Opening Statements: Abaco

Let's get a few things out of the way, right up front:

No Bahamian residents were harmed in the making of the next few posts. A few bonefish, however, may have been temporarily inconvenienced.

There's something downright civilized about getting out of bed a little early in North Carolina and then being on an Abaco bonefish flat by two-o'clock that same afternoon; tipsy on Kaliks by four. One could get used to such days.

Sitting around the same fire pit shared by Lefty and Flip, Yvonne and Oliver, Thomas and Tom, is exhilarating. Fishing with the guides that regularly pole them around, a bit scary. I'll bet Marty doesn't have to keep telling Lefty, More String, mon. Give it more string!

Picking up a fly rod for the first time in twenty-knot trades can't be easy. Hat's off to the brothers from Minnesota who gutted out a tough couple of days and had fun doing it. Respect.

Fan of funk or not, you gotta love Freddie, on the platform, breaking out the KC and the Sunshine Band at every hook-up. That's the way, uh-huh, uh-huh, I like it!, accompanied by a boogie-woogying drag. Buddy... Buddy...

Fly fishing can be a small world, made clear when you're in the islands and make a deliberately obscure reference to this "secret" Michigan brown trout stream that you've once visited and it turns out to be another guy's home waters.

And let's be perfectly clear, here. Sometimes, you just have to throw at the barracuda.

Glad we got all that straight. Now, let's get on with it.