Y Ahora Que?

The only problem with an experience like catching a tarpon is making the next move. If you land a ten-inch trout, you immediately cast again with hopes of a twelve or a twenty-inch trout. But after fighting a 93 pound tarpon from your kayak? The question is so baffling that yesterday I did the unthinkable and paddled on the bay without one shred of fishing tackle on board. Made a nice circuit of the Brothers and Red Rock and enjoyed some current maneuvers, but that's just stalling tactics in a life defined by fishing.

"Y ahora que?" is exactly the question I asked before Chepe and the boys showed up to bail me out, though. Maybe there will be some more divine intervention for me now. What seems more likely is some diabolic intervention, in the form of -- a job. Many weeks ago I had the evil thought of abandoning my six weeks in Patagonia (the next sabbatical plan) for a contract job short enough to not interfere with six weeks in Alaska (the main event). Talking with Google last night strongly suggests that this awful thing may happen. As good as that might be for my resume, it would put a damper on a fishin sabbatical and its related blog.

But I'm ahead of myself here. It ain't over till it's over. Don't count your tarpon sausage until it's in the boat. And so on. No matter what, I'll still be out there for Caddis Madness in March, and will go shadaholic in May. On opening day on the Pit I'll go to those rocky riverbanks thinking like Whitman that I am mad for it to be in contact with me. Vamos a ver.