Fish on Friday #2

Farsighted readers of this mind blog will know that it's customary at the compound to eat fish on Fridays, which means go out and catch some fish, then cook them. And that's what happened.

At first the spillway side of the dam was empty and I had that tranquil moment of casting off into the depths of the pool in search of fish. Then a kid turned up with an assortment of rods and started fishing for Gar in earnest. I admired his enthusiasm and wished him luck. He was using baby Shad as bait.

Downriver

Then two gentlemen tipped up and began working the pool. They seemed pretty serious, big nets, battle rods and the grizzled look of experience, which tokens fishing respect. They were using lures and cut bait, going after Striper.

So there it was, a skirmish line of fishermen  competing for the catch of the day. And here's the thing, the lures didn't work, the cut bait didn't work and neither did the Shad. But the Weightless Worm Rig (WWR) did, the fish liked it. Lots of them, to everyone else's washout.

Get The Kid on The Fish

After a while, the grizzled veterans upped stakes and headed off, leaving me and the Gar fisher; I turned him on to the WWR. Excited, he ran off and bought some worms and it wasn't long before he was pulling fish out of the water like a good 'un. I thought that was great and so did he, running around the pier with tremendous gusto. Go for it, kid. A happy moment.

Fillet That Fish, LSP

A crew of fishing technocrats from Vietnam (?) were next to arrive. Massive hyper-rods, long range casting floats, the whole array of fishing technology went into action against the submerged opposition. And... nothing. Meanwhile, the weightless worm riggers were reeling in the fun. There's a moral in that, somewhere.

Eat Your Scoff Like a Warrior

I gave our SE Asian friends the worm tip on the way out, they were grateful, and cooked up a fat Bluegill when I got back to the Compound. The rest of the fish are on ice.

Keep it simple,

LSP

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

Get Out And Fish

The international readership of this popular mind blog aren't slow when it comes to editorial advice. "Hey, LSP," they say, "Less God and more fishin'!" It's a very good thing, then, that I was able to swing by the lake today on the way back from visiting the sick.

I set up on the bank opposite my usual spot because I was looking for adventure and sure enough, there were plenty of fish cruising the submerged limestone bank. Hopes up, it was time to cast off with the tried and true weightless worm rig (WWR), but the fish were slow to bite, perhaps because it was pushing 100* in the shade. Still, a few took the bait and before long I'd tallied up a decent little catch of Bluegill.

But what I really wanted was a school of leaping, blitzing Bass to come into the shore, and the chance to get on them with topwater lures. Good action when you can get it and the backup rod was ready for just that, rigged for the surface with a Heddon Tiny Torpedo. True to form, the fish were jumping about 100 feet off the bank, would they get any closer?

Looking Over Yonder at the Usual Spot

The question was called by a couple of young Lakesters, "Y'all caught 'nyfish?" and I  told them I had. "You bet, Bluegill, but look at that, jumping Bass. Set up for topwater." Right at that moment the line bent low and something fierce took the worm and started to run, I love that feeling, fish on! And it was, another Bluegill, but a good one. I reeled him in. "Nice Perch," said my new fishing friend and walked down the bank with his pal to try their luck.

That didn't happen for them and before long they were doing backflips off the bluff and "singing" country rap. I scorn country rap and moved away in search of a better spot. A few casts later, something hit my worm like a miniature freight train, and lo and behold, out came a baby Bass. A ferocious little thing, and that's put me in mind to go after his larger cousins.

With apologies to the "Less God Brigade," I thank Him for the opportunity to get out to the glassy waters of the lake and the chance to fish under the big Texan sky. There's peace in that and excitement, too, when the fish are on.

Tight lines,

LSP

Cast Away

Yesterday was blast, today was cast, and that's what the sporting life is all about, mixing it up, by land, sea and air. Well, lake, in this case.

After a slow start I drove out of the compound to catch fish with GWB. I wanted to show off the fun and success of the Weightless Worm Rig (WWR), so we headed to Lake Whitney by way of buying a couple of boxes of nightcrawlers. These were "imported from Canada," curiously, and I've been told that people in Alberta make a living from this.

Many Limits

Next stop, the lake itself and the limestone banks of Soldier's Bluff. At one point in time, soldiers must have looked down on the Brazos river from the rocky bluffs and before them, Indians. Not that long ago in the scheme of things, but today it was just the team, threading worms onto hooks and dropping the tasty morsels down into the depths.

Across the cove from us a solitary gentleman was sitting on a bucket with a line in the water. Was he a #BlackLivesMatter supporter? No, I doubt it, he was probably after catfish instead of a Soros grant. I watched a few rigs pull up behind him and out poured an army of young people, who clambered their way onto the opposing bluffs. They were going cliff jumping, big fun, but we were after fish, and they were biting.

Well, Well, Well

It started off in a competitive spirit, "Ha! Number 2, we're even," but that soon went by the by as fish after fish ran with the WWRs. I lost count, but GWB estimates a "good cooler full." We certainly caught that, though these Bluegills were put back to fight again another day. And not only Bluegill, I caught a decent little Crappie who was trying his luck in Sunfish territory.

Then the worms were gone and it was time to quit while the going was good. I'd say there's relaxing, innocent enjoyment in bank fishing, though it would've been nice to have some kind of boat to get out to where the Bass were were jumping, about 40 or 50 yards out.

Kindly Old LSP

Fishing wisdom: Go where the fish are and give them what they think they want; you'll catch an abundance. There's a moral in that somewhere, if you care to draw it.

Tight lines,

LSP

Sun Fishing on Bushcraft Wednesday

Right, I know, it's Bushcraft Wednesday when everyone's supposed to be out in the bush with rare Scandanavian knives, tinder boxes, buckskin clothing and an encyclopedic knowledge of how to live off the bush itself. 

A Typical Bushcraft Scene

All of that, as opposed to trudging about some supermarket in homage to your Overlords in the Nanny State.  Sure, I respect that, but I didn't get out in the bush today, I went to the water instead.

A Fish

Lake Whitney, in fact, where I thought I'd try my chances against the fish and the objective was simple; get enough for a decent meal. To reach that objective I tried the old weightless worm rig (WWR) method, which is just as complex as it sounds.

Kindly Old LSP (Get a Haircut)

Tie a hook on your line, thread a worm around the hook, a real worm, not a plastic one, and throw it in the water without a weight. Then watch the WWR sink into the depths; it will, albeit slowly. If you're fortunate, sunfish will start hitting the WWR on its way down. Be ready for that and set the hook! If they ignore the juicy worm, twitch it about a bit and experiment with different depths. Fishing wisdom.

Monster of the Deep

Well, the old WWR methold certainly worked this afternoon and I lost count of the fish reeled in. To be sure, lots were small and had to be put back, but others were a decent size and worth keeping. 

Mission Accomplished

I ended up with five, which is plenty for me, and would've had six, but he jumped off the hook, flopped into a crack in the limestone and was eaten by a snake. There's a moral in that, somewhere.

I'll fry those fish up tomorrow, beer batter style.

Tight lines,

LSP