Gone Fishing

 

So, what'd you do today, so-called LSP, if that's your real name, which we doubt. Well, nothing complicated, a morning visit to the Pick 'n Steal and then off to the lake and its dam to try my luck against the piscine adversary. Would they bite?

No, they did not. Don't get me wrong, I tried, I really did, but the fish weren't having it. There they were, predatory gar lying in ambush downstream of the spillway pool, you could see them loud and clear through cleverly polarized glasses.

But no, they weren't having it, frozen shad didn't cut it today, so I tried my luck at Soldiers Bluff on the other side of the dam. There were fish there, yes, you could see them, but would they bite? No, they would not.

In fact, it was like fishing into a wind tunnel and who can blame the fish for keeping their heads down beneath the surging waves. So I packed up light Ugly Stick rods and headed for home, thankful for a morning under the big clear sky and clean air of Texas.

Don't worry, fish, your day will come. Draw the moral as you care to take it and that, dear readers, is the story of that.

Never Surrender,

LSP

Catch Of The Day

 

What is this iridescent little fish, some sort of tropical mini bass? Whatever, I caught three of them this morning and ferocious little beasts they were too. And now that memory serves, you can find them swimming along the urban creeks of Dallas. I say urban, they're patches of untamed brush and worth exploring, typically in East Dallas.

Mystery fish aside, the rest were Bluegill and full of light rod, drag out fun. Here's the thing, even a medium sized perch seems like Leviathan on a light rod, and all the more sport for it.

So yes, the bite was on for an hour or so around Noon, and big fun. Then the famous Texan wind picked up, clouds rolled in from the North and it began to rain. I stood there, resolute, against the gathering storm, catching fish. Next time I'll keep some back.

Off topic, but have you noticed our rulers backing away from PCR tests? You know, the same tests which told us we were all going to die and mysteriously didn't? The tests which changed an election and made how many billions for Pharma's bought and paid shills in Congress and beyond. The tests, let the reader understand, which established the pandemic in the first place.

They're unreliable, not to be trusted, the CDC itself says so. That in mind, take your vax, you serf, and count yourself lucky you're not in a SuperMax.

Fish On,

LSP

Gone Fishing

 

A beautiful, balmy, spring day in Texas. So what to do? Go fishing, and that's exactly what happened. I drove off to Soldiers' Bluff on Lake Whitney and cast out into the depths. Would the piscine adversary bite?

Hard to tell, the climate's been strange lately, thanks to its Czar, Wooden Top, and this confuses the fish, so anything was possible. To be honest, I wasn't expecting much. But what am I saying? How much more do you want than an early afternoon under the free Texan sky?

As it was, I caught a drum and a couple of perch. Not bad, and all good action on a light rod. Then it was back to the Compound to recoup before jukebox action and tracking the Shiba on various charts. Stay tuned and regardless, a good day.

Fish on,

LSP

Texas is Very Awesome

How can Texas be awesome when the very air itself threatens to ignite, like an air bomb? Surely this sounds more like the anteroom of Hell than anywhere good. 

Not so fast, team. Yes, it may be hot but there are benefits, such as frontier style bluffs and Patriot Barges. No one's defunding the police here because they're not stupid.

And fish. Lots of fish, even in the heat of a late August afternoon. I know this because, after visiting with the flock, I headed over to the marina for some action, and got it. 

A lot of perch, mostly small but pretty much every cast a fish, always good, and few large, ferocious, piranha style keepers, which I didn't keep. Again, wasn't in the mood to clean, beer batter and fry 'em up. Foolish, I know, tomorrow being Friday, but whatever. Next time.

Then, at the very end, something ferocious took the line. Tug! Hookset! drag out, well at least for a bit, and up came a random predator bass. Great result. Bass on, what a lot of fun. And while some say fishing's a kind of therapy for trauma, conscious or otherwise, it's also good in itself. Fast, sometimes furious aquatic action. I find this exciting, like hunting but on the water.

Mission accomplished, I headed back to the safety of the Compound and it began to rain. Yes, rain. Beautiful, and yet another reason to thank God for his glory and Texas for awesomeness.

Your Friend,

LSP

Fish Till Your Arms Ache

Today was beautiful in this part of Texas, slightly misty but warm, like an autumnal Spring. Such is Fall in Hill County, season of mists and mellow respite from having to turn on the AC. Pleased by this happy turn in the War on Weather I drove to the dam in search of fish.

Idea being to replicate last week's success against the fluid adversary and get out in the clean air, rod in hand, which is exactly what happened. First cast, up came a baby bass, then perch, followed by baby striper, followed by decent sized drum, followed by young catfish.

OK, the fish weren't as big as the ones I would've caught with a boat, granted, but there were plenty of rod-benders, tug, pull, snap and here we go, battle on. What a lot of fun, to say nothing of the tranquility of the sound of the water coming gently off the dam in the rare moments of peace between strikes.

And on it went 'til I lost count and a fierce wind blew in from Waco, exciting the immature catfish but making it hard to cast. Throw out your line and watch it go horizontal in the gale, type of thing, so I packed up and headed for home.

On the way back over the bridge a vulture dive bombed the rig, like an avian Stuka or feathered Richtofen. No kidding, I thought the thing was going to hit the truck, first time that's ever happened.

In other news, you can read about the looming threat of war between Greece and Turkey here. And while you're at it, consider how good it would be to see Sultan Erdogan sink beneath the waves of the Med in Lepanto 2.0 and Hagia Sophia restored to its glory.

Fish till your arms ache,

LSP

Ferocious Fishing

The sun shone down on the mighty Brazos like the hand of God and we had the Lake Whitney dam spillway pretty much to ourselves. An auspicious start, fortified by a first light men's prayer breakfast with the cowboys at ORCC. Would starting the day right make for good fishing?

It sure did. We cast off into the pool with frozen shad and it was pretty much a strike with every cast. I say strike but don't be fooled, these were gar strikes and that's a different kind of thing altogether. Gar, ferocious prehistoric ambush predators that they are, are also weirdly shy.

They'll take the bait, hold it, sensing for threat, and then run with it. Sometimes they'll just take and run, but whatever the case, the temptation's strong to set the hook like you would for a bass or some kind of normal fish. 

As the Good Book says, resist that temptation. Seriously, because chances are if you try and set the hook too soon or even have too much resistance in the form of drag, the fierce but strangely scarified gar will drop your bait and swim off. And don't forget the added issue of a successful hookset in the gar's bony beak. Not easy.

That said, the Cadet sent out delicious if slimy shad into the water and played the game, letting the pleistocene monsters take the bait, meditate on it, run with it, stop for a solemn collect, run again and  then boom! Pull back and set that hook.

Rod double, big fish, leaping, monster, thrashing action. Then try and bring the beast in, which isn't easy because they'll bite through your line (use a steel/heavy duty leader) or pull your hook off into the depths in 4+' prehistoric fury.

The kid got three gar to my one, well done. However, I did manage to pull out a catfish, which evened things out a bit.

I tell you, what a lot of fun. Gar can be great gamefish, though they take a lot of patience and a bit of thought. And here's the thing, other people turned up with long-distance casting setups, they were fishing for striper, and mostly caught nothing. We caught far more and had way more action.

There's a moral here, if you care to draw it.

Tight lines,

LSP

Monster Bass Bonanza

Like a gift from heaven it began to rain, rippling the still surface of the small lake and out whirred lines across the water. Tranquil, but not for long.

His First Big Bass

The first Bass plowed into my hook like a sledgehammer coming down on a Clinton Blackberry. Kaboom, and before you could say Russian collusion the fight was on, and what a fight but finally, after about 5 minutes, up came a Bass, a monster Hybrid.

Monster

This went on for two days, morning, noon and evening, monster Bass after monster Bass until I lost count. Outrageous, unreal, ridiculous fishing, a make-your-arms-ache Bass bonanza of epic proportions. Pretty much a huge fish with every cast, and here's the thing.

Weirdly Large Hybrid

I had some luck with green plastic worms on Texas rigs, very little with topwater lures and no luck at all with crankbaits. These didn't produce; similar, when you think about it, to the Deep State's various attempts to overthrow the President. P**gate, Russian spy, Stormy the Prostitute and on, none of them worked, dammit.

Scientific Rig

No, but live worms on a #1 baitholder did, these enormous Bass couldn't get enough of them. They loved them like a millionaire socialist loves fauxtrage, and perhaps this confounds conventional wisdom, which advises big hooks and big bait for big fish. 

Whatever the case, the small hook, live worm rig fished up a storm of surging, diving, running, thrashing Bass. Just a whole lot of fun and there's a message in that.

Get out and fish,

LSP

Get On The Fish

Rather than reflect on the Church of England's devolution into mawkish irrelevancy masquerading as radical counterculturalism, I went fishing. 

It seemed better to get by the water after Mass and tangle with the ancient adversary than contemplate the Mullallyfication of the CofE.

Once again, the adventure started off with an empty pier, no pressure, and out went the lines with their tried and true #6 baitholder hooks and juicy worms, barely weighted with a split shot sinker resting around 12" from the hook.

Now, experts say the bigger the hook, the bigger the fish and I'm sure that's true but small hooks are notoriously capable of catching large fish as well as their smaller allies. You see, the smaller fish can't fit an enormous great hook in their mouth; they attempt it, greedily, then drop it in frustrated contempt.

Regardless, this hook logic works well if you're fishing indiscriminately from the bank and your emphasis is on catching fish, any fish. If you're singularly after trophy Bass or the awesome Striper or whatever, you tailor your rig to meet the need.

In my case, it's mostly just about catching fish and the above method worked well this evening, with no end of good sized Black Drum and a couple of fat Bluegills coming up for good measure. Pretty much every cast a fish, great result.

Fish on,

LSP