Confessions of a Back Sliding Baitcaster! (With repentance!)

Well, today a buddy wanted to fish Twin Butts near (in) San Angelo. Wanted to use our Yaks. He has a 9? Pelican and I have the 13 OK Prowler. I was not a member here when I got my yak. Early in May I was gonna take it out for the first time. In attempting a car top load, it slipped, jack knifed and whacked me so hard I thought I had broken a leg. Went ahead and went in Big Time pain and had HUGE contusion that took 8 weeks to fully heal. Needless I was not to thrilled with the yak and had not had it out since. However, since there would be two of us decided to try again.

The devil then entered into my life (again) and I fell into sin. I rigged two, not one, but two, Please forgive for saying this (sheepishly and very quietly spoken) bait casters! The shame I felt was palpable. Just prior to leaving, I did throw in the trusty and by now ubiquitous pearow three weight. Headed out to Twin Butts and almost certain physical pain and the hidden shame of having ratted out fly fishers everywhere!

Lots ?o little bass hitting the despised baits like, ?Yellow Magic?, ?Jitterbug?, ?Watermelon Candy Trick Worm?, those words that burn in your soul as past remembrances of forbidden but tasty fruit. O the shame, O the fun of it all. Nevertheless, quickly I repented and did penance. Paddled back to shore and made a blazing pyre out of the stuff of sin and degradation. Out damned spot! My heart belongs to fly fishing now, I will not stray, as for me and my house, we?ll catch our supper on itty bitty pieces of hair and foam.

I had found the fun in yakking, now to try it with the beloved fly rod. Pearow in hand, I swiftly, throwing a roster tail don?t ya know, paddled back to the killing fields. Proceed to cast a chartreuse JB flys popper and Look Out! Slam, bam Thank You, Ma?am. Yee Haw, cast to the stick-ups, pop it once and hold on. Yes sir, I am back, the heavy burden of blackened cast iron has fallen from me, the eyes darkened by lusting after gleaming winches on graphite legs has left me, my soul is free to make small loops and long wispy casts. To strip line with the best of ?em. The prodigal is home, slew the fatted bass!