Willy Landham
08-16-2006, 02:29 PM
My morning drive to work had come to an abrupt halt. A large freight train had taken up residence in the crossing ahead of me. Already running late and in a hurry I look down the length of the train... no end in sight. As I sat there the realization that I was in for a long wait was sinking in. I listened to the clack-clack, clack-clack, clack-clack as the train rumbled by and was slowly lulled into a daze. My fishing buddies would argue that this is my normal state but I've mostly learned to ignore their rants. While listening to the train thunder by I stared at the warning sign in front of me. STOP, LOOK, and LISTEN it said. I looked down at my watch and back at the train... still no end. So my attention was once again back on the sign. STOP, LOOK, and LISTEN... surely intended as a warning but I began to contemplate a different message...
I thought back to a particular day on a fishing trip to the Marls of Abaco. We had spent a glorious morning casting to tailing bonefish but as the sun rose higher in the sky, clouds began to form and build. We spent the next couple hours moving from location to location trying to get back out into the sunshine. When bonefishing you can't catch what you can't see. Finally it became so cloudy we decided to stop for lunch. I was hoping the clouds would break up soon so I quickly inhaled my sandwich to be ready for my turn at the front of the boat. The weather had other plans though. As I was finishing up the last few bites of my sandwich the sound of thunder rumbled off in the distance. A storm was gathering and it was headed our way. Too far from the boat ramp and too soon to give up on the day we found shelter next to some large mangroves. Nothing to do but wait now. I sat there frustrated silently cursing the weather. "Come on", I said "clear up!" I had planned and looked forward to this trip for months. I wanted to be fishing not sitting there. But the thunder rumbled again... seemingly answering my plea with a firm and resounding "NO!" So I decided to lie back on the deck and close my eyes. The breeze picked up a little bit and you could feel the cool fresh dampness as the storm drew near. And then, almost imperceptive at first, I could hear a sound. Kind of like the sound you hear when you hold a sea shell close to your ear. It grew and grew in volume until it sounded like the surf crashing onto the beach with a thunderous roar. The rain came like a wall of water and quickly soaked through my clothes. I could feel the water pool up on my chest and trickle down my side. The leaves on the mangroves thrashed in the wind and our small boat was rocked. This continued for several minutes at high intensity and then slowly and gradually it began to diminish. After a while it once again sounded as if you were listening to a sea shell. I could also hear droplets as they rolled off the mangrove leaves and dripped into the water. Plink, plink, plink, plop. Plink, plink, plink, plop. I felt the sun warm my body and I opened my eyes. I watched the last remnants of the rolling, boiling clouds move back out over the open ocean. Sitting up I looked back out at the storm. Two tendrils, one large and one small, snaked out of the clouds and reached toward the ocean. "If those touch the water we'll see a waterspout" said the guide. We watched for a while as the tendrils reached tentatively but never quite touched the water. A few moments later they withdrew back into the clouds as if to say "That water's just too cold!"
The skies cleared and we continued our day of fishing. We caught many more bones but later that evening, while sitting down for dinner, my thoughts were not on the fish we caught but the storm. What a NEAT experience. Sometimes we get so caught up in the details that we fail to slow down, take it easy, and really enjoy the wondrous world in which we live. We sometimes need to be reminded to STOP, LOOK, and LISTEN.
HONK!!! HONK!!! HONK!!! I was jolted out of the black hole of reminiscence and back into the present day world by the motorist behind me. The train had passed but I had not noticed. Prodded along, I now continued my drive into work but no longer was I in a hurry.
I thought back to a particular day on a fishing trip to the Marls of Abaco. We had spent a glorious morning casting to tailing bonefish but as the sun rose higher in the sky, clouds began to form and build. We spent the next couple hours moving from location to location trying to get back out into the sunshine. When bonefishing you can't catch what you can't see. Finally it became so cloudy we decided to stop for lunch. I was hoping the clouds would break up soon so I quickly inhaled my sandwich to be ready for my turn at the front of the boat. The weather had other plans though. As I was finishing up the last few bites of my sandwich the sound of thunder rumbled off in the distance. A storm was gathering and it was headed our way. Too far from the boat ramp and too soon to give up on the day we found shelter next to some large mangroves. Nothing to do but wait now. I sat there frustrated silently cursing the weather. "Come on", I said "clear up!" I had planned and looked forward to this trip for months. I wanted to be fishing not sitting there. But the thunder rumbled again... seemingly answering my plea with a firm and resounding "NO!" So I decided to lie back on the deck and close my eyes. The breeze picked up a little bit and you could feel the cool fresh dampness as the storm drew near. And then, almost imperceptive at first, I could hear a sound. Kind of like the sound you hear when you hold a sea shell close to your ear. It grew and grew in volume until it sounded like the surf crashing onto the beach with a thunderous roar. The rain came like a wall of water and quickly soaked through my clothes. I could feel the water pool up on my chest and trickle down my side. The leaves on the mangroves thrashed in the wind and our small boat was rocked. This continued for several minutes at high intensity and then slowly and gradually it began to diminish. After a while it once again sounded as if you were listening to a sea shell. I could also hear droplets as they rolled off the mangrove leaves and dripped into the water. Plink, plink, plink, plop. Plink, plink, plink, plop. I felt the sun warm my body and I opened my eyes. I watched the last remnants of the rolling, boiling clouds move back out over the open ocean. Sitting up I looked back out at the storm. Two tendrils, one large and one small, snaked out of the clouds and reached toward the ocean. "If those touch the water we'll see a waterspout" said the guide. We watched for a while as the tendrils reached tentatively but never quite touched the water. A few moments later they withdrew back into the clouds as if to say "That water's just too cold!"
The skies cleared and we continued our day of fishing. We caught many more bones but later that evening, while sitting down for dinner, my thoughts were not on the fish we caught but the storm. What a NEAT experience. Sometimes we get so caught up in the details that we fail to slow down, take it easy, and really enjoy the wondrous world in which we live. We sometimes need to be reminded to STOP, LOOK, and LISTEN.
HONK!!! HONK!!! HONK!!! I was jolted out of the black hole of reminiscence and back into the present day world by the motorist behind me. The train had passed but I had not noticed. Prodded along, I now continued my drive into work but no longer was I in a hurry.