Now, the New York Times is a venerable old paper and some of their writers… well… they write very well.
People fly to India, stay in a hut for a month. They sail across the Pacific. They camp for weeks in the remotest stretches of northern Maine or build yurts in western Montana or walk the Alaskan bush with binoculars and field guide. They go to Australia. They suffer the hardship of distant travel against the serenity they hope to find when they get where they’re going, and they work hard to earn the money or time that allows them to do it. Run into someone just back from a long sojourn to the outback, tanned and rested and suddenly kind, and odds are he’s either wealthy or Buddhist, a college kid, dreamer or life dropout, sometimes all five.
It does not have to be this way. Not if you follow the bonefish, not if you come to Lovely Bay, to this long, desolate sandbar at the southeastern end of the Bahamian archipelago to walk the flats of Acklins Bight with fly rod, concentration and hope. Not if you’re game and have a few days. You won’t need more than that.
Now, that is just beautifully written. Doesn’t it just make you want to go cast a fly to a cruising bonefish?
Sam is fishing with Fidel on Acklins… hardly the first time I’ve read or heard that name. Makes me very much want to head there and learn at the foot of Fidel. www.acklins.com