Monday, June 9, 2014
When you get blown off the water you’re forced to get creative. After months of anticipation, our first day’s disappointment at being unable to sight fish the wind-chopped flats could only be overcome with a little initiative and a serious reduction in standards.
“Let’s go to the jetty.”
We hemmed and we hawed for a moment or two until Chris free associated the possibility of finding migrating tarpon and, with that pretty delusion as quixotic motivation, we jumped in the jeep and drove south.
Our lofty ambitions of bowing to tail-walking kings from majestic rocky positions (as waves crashed dramatically with each silver leap) quickly degenerated into attempting to snag sea slugs as they drifted past on the outgoing tides.
We fishermen are nothing if not flexible.