Few things make Marc happier than fishing. When he first got his boat all those years ago, I couldn’t understand the allure. You have to wake up before dawn, you’re at the mercy of the tides and the weather and the fish. And all that waiting and trolling and more waiting? I just didn’t get it.
But then I went out with him a few times. And then a bunch of times more. And, although it’s definitely not my thing (plop me on a beach with a book please), I understand why it’s his favorite.
All that quiet. Being low-down in the reeds. Listening to the water lapping against the side of the boat.
Salt air, slimy bait, whizzing lines (if it’s a good day).
The company of good friends. A cold beer or two.
Wind in his hair, sun in his eyes.
A big catch.