Pompus named Wompus

Haven’t fished or tied much in the past week or so, but Brent and I did spend a Saturday raiding the snot slick Striper hole up on the Red. Our obsession with 3 a.m. allows us time to take our dunks in the darkness, and enjoy the late riser’s flailings in the break of dawn.

The fishing was “hott-ish,” despite a Dude-bra’s cursing of all the dinks. I’d elaborate on our interactions with Bra, but his mom would be sad to hear the number of times he almost got his teeth knocked out.

I fished half the morning with the switch rod. It’s insane. I was able to huck my size 6 “Rugrat’s Special” into the shad slick at the tail end of the pool, turn around, and with an effortless roll cast present my fly to a rogue Striper cruising 15 feet from my rock perch.

35-foot spey line hook sets were hell on the shoulder after a while, and the running line did a number on my index finger, but it was totally worth it. Still, I’m looking forward to rigging it proper with a gnarly dropper set-up.

Sorry, no pictures of the trip, but you can expect some top notch SB mangalrey in the coming days. I’ve got an Arkansas scud, foam hoppers, a thunder creek streamer, and a little Carp candy sitting on the desk.