Ripped Off

Yesterday's fishing was hijacked by locksmithery and I thought I'd make up for that this morning. First things first, put a couple of rods in the bed of the rig and stop by Walmart to pick up a lure and some worms. 

Simple, and so it was until I returned to the truck from the store, looked in the bed and lo and behold, no rods. Some goon had ripped them off, so I drove 'round the car park looking for rod thieves but they were long gone.

Some Thieves Ripping Off a Crop

Maybe it was some crew of freaks, chancing it on their way back to Austin, trying their luck down the I35 corridor. I don't know, it's possible, but one thing is certain.

It takes a special kind of wickedness to steal someone's fishing rods.

LSP

Thanks a Lot, "Rig."

It being the Feast of St. George, I rose with the sun, got everything squared away, said Morning Prayer, walked the dog and put some rods in the back of the rig; the plan being to go fishing. Good plan, eh? Simple, clear, realistic, doable. But you know what they say, as soon as you make contact the plan goes all to hell. That's what happened to me.

Everything was fine until I got to Whitney and picked up some bait. Then, as I pulled away from the bait shop filling station, the dash pinged me with a check radiator warning and the gauge went into the red like a voracious Bass on a juicy worm.

The Plan

Sure enough, the radiator was leaking coolant like a good 'un and the reservoir was empty. I filled it up and drove home, hoping that, as if by magic, the leak would stop when I got back to the compound. It hadn't, and I resisted the temptation to get a quick fix with Stop Leak and folk remedies like black pepper, eggs etc.

St. George Makes Contact. Note: Princess, Humpback Hill, Your 9 O' Clock.

It can go to the shop on Monday, and in the meanwhile I console myself with the thought that the fish will still be there when we get back in the fight.

All for Texas and St. George,

LSP

Jade Helm

Multiple operators loaded up rods and rations into GWB's rig and headed off to a clandestine staging area, somewhere in Texas. Our mission? To catch Bass.

Arriving on target, intel reports proved true, the opposition had several things in their favor: snagging lake weed, searing heat, vicious fire ants and mud. Some would have given up and gone back to the creature comforts of base, we did not.

GWB advanced swiftly to contact, making bold casts to the center, left and then right flanks of the position. Four Bass down, I followed through to the center with a dark worm and reeled in Old Leviathan.

By then the sun was beginning to set over the lake and we hoped for a magic hour of jumping, fighting and biting Bass. This never came, but it was beautiful to be out at the lake.

Mission accomplished, we headed West, or was it East, back to HQ.

Fish on,

LSP

Sunset Over Lake Aquilla

One of the many benefits of rural ministry is that you get to go to the nearest lake after Evening Prayer for some rod and reel enjoyment. I deployed plastics on a Texas rig, to lure the Texan fish.

It was tranquil watching the sun go down over the water, and the sunset was beautiful.

I love shooting, riding and, of course, fishing.

God bless,

LSP