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

Don't Go Blind

Get up before first light, scan the perimeter and head down the road to the Cowboy Church's men's prayer breakfast; good bunch of guys. Then visit the sick and drive back to the Compound to take care of business. A pretty regular Friday morning, and then I got the call.

"Hey, LSP, I've got oars."

"Oars?" I replied, sharp as a tack. 

"Yes, oars. To activate that boat. See you at the lease in an hour."

"Right on."

Look. Oars and a YETI. #TrumpsAmerica

Before too long I was staring at the old V Hull on the banks of the Big Pond, while GWB wrestled with oars. The idea being to get the thing in working order to serve as a short order duck craft and fishing boat. Get out there, round up those decoys and ducks and catch those monster bass, type of deal.

A Duck Hunter

Sure enough, the oars worked and worked well, though I dismally failed to catch anything. Still, it was neat to navigate the pond and check out potential places to shoot from the water.

Blind as a Bat 

Blue Champion had a good time too, rolling about in the field, challenging aggressive cows and generally carrying on like a dog. It was good for him to get out and though he's pretty blind these days it doesn't seem to faze him. He's well capable of running on nose and ears.

A Typical Blind

Recce patrol over, it was time to return to the Compound, "See you tomorrow at 0600," said GWB, who's an avid duck hunter. Well, I woke up at 0500 to the sound of pounding rain and promptly fell back to sleep.

Next time.

LSP