Mix it up, Fool!

Everyone's bored of "the usual spot" and stories of Bluegill rising from the depths and into the fry pan, and I don't blame you. It's been samey. So, with an eye on adventure, I went to the other side of lake Whitney dam, to the spillway, to see what was up.

I'll tell you what was up, SeaWorld. A brief recce from the top of the riprap told me there were plenty of fish in the channel, and in the pool beneath the fishing pier. Big Gar, up to 4' long, maybe larger, sizable catfish, suspended in wait of prey, schools of young Sand Bass darting about and who knows what else. Just all kinds of fish, visible through the technology of a pair of polarized Ugly Stick sunglasses. Cheap, maybe $10 at Walmart.

Excited at the prospect of catching a monster, I cast off with a light rod, 12lb test, a treble hook and a worm, weightless (WWR). Natural presentation and no resistance rules, says fishing wisdom. Well, let's see about that, I thought, cynically.

Kaboom! No sooner had the worm begun to sink than something hit it like a Rhodesian Light Infantry flying column. Thrash! Drag out! Rod bent double, and remember, it's a light rod. Then up came a Gar; they're gentle giants, for all their ferocious prehistoric teeth, and this was a young one. Back you go, my friend.

Just for kicks, I moved down the pier and cast off by the wall of the dam. There were big Catfish lurking in the depths, you could see them, and who knows, maybe they'd be interested in the weightless worm rig.

After a few minutes waiting, what cost patience?, something most certainly was. The fish tore out into mid-pool and dived ferociously for the bank, then back again. A fighter. This went on for maybe 5 minutes, which seemed like the 10 seconds of forever, until the fish was finished. I reeled him in. A Catfish, not a monster, but not far off, either. 

An hour or two later, Striper, Black Drum, and more Catfish than I could be bothered to count struck the WWR and came in. Pretty much every cast a fish, and good ones, too. If I'd had a cooler, well, there'd be a big fish fry tonight.

As it is, a couple of fat Bluegill are about to hit the pan.

Fish On,

LSP

Holy Trinity Fishing

It's the Feast of the Holy Trinity today, so I decided to celebrate by fishing Lake Whitney's spillway after the second Mass. After clambering down the steep and treacherous rip rap, I set up on the shore of the fast moving Brazos and cast off with a striper lure. It seemed to be getting bites, very encouraging, and then it got snagged. Well done, striper lure, you caught a rock.

In the meanwhile, Gar, some of them large, were cruising the bank like submarines. Maybe the Gar will go for a crankbait shad, I thought decisively, and sure enough they did; before long it was ambushed by one of the prehistoric creatures. 

Great excitement! Get that fish! But don't rush, let the Gar take the bait and run with it, don't go for a premature hookset and lose it all, that's the method. But in this case, the ferocious looking monster, and it was, lifted the lure up out of the water, fixed me with its eye, shook the fakey little plastic shad about and then spat it out. You could almost hear the spit, I think I did hear it. Take that, LSP, spat the Gar.

Hunh. Back to the tackle box for another solution. Seeing as fishing is all about science, I relied on intuition and picked out a cheap silver spoon, the kind you buy at Walmart for $2.00. Throw that in the water and see what happens.

A small Hybrid Striper was what happened, who hit the spoon about 30 yards off the bank and fought all the way in. Fierce little fella. If it's not broken, don't fix it, says Fishing Wisdom, and I repeated the silver spoon trick, casting out to midstream, letting the current take it across the channel towards the bank and then reeling it in. The idea being to get opportunistic hits midstream and pick up fish waiting in ambush out of the current. Science.

7 or 8 Hybrids/Sandies and one baby Widemouth later I called it a day and clambered back up the treacherous rip rap to the rig. Don't fall off the rocks and break your neck, fool, I thought grimly to myself, rods in hand. Several carabiners, pitons and traverses later I was back at the truck, unscathed. Not only did I get some neat after Mass fishing in, but also a well-needed rock climbing refresher. Two birds, one stone, as it were. And here's the thing.

The fish weren't large but they were big fun, and that's what it's all about.

Fish On,

LSP