location today, on account of all the Mother's Day fishing expeditions and perhaps the pier pressure scared the fish off. 

At any event, the going was slow for the first hour or so but I didn't care, it was good to see families having fun at the water.

Awesome

Picture the scene, Grandfather and Grandson, Father and Mother, all fishing away with Grandma sensibly sitting in the shade but smiling on.  

Heartwarming and I especially liked the Grandfather, who went by "Pappy." He came from a more civilized time and fished away with lures and jigs while I cast away with savage worms.

A Mother's Day Catfish

At one point the old gentleman pulled up a fishing rod, a fairly new one, too. I congratulated him on the catch and we laughed; a good moment. 

Fierce Little Predator

Then thump, tug, the fish switched on at last and with it a brisk hour or so of reeling in mostly small Bluegill. Hey, a fish is a fish and on a light rod these perch put up a fun fight. 

Country Life in Texas

I left as my new friends went after Bass with topwater lures and the sun was setting over the still, glassy waters of the lake.

What a good day.

God bless you, Mothers,

LSP

Outrageous Fishing

Unless you're a sad Marxist determinist or some kind of insane philosopher, you'll agree that we have free will, we can make choices. Some good, some bad, some tending towards freedom and others towards that other place which ends in iron tyranny.

No, Wymmin Can't Be Priests

With this in mind, we had a choice today at the Compound. Go fishing or sit in slack-jawed amazement at the wreckage of what used to be Western culture. The team took the better path, we went fishing.

Say No To Spirit Cooking

And BANG, pretty much out of the gate we were catching. Bluegill, Catfish and Bass; mostly Bluegill and a couple of keepers too, but they all went back. Some of you might want to know the detail. Here it is.

Defeat Globalist Elites

#1 Eagle Claw Bait holder hook, cheap as you like and then some. 1 medium split shot weight, placed appx 12" from the hook, 12' test (you never know). Bait, 1 half live worm threaded onto the hook with a chunk of Walmart shrimp (Cats seem to like the combo) and another half worm threaded below the shrimp chunk.

Smash The NWO

Presentation? Chuck it in! Well, test the water and see what works. I found that casting diagonally to a cross current tended to get good bites and... sometimes not at all.

Hey, a fish is a fish

Moral of the story? Get out and fish, and know the water. If you do, you'll be able to get on the fish with what they want and start catching. Which is the optimum result, but word to the wise, a few recce patrols don't hurt.

But of course you know all this. As it is, we lost count today. Result.

Gun rights,

LSP

Ye Gods, I've Caught The Carp!

Unlike Satan, I try to take a day off, on Mondays, and what better way to spend part of that than checking out a new place to fish. It's not hard, put some rods in the bed of the truck, buy some kolaches and strong covfeve and off you go.

I arrived at the top secret Texan objective around Noon, after an intensive bout of front office porch work with the flock all morning, and sized things up. It looked right, smelled right, sage and cedar, and felt right. But would it be right and produce a catch?

Sure enough it did. Right out of the gate fish were tugging and thumping against my complex, scientific lure, a worm on a #6 bait holder allied to a single split-shot weight. Nice and easy does it, and then pull, a fish was on the hook and up came the first of five catfish. Good result.

Remembering that movement is a sign of life, I changed position and gently twitched the almost free floating bait along the bottom, but not for long. Something like Jan Sobieski's Hussars plowed into the hook with the kinetic energy of an ironclad phalanx.

Was it a monster catfish, a Leviathan Bass or something else, perhaps a dolphin? Hard to tell, as the monster of the deep dived, pulled, thrashed and eventually came to the surface. A carp, a huge great carp. Back you go, my friend.

Another even fiercer carp blew up the line again, in just the same spot, and I reeled it in only lose the hook as I brought the beast to land. But so what, we'd battled and one came out the victor. Sorry, carp, you lose this round.

And that was that. Pretty much a fish with every cast and we didn't even have a boat.

Tight lines,

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