Soldier Gets A Ride

 

Here's the deal. Back in the day I told the Private that he could have my rig when he passed Basic and AIT. I, like a champion, would go out boldly and get a new one, a better one, and he could have the old beast. But things went sideways, the plan went awry.

The new Specialist returns from Korea and truck$ were stupidly expensive, "Son, because MillSoc incompetence and wrecking you must wait." Then truck$$ get even more ridiculously pricey, thanks, Xiden, and the kid has to wait some more, until yesterday.

A White Car

Cash in hand we marched into Barron's used car lot. "We want to buy a car, yes, cash on the nail." And that's exactly what happened. One 2015, 100k on the clock Kia later and the soldier drives off with his first vehicle. Nice and easy.

Park Up

Great result, and so much better than options on hand in Killeen, where they apparently gouge the troops; he was fixing to buy a '12 Merc for 13k but had a moment of clarity... thank God. 

Random DLC Spoon

So there you have it. Now the soldier's got a ride at a reasonable price and can nav the Fort on his own as opposed to scrounging lifts from somebody else. The plan evolves.

Parentally,

LSP

Fishing Frenzy

It was like fishing for Hillary Clinton's lies, just throw a lure in the water and pull one out. Seriously, there were times this afternoon when I couldn't cast fast enough.

Lake Whitney dam was releasing water into the Brazos and the fishing pier was unexpectedly deserted, so I set up right at the side of the dam in the face of the churning current. That alone was exciting, watching the elemental force of the water, and then there were the fish.

Bass after Bass struck and struck hard at a small silver spoon. They were chasing shad and I fished with the current, which took the spoon and the baitfish to where the predators were waiting in ambush. The idea being to get your lure to where the fish were feeding.

That was the theory and it worked, though to be honest it was hard to miss, fishing science regardless. Anyway, I stopped counting after some 20 Hybrids/Sand Bass were reeled in, which is a lot of fish for me. But that wasn't all.

Black Drum?

Somewhere in midstream I got a fierce bite, it felt like something more than the ubiquitous Hybrids and sure enough it was. After about 5 minutes of aggressive to and fro, don't lose that fish LSP!, up came a very respectable Striper. A big fish, and then, right at the point of taking a trophy picture, I dropped the ferocious creature and off it swam into the surging depths.

A couple of Black Drum(?) came in too. Large fish with plenty of go and neat to catch on a light rod. Perhaps I should have kept them to eat, but they lived to fight again another day. And that, readers, was that.

There She Lies

As I write this deep-thinking philisophical fishing post, the fish are still there, and so are Hillary's lies. Rest assured that the fight isn't over.

Tight lines,

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