Friday, February 6, 2009

Catfish. The Other White Meat.

I'll be the first to admit that my fishing skills... well, they suck. Clif will be the first to agree. Sure, I can cast a fly 50-60 feet with a good back wind. But ask me to CATCH a fish, and you'll be waiting a long time for results. Most, okay, maybe all of the fish I actually hook are by matter of luck. That is until Clif and I took the long walk at Powerton last weekend. While I was tinkering around with X-Rap shads, craw fish cranks, Rapela minnows, and a jitterbug (you read that right) Clif was shoring seven catfish within a half hour. They weren't the lunkers he hunts, but fish just the same. I had to get me some a' that action. So he set me up with "stink-bait-on-a-stick" and on my second cast I was hooked. Netted in a nice little specimen. Wow! that was easy. I didn't want to interfere with his claimed spot on the rocks so I returned the rig to his backpack and started throwin' another minnow. We eventually turned to the fly rods with no success. Just a few lost flies in the rocks.

So, this week I started pondering. It's time to broaden my horizons. I believe I'll mosey on down to the local bait shop and pick me up some stink.

I love catfish!

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