Eleuthera, Bahamas May 2004
POSTSCRIPT
Our final day: we bid farewell to Aaron (who had an early flight to catch) and went fishing. In keeping with the cosmic laws that govern such things, this day dawned with perfect weather — just as the angler who needed it most was flying out. Winds were light and variable and [...]
Posts Tagged ‘wading’
Strange Weather: Adventures in DIY Fly Fishing (Part III)
Strange Weather: Adventures in DIY Fly Fishing (Part II)
Eleuthera, Bahamas May 2004
Someone once said, always put in the weather. Good advice. Our first exploratory drive to some nearby flats ended in a rain out. Clouds were piling up to the northeast and the forecast looked grim.
We found this flat by the simple expedient of stopping to ask the first local we saw. As [...]
Dog Days
August 2000
“Bloody heat! I kya’ see how nobody kin stan’ dis kine a’ heat! Bloody Augus’!”
No one is around to hear my mutterings as I string the rod. Should have done this back at home, but that would have made too much sense, been too logical, you know. Sweat burns my eyes as I thread [...]
Bonefish Everywhere… Right?
June 28, 2000
It has been a continual source of surprise for me how many different species one can mistake for bonefish. To the neophyte any nervous water, splashes, wakes, or tails that appear on a flat are automatically “bones”. Man, nothing could be further from the truth. So far I’ve mistaken grunts, shads, mullets, jacks, [...]
Out There…
June 11, 2000
I think I shall one day publish a book of my memoirs on bonefishing. It will be titled Casting at Shadows, and listed under humor.
The confessed trout bum, John Gierach, says that “the solution to any problem is to go fishing, and the worse the problem, the longer the trip should be.” Sounds [...]
The Early Bird
June 10, 2000
Daybreak, meridian: 81º west. Southeast breeze, easing to five knots.
In the harbor boats at anchor ride a smooth swell that passes easily beneath to foam against the dark ironshore that rings the bay. To the east, giant cumuli pile, a dark mass against the purple sky. Overhead, ragged clouds hurry on their way to Cuba, two [...]
I smell fried fish.
May 25, 2000
My car has ceased to operate. Or more precisely, the steering has. I am now reduced to biking everywhere, which is ridiculous since it’s already in the mid-eighty’s out there. I hate to begin a day at work by soaking myself in sweat and sending my pulse to levels that, honestly, just can’t [...]
