Post Frontal, High Winds, and Sticking Pigs!

Weather: Mid 50s with 15-30 mph winds
Water: 56-57 and heavily stained
Lures and Techniques:lipless crankbaits in red craw and chartruese
Today Maniyak, Stewart Vennable, and I hit up Lake X; a small body of water that shall remain nameless.  This trip was set up for failure, but turned into one of the greatest outings of my fishing career.  Our original plans were to launch at Varner or another big bass producer, however the weather service called for 15-25 mile per hour winds with 30 mile per hour gusts.  This is unsafe on open water, much less un-fishable so we opted to launch in smaller venue in hopes of a reprieve from the wind.  The wind still pummeled us like we offended the gods, but the fish did not seem to care.  The water was a dank, chocolate, double duty from the merciless winds pounding the banks into a froth and killer storm band that ripped across the country the day before.  Still, the fish did not care.  The final burst of feeding before the Spawn was in full force.  Stewart, a lipless crankbait aficionado, scored early and often, going up three to my paltry one including a 6lb 9oz kicker that looked as if it swallowed a stray cat.  The same fish that smashed my crankbait, but somehow missed hookup.  I was quite exasperated considering I had been hooking everything in sight, my shoes, pants, glove and kayak to mention a few.  Heart of a Champion, I snapped some pictures, gave some high fives, and was truly happy for my brother in arms, but pulled my cap brim low over my brow and began chucking and winding with a sole purpose.  It was but thirty minutes that an errant cast plopped a couple feet below an overhanging branch and was c-r-u-s-h-e-d.  To myself,"Three pounder.  Good way to get back into the game."  Boy was I wrong.  A massive head came flying out of the water, gyrating in the attempt to rid herself of the crank.  I let out a series of guttural noises synonymous with the realization that a pig is on your line.  This fish was a beast, pulling, running, and launching herself out of the muddy water.  When she flipped over the net railing into the mesh I let loose a primeval whoop that surely comes from an ancestral hunter gatherer.  Talk about a comeback.  I'll see your 6.9 and raise you a 6.6.  That is what kayak fishing is all about.  In review, we boated between 25-30 bass that, put together, would have make a 20+ pound tournament bag.  Not bad work for a crappy, post frontal, windy day.  Good Fishing!