Keen-eyed readers of this popular international mind blog will know that Gar fishing is in the air like some kind of obsession. One of the best things out there, get on the Gar.
Which I did, fishing for Gar and Gar only. It started off well, with the Triassic beasts taking shad baited hooks and running around the spillway pool. Big excitement, well done, then they'd drop the bait in disgust, just as you're about to set the hook.
This went on for hours; moments of intense excitement followed by let down as the Gar swum off.
Some Guy With A Gar
I tried all kinds of presentations and half the time the dinosaurlike fish were receptive. They'd pounce on the bait, play with the bait, chew on the bait, snap their jaws on the bait and run with it, and then drop it after five or so minutes of surging around.
Neat to watch, less neat to see the shad dropped right at the moment you're about to close the deal. And that's just it, all I caught was an accidental Bluegill, no Gar.
The Bush War
So what went wrong? The bait was right, the hooks were right and the Gar were taking them. The failure, surely, lay in the hookset. Perhaps I waited too long, erring on the side of caution, afraid that the fish would drop their delicious shad if I moved too soon.
Well I didn't and they did anyway. Obviously a more aggressive approach is called for.
A Gar
Next time, allow the Gar to move into its second run and while its powering forward like a torpedo, lift the rod hard, driving the sharp hook into the Gar's teeth. Then you'll have a fish on and no mistake. It's doable, I know this from experience.
Saying that, why not rig up a tiny fly hook and tempt topwater? Therein, perhaps, lies madness.
I tell you, Gar, this isn't over. Not by a long shot.
Fish on or off,
LSP
