Later in graduate school, I would surf fish on the outer banks. I built my own rods from blanks. We called those long rods Hatteras Heavers. Those were the days of sleeping in my truck on the beach, fishing the outgoing tide for blue fish and red drum, standing around a camp fire, telling fishing yarns and having a few beers. It was serious fun.
Sadly enough, two fellows who used to go with me died way too young. One died from complications of falling off a pier at a Christmas party after getting drunk and passing out. Those attending to him were also drunk, so when they picked him up and carried him, his spinal nerve was severed/damaged to such an extent that he became a quadraplegic. He later died from the severity of this condition. Another friend developed a brain tumor and died within six months of diagnosis. I still have photos of all of us on the beach enjoying the comraderie and eating fresh fish cooked up in a skillet with some garlic, olive oil, and a bit of soy sauce. It all seems like yesterday.
Anymore, my fishing time has been limited by work and sailing. But today, in mid-week, it just seemed like the perfect thing to do. So I set out to fish the marsh fringes on the falling tide.
|This poor bonnet head shark looked really scared. He was fine though after getting the hook out of his lip and gladly swam away.|
|A small sting ray. Note the circle hook which is easy to remove and prevents damage to the gullet.|