Bluegill Fun

 

If yesterday, "Juneteenth," was all about celebrating famous Scots regiments, today's been about fishing. You see, the last two expeditions to Soldiers Bluff on Lake Whitney were busts, Fish 2, LSP 0 and that dismal record couldn't be allowed to stand. So, after Morning Prayer I geared up, climbed in the rig and headed south west for a counter offensive against the piscine adversary. 

Good thing too, the fish were jumping, predator bass after schools of shad and minnows. Seriously, no end of bait fish and the occasional bass strike thrashing up the water, so I cast off with a topwater torpedo. Big expectation, slow, twitchy retrieve and... nothing. Useless.

Try a worm, and guess what, almost instant tugs and ferocious little bites. Yes, bluegill were back in town and up they came, small at first, then larger. I tell you, those fierce and sometimes not so little beasts put up a fight. Tasty, too, but they all went back.

Then bass started blitzing for shad about 200 yards off, out of my casting range, but would they come in to shore? Almost, they got around 70 yards in and out went a topwater lure, which they hit with thrashing ferocity. I let it sit under assault and waited for an attack fish to take it down into the depths but that didn't happen. 

After a clamorous strike they bounced off and disappeared in search of other prey. The lure, with hindsight, was perhaps a little too large. Still, great action and a near miss or two made up for by brisk bluegill engagement. Fierce fish, light rod, big fun.

Bluegill in mind, I'll keep a few next time and fry 'em up, beer batter style, delicious.

Fish On,

LSP

Get Out And Fish

 

It's not much fun getting up in the dark at a ridiculously early hour but you know it's worth it as you power across the lake in Pat's skiff, followed by a fiery Texan sunrise.

We were looking for striper and sure enough, Pat knows where to find them. He's just a great guide, friendly, helpful and most importantly he gets you on the fish, usually with live shad. But today it was all about 6" Cotton Cordell pencil poppers and big silver spoons.

Old LSP with a fish

First off, topwater poppers and brisk action as the ferocious predators exploded onto our lures like Red Guards on a gang of recidivist Mensheviks. Or something like that. But look, and I know you're all experts, in the adrenaline rush excitement of the strike, do not try a premature hookset. 

Don't do it, no, let the fish take the lure down into the depths and if he doesn't, leave it be, chances are the enraged bass will come back again and again in its misguided fury. And you'll get your fish.

A few big fellas

Next up, silver spoons, which are a workout. Drop the spoon into the water, let it hit bottom, then "whippit up, and let it flutter down. They'll tear into that thing." And so they did, but not so much for me. Still, I wasn't complaining, the topwater had been outstanding.

Then back to the boat ramp, where Pat cleaned the fish in a fraction of the time I could've done and that was that, back to the Compound where fish awaits. My plan is this. Salt and pepper a fillet or two, pan fry in olive oil on medium high heat, serve with some kind of vegetable or two and fall on that scoff like a warrior.

What a good morning! Thanks, S.O. for the fun, and Pat for being a great guide.

Fish On,

LSP

Fish On

 

The sky was beginning to lighten as I got to the marina, in search of piscine adventure. "G'morning, gentlemen," and then we were motoring out into the lake as the sun began to rise.

Beautiful, and a moment of anticipation, would we catch any fish? It's not a given and there, right from the get go, lies a moral; just because you're on a boat doesn't mean you'll catch anything.

Belay that lure...

That in mind, we'd rigged up for topwater because intel said young, ferocious striper were blitzing surface shad. And sure enough, there against the bluffs was line of spray, a frenzy of fish exploding out of the water.

Young but Fierce

Power over and look at that water boil! But not for long, there's no time to waste. Line out, zig-zag retrieve then bam, down goes your lure and it's game on, a fighting striper on a light rod bent double. Big fun and fast action, which went on as we tracked the fish across the lake. I lost count.

What great fishing! OK, the stripers weren't fully grown, only around 16-18" but still,  full of aggression and predatory fury; they went back to fight again another day. It'll be a different story in the Spring when they've reached leviathan status.

Mission accomplished, we headed back to the marina, well satisfied with a morning out on the water. And here's the thing. Just because you're on a boat may not mean you'll catch any fish, but it can help. Thanks, J, for the trip.

Tight lines,

LSP

Go To The Lake

It seemed right to go fishing today so I drove to the lake, which is high because of torrential rain. First stop, the dam spillway and there was the mighty Brazos, in full flood.

A couple of guys were trying their luck but not catching anything and I took in the sight for a reflective moment or two before heading to the other side of the dam.

It was deserted and no wonder, there was hardly any accessible shoreline to cast off from but I clambered down the rip rap and sent a torpedo out onto the glassy water. Fish were jumping, mostly just out of range and all made sure to avoid enticing topwater lures.

Still, it was good to get out in the open Texan air and watch the tranquil water of the lake, to say nothing of the tantalizing excitement of topwater fishing. 

Would the monster Bass you knew were lurking in the murky depths explode on the lure with piscine fury? You know they're there and you know they'll go for that lure like a Trump Train on full steam, you've seen it before. It could happen at any moment.

But it didn't, so I headed back to the Compound where I discovered CPL's got himself into a nasty little pit of $4.5 million, and all the rest. Don't say MillSoc hubris.

Did you watch Trump in Houston? It was huge. Unprecedented?

MAGA,

LSP

Lighten Up LSP!

Hey, lighten up LSP, said one of the very few people who bother to read this inconsequential kebob stand on the information super highway. I took their advice and went fishing.

Would they bite? Good question. With that in mind I challenged the piscine adversary with topwater lures. Cast, wait, twitch, retrieve. If you're good at it you'll break into the predatory rhythm of the Bass  and catch bucket loads, but I'm impatient.

Still, one voracious Bass couldn't resist the clicking, rattling, twitching, shining lure and surged onto the enemy like a Russian submarine going down the Potomac. BOOM! Great result.

A few more strikes and clouds started rolling in because, despite the best efforts of the Anglican Communion, the climate had changed and it started to rain. 

Random Helpful Infographic

It was time for Mass too, and that's exactly what happened.

Mind how you go,

LSP

Sorry Commies, You Lose

Yesterday was Labor Day and the fish were staging a "go-slow" in solidarity with their Marxist comrades, the Dove. But one battle lost doesn't mean a war over, far from it.

Today we turned the tables on aquatic bolshevism, luring the scaly soviets out of their revolutionary committees with live worms, spinners and topwater lures.

That's right, a Heddon Tiny Torpedo which the voracious little bass couldn't resist. It'd been a while since I used one and they demand a bit of patience, the temptation being to try and set the hook as soon as the fish strikes. Big mistake, you'll snatch the lure out of the piscine communist's mouth.

Instead, let the aggressive revolutionary surge onto the lure, take it down into the proletarian depths, apply pressure and then reel the little commie in. Easy to say, hard to do because it goes against the quick and sudden hookset mentality that goes with a subsurface strike.

Still, I got in the way of it, casting off, letting the lure rest and then twitching it in to various rhythms. Speaking of which, fishing wisdom recommends you do your best to keep the lure as stationary as possible as you twitch it about. This apparently enrages the predatory nihilist bass who then launch themselves at their bourgeois oppressor.

Well it takes a lot of patience, so I emulated the method while changing it up with more aggressive retrieves and caught a lot of fish. They weren't huge but a fish is a fish and even a small bass striking topwater's a lot of fun. Great result.

Market-driven capitalism restored and the Red Menace put back in its box, I blessed a herd of horses and a barn. Then headed back to the Compound.

God bless,

LSP

Happy Mother's Day!

Happy Mother's Day; I hope you've all had a fantastic time with family, friends and hopefully, your Mothers. Here at the Missions we celebrated in good form, with feasting after the Masses and a lot of fun it was too. Well done, team.

Then it was back to the Compound to regroup, get collected and look to the next evolution, which weirdly enough turned out to be fishing.

Useful

Things were a bit crowded at the top secret Texan location today, on account of all the Mother's Day fishing expeditions and perhaps the pier pressure scared the fish off. 

At any event, the going was slow for the first hour or so but I didn't care, it was good to see families having fun at the water.

Awesome

Picture the scene, Grandfather and Grandson, Father and Mother, all fishing away with Grandma sensibly sitting in the shade but smiling on.  

Heartwarming and I especially liked the Grandfather, who went by "Pappy." He came from a more civilized time and fished away with lures and jigs while I cast away with savage worms.

A Mother's Day Catfish

At one point the old gentleman pulled up a fishing rod, a fairly new one, too. I congratulated him on the catch and we laughed; a good moment. 

Fierce Little Predator

Then thump, tug, the fish switched on at last and with it a brisk hour or so of reeling in mostly small Bluegill. Hey, a fish is a fish and on a light rod these perch put up a fun fight. 

Country Life in Texas

I left as my new friends went after Bass with topwater lures and the sun was setting over the still, glassy waters of the lake.

What a good day.

God bless you, Mothers,

LSP

Exploring McCommas Bluff

Not many people know that Dallas is home to America's largest urban hardwood forest, some 6000 acres of thick woodland and brush on either side of the meandering Trinity river. There's a number of access points in South East Dallas and we chose McCommas Bluff, clambering down the limestone, rods in hand.

There, on the banks of the Trinity, it's almost as though the city didn't exist and time had stood still since the area was first mapped. It hasn't, of course, and you have to ignore the occasional bit of trash left behind by poachers, fishermen and badly behaved canoe artists. That aside, it's pretty unspoiled and you get the sense of the mighty, mysterious forest weighing in on you from the opposite bank.

We cast off into midstream, hoping to lure some prehistorically large fish that were surging out of the water in search of dragonflies and wasps. But the fish weren't having it, best efforts of Tiny Torpedoes notwithstanding, so the team headed for home before everyone melted in the triple digit chill.

I'd say there's good fishing to be had at McCommas if you get there at the right time with the right bait. Word to the wise, if you're fixing to explore the bluffs, consider taking a gun. No fooling.

In other news, a crazed Muslim went machete Jihad in Belgium, shouting Alahu Akbar as he hacked at a policewomen. Authorities are desperately searching for a motive because it obviously didn't have anything to do with Islam.

God bless,

LSP

Tight Lines

Sure, you can sit around in slack-jawed amazement at the state of the Worldwide Anglican Non Communion (WANC), or you can get out and fish. I chose the latter option and RV'd with GWB, somewhere in Texas.

The Bass were biting in a small way and before too long I had a couple on the hook and reeled in; so did GWB. Then the the action was on. A monster of the deep took GWB's lure; tap, hookset, and out played the drag. 

Nice Fish, GWB

Big fun and a big fish. Good result. That Bass tournament was won by GWB. But then the sun was setting, the wind died down and the water smoothed out into a golden glassy stillness. Time for topwater.

Twitch that Torpedo and in fairness, a Bass exploded on my lure like a senior womyn clergyperson angling for a pointed hat. It was a close run thing, but the fish got away. Then it was time to get on the road and head back to the Compound.

And that was that, a good time was had by all.

Your Friend,

LSP

Basschaton

There we were , somewhere in Texas, fishing for Bass, and they weren't biting, until they did. Clamp! Vise-like jaws snapped shut on an alluring dark plastic worm and in came a fish, an apocalyptic leviathan of a Bass.

GWB soon caught up with some swift action, and after an hour at the lake we were neck and neck at 3 fish each. By then the sun was setting, the lake was still as glass and it just seemed right to try out the Tiny Torpedo topwater method.

A small strike, almost more of a gulp, later and kaboom! A big fish was on, leaping and fighting, playing out the drag as it stormed and thrashed out of the water. Excitement wasn't in it, this was a serious fish.

As if on cue, lightning flashed through the thunderheads, right there, at the Basschaton.

Tight Lines,

LSP