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Stripers on Lake Texoma

By Robin Rhyme, McKinney, TX

Went striper fishing last week. Went out on Texoma with Scott Bridgess who had me fishing a nine weight rod loaded with LC-13 and Amnesia running line. Man, that stuff garbles up into goopy loops - fast! I had a stripping bucket on the deck beside me but most of the time I was missing it. So I had Amnesia all over the deck and was stepping on it quite a bit. Nothing quite like winding up and hurling a few hundred grains of lead line only to have it come to an ungraceful stop due to my big old foot.
Robin Rhyme

But I have to tell you, casting that LC-13 was quite a spiritual experience. I have spent so much time working on grace, delicacy and presentation in my casting only to wind up in the middle of Texoma winding up and hurling like a baseball pitcher. More truthfully it's combo of pitcher and batter all at once. Roll cast that lead line to the top, grab the back loop on the shooting head, toss it behind me, let a little line shoot to get the back loop outside the tiptop and then...KeeeeYahhhhh!!!!..... fire it out there.
Highport Marina

There is a sort of grace I suppose, not unlike the grace of the hammer toss. The other exciting part is where is that 1/0 Clouser with lead eyes and SHARP hook point going to track to? All the more motivation to cast well. There were a few memorable occasions where that Clouser passed right by my head like an annoying kid in a Civic with a fat tailpipe. Guaranteed to make you consider good casts.
Scott Bridges

I grew to love casting that stuff. Stripers hooked themselves up smashing that Clouser. What a fight! And not minuscule fish either. One high point was hooking up a fat striper right there in the harbor of Highport Marina on a fly that I had whipped up in a hurry the night before.
Highport Marina

Some orange streamer feathers, some olive sheep's hair and bead chain eyes. He smacked it good and I fought him to the boat right there amongst the slips and the million dollar boats.
Marina Striper

At the end of the day we sat in Scott's slip while he cleaned fish. The local heron population came down to argue over scraps, the sun set, the stars came out in the moonless evening sky. And I drove back to McKinney to sleep the sleep of the happy angler. ~ RR

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