exquisite taste of fish makes me love fishing, but what I attached to it is that it s in my genes, as my elderly father could never get away from the shore and I will not either. Then all of a sudden, BAM the rod almost flies from my hand. Looking back, with all of the knowledge that I have now, my setup was all wrong for academic suspension appeal letter essays saltwater fishing. The water was crystal clear and perfectly still. Definitely was a delight, a therapy, an beautiful day bank fishing with my father. The scandalous waves breaking on the coral forced him to speak out so you could hear. Last summer, in the scorching heat, Pawpaw decided to take my brother and I fishing for the day in Port Sulphur, Louisiana. The faster the team touched the cold water, the faster we could enjoy aromatic coffee that we brought in the old thermos, the beautiful view, saltpeter who brought the gentle dew of the waves hitting the rocks and the cries of seagulls occasionally tried.
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Pawpaw and I both reeled in a couple nice sized speckled trout both weighing in at around three pounds. This 15-inch flounder seemed monstrous compared to my tiny body. I slowly bounced the worm across the bottom. After we pulled in a few more fish from "Tommy's hole" we took a ride up to Four Bayou Pass, which is where the marsh meets the Gulf of Mexico. Pawpaw brought all of his new equipment that he had wanted to test out. He had to act fast, as the hours passed very quickly on the shore. The cool spring air blew against my face, as I prepared everything for the first cast. The walk to the end of the dock seemed like an eternity. A slight current would hopefully push my bait right through the heart of this small fishing utopia. I pulled a worm out of the bucket it squirmed all around as I attempted to hook. I made the first cast of my fishing career. Tales so interesting that I felt as if I lived on a par with the husky voice which narrated.
Shortly I would find that the walk was all worth. It was in the foamy shore where did this relationship. I rolled out of bed and managed to throw on a pair of old torn jeans and a warm flannel. At the end the burden was even heavier as the return added many pounds of fresh fish, but the rewards made it worthwhile. I could spend hours sitting there listening, but rather to hear their stories as we walked in the sand looking for the perfect place to throw the cane and some strings. At this point and time I was the most excited kid in the word. It was a decent sized red fish that weighed around four pounds.