Fish On

 

Well there you are, Morning Prayer complete, so whaddya do? 1. Answer emails 2. Check Telegram for war updates 3. Sketch out a Sunday homily 4. Drink strong coffee as you pray for the Church and her Missions and 5. Go fishing.

It's not hard, just put a rod or two in the bed of the rig and drive onwards and outwards to the lake, which sits there basking in springlike climate change. You see, we're moving into cool Autumn where it's only in the '90s.

All well and good, stand fast against the WEF, and cast off with a shad lure and see what you get. Nothing. Huh. Switch out to #6 hooks and worms and get... five or six perch. Ferocious little fish and plenty of fun on a light rod. Sorry, BIS. Then, as it starts to rain, DAVOS, I'm looking at you, head for home and the Compound.

So that adventure was all good, mission accomplished. In other news, my Mother-in-Law may be in her final days if not hours, and a close friend's wife has died from cancer. She was a good woman and a Christian lady. Rest in peace and rise in glory, EN. Some of you may have worked with her, I was happy to have known her. She will be sorely missed.

With every good wish,

LSP

Look, A Fish Is A Fish

 

You've visited the sick in Whitney, so what next? Visit the lake and try your luck against the piscine adversary in triple digit climate change. No joke, it's like an oven out there. Unsurprisingly, you're the only man standing on Soldiers' Bluff as you cast off into the depths.

And pull out a ferocious little Perch. Slim pickings after that, the fish were sensibly standing offshore, not unlike US manufacturing itself, and weren't interested in worms and the like, *the like including a shad lure which produced exactly nothing, despite schools of shad in the water. Huh.

Then all of a sudden, Bite! Hookset! And out comes a juvenile Bass. A fierce little beast who went back in to fight again another day. And that was that, eyelids sweating, shins sweating, everything sweating, it was time to head for home and the safe haven that is the Compound.

Your Old Pal,

LSP

This And That

 

Get a haircut, fool

Well yesterday was fun, all about a standing rib, Yorkshire pudding, roast potatoes and carrots, delicious gravy and all of that. A young soldier and his Canadian pal approved of the feast. 

But today struck with a dead battery and headlight bulb in the kid's car and I tell you, removing a battery and replacing a bulb in an '04 Chevy Trailblazer isn't as easy as you'd think. Canadian friend likened it to "heart surgery." He had a point.

Big Baby

Then the kids went fishing and drove off to Austin to hang out with some Polish people and, I guess, hippies, it being Austin and all. I did not go to Austin but stayed at the Compound, where it's safe, and RV'd with some Mexicans at the church.

What good people, who set up the church's "sound system" for the new Spanish Mass this coming Sunday. I do not use a "sound system" because I kinda hate them in church, but for them it's important. So hey, carry on and el Senor sea con ustedes.

That aside, I find this... hypnotic, perhaps you will too:

Cheers,

LSP

Edinburgh Garrison RSM - For LL

 

Behold the power of the RSM, and well done those boys. LL, this short infovid's for you, respect. In other news, we had our diocesan convention this morning and it was incredibly, mercifully short. Upshot? They made me a Rural Dean. What does a Rural Dean even do?

I guess we'll find out. My guess is... fish, shoot, listen to Waylon, ride again, drive rigs, say Mass and get rural on a Dean tip. But seriously, if you'd said in the mid '90s and beyond that I'd be Priest-in-Charge of two country missions between Dallas and Waco, well, I'd have laughed.

How preposterous. Hey, the joke was on me, and I thank God for it. No kidding.

Your Pal,

LSP

Clean It Up

 

Some shooters have White Lightnings, others have Silver Pigeons and more besides, and I won't say they aren't awesome, because they are. But here at the Compound it's pretty much basic budget guns, and they're alright too, provided they work. Which they do, thank God, but here's the thing.

Unless you clean the gun, no matter how pricey it is, even if it's made by the finest gunsmiths by appointment to the Crowned Heads of Europe or Saudi Arabia or the Bush/Clinton crime family or the Great Xi himself, well they're not gonna work if they're not cared for.

So clean those guns even if they're "workhorses" and hardly about to grace a Beretta Gallery. Admonition in mind, I went to work, all the while checking the news to see what was up in the world. 

Disaster! Lo and behold, since the team went fishing and shooting, South Africa collapsed, Cuba took to the streets, the French rioted along with the Greeks and we have to ask, is the disorder spreading? Maybe we should shoot and fish less?

Smart people are cleaning guns.

Cheers,

LSP

Cooking With LSP - Fish on Friday

Cooking with LSP? That's a great idea. Look, enough of your sarcasm, here's how it's done. Get on a boat and catch some Striper, then watch in awe as your Guide fillets the fish in a fraction of the time it'd take you. Guide magic, but hey, it's his job. Next step?

Take the fillets back home and put 'em in the fridge, only to be taken out later in the day. Behold their piscine glory and as you do, pour an inch or two of oil into some heavy metal (dutch oven), put this on medium/high heat along with a candy thermometer. As the oil does its thing, wash the fish, salt and pepper it, and leave it on a cutting board while you prepare the batter. This is easy.

Put 1 cup of flour into  a mixing bowl, glass or plastic, your call. I use glass, not being Eastern European. Then add 1 teaspoon of baking powder, a pinch of salt, some cracked pepper and whisk it about. 

Job well done, pour in a bottle of beer or soda water and stir it up. The mixture should end up like thinnish pancake batter. But that's not all, put half a cup of flour in a bowl next to the batter, you'll use this to dredge the fish.

Done? Salute your endeavor with a glass of wine or something else, your call, no rule, but don't take too long, there's oil to be watched. So glance over at your heavy metal and check the oil's temperature. It should be between 365-70 degrees.

This is important. If the oil's too hot it'll ignite and destroy your kitchen like some kind of air bomb, you don't want that. If it's not, whatever's being fried will sit in the unpleasant oil and become a greasy mess. So, make sure it's hot, I recommend 370*, this will fry your fish without it becoming a grease nightmare.

This achieved, take a piece of fish,  dredge it in flour, coat it in batter and place it in the heavy metal. Watch it boil and fry as you add more fillets to the cauldron. You'll know when they're done, crispy, golden brown awesomeness. 

And just for kicks you can do the same thing for a side, I went down the onion ring route, you may choose differently, your choice.

Then fall upon your scoff, like a warrior,

LSP

FISH

 

Yes, the Rising Sun didn't look too bright but that's because it was rising over the waters of the lake as we went in search of Stripers.

Yes, a BOAT

Stripers are predatory, voracious beasts and they love live shad. And that's what we were armed with as we headed into the waters of the dammed Brazos, Lake Whitney.

Fish

OK, that's all very poetic in a very minor key kind of way, (really? Ed.) but how do you catch the fierce Stripers, what's the method? First off, have a Guide who knows what he's doing.

Looks boring, isn't

We chose Pat because he's good at every level. Friendly and helpful as opposed to sneering because you're not a Guide and, most importantly, gets you on the fish.

Good Guide

Which is what happened, we got on the fish and then some, limiting out in about 45 minutes. Big Striper action, rod goes double once, twice, hookset! Then reel that monster in. Big fun.

Look at that Leviathan on the left!

That done, we headed back to the ramp, mission accomplished. And now there's fish in the freezer for the next few weeks or so.  But seriously, if you want a good Striper Guide on Lake Whitney, go for Pat. He'll get you on the fish.

Fish on,

LSP

Fish? No. Boat? Yes

Thanks to some good friends I got on a boat today. It was awesome, we went out on the lake in search of fish, even though it was freezing.

Lures, slabs, spoons, you name it, all went in. No shortage of effort on our part. But were the fish biting? Good question.

No, they were not. Should've brought a box of worms. Still, big fun to zoom about on the lake which used to be the Brazos before it was dammed. And there's no harm whatsoever in getting outside instead of staring in weird consternation at the still unrolling coup attempt against our President.

So much for democratic process. But of course the Left has never been about this and it isn't now, they want power, total power by any means necessary. This, they think, will bring about a utopia in which the reign of The Man is at last brought to an end.

To be replaced by what, exactly? Images of Millionaire Socialist Nancy Pelosi (MSNP) getting a blow dry while ordering hair salons shut spring to mind. Hey, all pigs are created equal but some more Viking fridge equal than others.

Cheers,

LSP

Striper!

The sun loomed large and fiery in the rear view mirror and with it the promise of fish, the mighty Striper; and thanks to a friend's generosity we had a guide to put us there. Great result and a morning full of promise. Would it deliver?

It did, though it took a while, perhaps because the thunder, lightning and torrential rain of the night before had stunned the fish. After all, they're not used to Texas paying its weather tax.

Still, within a short blast across the lake we were getting results. Watch that rod go double and double again, as the ferocious predators tore into live shad. Big fun and a taste of things to come.

After an hour of scudding across the water from spot to spot, worth it for the ride alone, we ran into a school of Striper. There we were, waiting, when all of a sudden the bite switched on. 

Brisk action, as rod after rod twitched and was pulled down into the water; it was fish on and make no mistake, right on the stroke of 11 am.

We limited out shortly and headed back to the marina after a friendly chat with a game warden, who floated over to say hi. 

He has his hands full, dealing with lake riff-raff, clowns on speed boats and ne'er do wells up to aquatic skulduggery. Good guy. Then it was time to leave the lake, mission accomplished.

Big thanks to Pat and S.O. for a great day out on the water and a freezer full of Striper.

Fish on,

LSP

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

Behold The Great Leviathan

We went in search of Bass. Well not really, we went in search of any fish that'd get on the hook like a Trumptrain express on full loco or like anything at all, we're not fussy. And, to be sure, I wanted my kid to catch.

He did, pulling out Black Drum like a good 'un. We raced for a while, which was fun, but then lost count and finished, I think, pretty much even. I brought up the last fish, a mighty Leviathan Drum and I tell you, it put up a fight.

But here's a thought which makes me want to refigure the calculus. Another fisherman tipped up on the spillway pier and caught a good sized Catfish, a Gar and a decent Drum, all on a circle hook baited with live shad and weighted below the leader, a catfish rig. 

Now, we outfished him with barely weighted small hooks and worms but, and it's a big but, he caught fewer but larger fish, we just caught Drum. What does this mean?

Firstly, larger fish are going after live shad right now, so match the hatch. Secondly, larger fish will go after larger bait, it appeals to them. Translate all of the above into action and add a rod to the mix, baited for bigger fish, and cast off with the worm rigs for opportunistic fun.

That way you should catch more fish. A focused setup for the monsters and a catch-all for everything else.

Next stop? Go after Stripers, Drum are great but we need a change.

God bless you all,

LSP

Clear The Brush

It was a day much like any other day, the objective being to clear brush from the church. So I drove Sleeping Beauty and his pal, Funboy 2, to one of the missions after the usual exercise of Morning Prayer, walk the Shadow Wolf and all of that.

Work Harder!

The men of the mission were already hard at work, chainsaws in hand, and we stuck right in. Clear that brush! was the prime directive.

A Smoker

Then a political philosopher turned up with a smoker and the fun began as mesquite met heat and the delicious aroma of hot links and other delicacies spread over the work site. Next time it'll be Elk and Boar but Rome wasn't built in a day.

Typical Brush Pile

Several hours later the work was done and we'd gotten off light; imagine the settlers of the last century, clearing and working the land. Put yourself in Montana or Alberta during the winters of the 19th C or for that matter, Texas in the summer before air conditioning. 

They were tough, no doubt about it, and rainbow riding didn't loom large on their radar. Doubtless they had other things to think about.

Funboy 2

We will too, when everything comes crashing down under a mountain of irreparable debt and our money's exposed for the rotten fish head that it is. Good luck with that, all you who live in a city and just about anywhere else.

Eschaton

Speaking of which, smart people are building compounds and learning to ride, shoot, fish and hunt if they haven't already mastered these forward looking skills.

Yours truly,

LSP