Standing on a 4-foot ladder with waves lapping at the soles of my boots, I am surrounded by a world of gray. Gray sky, gray hills with gray rocks and gray brush, gray water over a gray bottom … even my waders and gloves are shades of gray. The fluorescent orange dot floating on the water’s surface 50 feet from my perch glows in this otherwise monochromatic environment, a spark of bright color that draws my eyes and forbids them to look elsewhere. For nearly two hours it has ridden the chop, always drifting to the right, keeping my hope afloat with it.
Then it disappears, pulled into the gray. For a heartbeat I feel like something very important to me has suddenly gone missing. When I raise the rod to…
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Game & Fish East (Digital) - 1 Issue, February 2025