Here are just a few things I brought to be prepared for...if things didn't go as planned. I really thought I'd get into toothier stuff (hence the gloves, pliers and knife for ditching) and was concerned I'd have more downtime than I wanted (hence the book). Didn't use any of it!
One of the Wildlife Refuges near where we stayed. Sorry, Chris, no nudity allowed.
View of the lagoon in Bon Secour--I scouted this for fishing but never did anything here. I still don't know quite what to do with brackish water. There are plenty of fish in there, though, some of them large.
I pretended these were tarpon...on the end of my line...at the same time. But really they were just dolphin on a watch-tour. Bummer, no tarpon.
My favorite fishing pants: linen, sun bleached, salt stained, raggy-edged, blood spattered and comfy as hell. Best pants ever.
We had lots of contact with the local oil cleanup team and safety crews. They patrolled the beach looking for...I don't know what, but were all really nice guys and gals. I got to know a few of them fishing so much. I even got to sit in one and talk to Mike; he gave me some great tips on fishing. From what he said, word of the successful fly-fisher on Ft. Morgan spread. I definitely didn't see a single other flycaster this entire trip. I think people down here think its only for trout--no one could believe that I caught anything, much less as much as I did.
The sea was angry that day, my friends.