There is no shortage of good things in the world today. Thanks to the advancement of technology and manufacturing, good is everywhere. Good is the new average. Good is the new standard. Good is the price of admission. There’s nothing inherently bad a

Glancing off the stern of the driftboat, I admired the tall limestone bluffs stretching skyward, dotted with hardwood trees just starting to show the orange tinges of fall. The conversation had hit a lull, and I relished the human silence so I could

AS I PULL INTO A PUBLIC PARK ON THE WESTERN EDGE OF BROWARD COUNTY, the sun is just peeking over the clusters of two-story McMansions that stop abruptly where the wilds of Florida take over. Corey Nowakowski is sitting in the driver’s seat of the onl

You can’t see Flip Pallot’s home from the road. The driveway isn’t all that long, but the native cabbage palms and oak trees have created a hammock that blocks the sun’s harshest rays, allowing a soft light to filter through. The homestead has the au

I’M EARLY, AND THE RAMP IS PACKED with trucks, trailers and boats — a buzzing hive of activity. And like a nest of wasps, there is a hostility to it. Honking, yelling, profanity. Anglers jump the line, cause traffic jams and incite “ramp rage,” a clo

The fishing around Cedros Island is similar to that in Southern California, but the yellowtail, calico bass, white sea bass, halibut and barracuda are bigger, stronger and meaner. After my August visit to this craggy, arid Pacific island about midway

The full moon was a few days off, and steady 2-to 3-foot swells rolled over the empty point. I’m drawn to this long stretch of surf, sand, glacial debris and wind whenever cracks appear in my world. I’d lost two friends this fall, and my earliest fis

The timeworn fish weir on the East Branch of the Delaware River may have trapped its last eel. The stone-and-wood structure in Hancock, New York, has been operated for decades by Ray Turner, whom locals refer to as “The Eel Man.” Turner also runs Del

TONY HUERTA LOVES FISHING OFFSHORE. He started chasing wahoo, dolphin and grouper from an early age. His father was an avid snapper fisherman in Miami, and he would take little Tony on overnight trips out of Key Largo. “My mom used to tell stories of

I’VE ACCEPTED THE FACT that I may never catch a giant trevally. I’d love to, of course, but I’m a realist. It’s unlikely that some tackle company or lodge will offer me an all-expenses-paid trip to Vanuatu, and when you write about fish for a living,

Brookies. In every inch of this small stream where a fish could be — brookies. Fat, strong, eager. Blackjawed beauties with red bellies so bright I thought they were bleeding. Strikes so aggressive I could only imagine they were starving. Yet each st

From the moment I received my Summer issue, I was taken by the incredible cover and the offshore eye of photographer Harry Hindmarsh. To be fair, all the photos in AJ are the best — I’m just partial to offshore because that’s my passion. And I’ve alw

Few people in professional bass fishing retire. In a sport that feels like a grab-bag of NASCAR, professional wrestling and tall tales, the prizes are too sweet, the spotlight too bright, the itch of competition too strong and the sponsorship deals t

Sharpies have been using these slimy, squirming critters to catch stripers for more than 100 years, and they’re still popular for those who cast, drift or troll for large stripers. Eels are a tough, durable bait with a history of attracting the large

As the plane approached Freeport International Airport, I glanced out the window at the clear skies stretching across the horizon and the azure waters shimmering in the distance. The picturesque June weather was a far cry from the catastrophic condit

“YOU SHOULD’VE SEEN YOUR FACE when Cooper was reeling in that grouper,” said my longtime friend Tony DiGiulian. “You were so happy. That smile was priceless.” My son Cooper, who is 9, was diagnosed with Trisomy 21, or Down syndrome, while my wife was

It starts with worms plucked from compost,a bag of stinky clams leaking over my mother’s fridge.Driving a hook through an eel’s gasping lipsdidn’t go well with my first girlfriend. But I knew what worked. One night in Key West, I blew half my paychec

I’m not sure exactly how old I was the first time I rowed a boat. I was young, I know that. The craft was a banged-up aluminum jonboat. The venue was Brockway Lake — actually a lily pad-choked pond — just down the road from my childhood home in weste

Given enough time and distance, you begin to see more clearly those events that shaped your fishing life. They appear to me now as 60-year-old memories that evoke the same feelings as on the days the actual episodes occurred. My recollections are wra

I’VE BEEN AROUND BOATS BASICALLY MY ENTIRE LIFE. My dad always had some sort of boat for us to play around in, from the time we were kids until I started buying my own boats. I’m 51 now, and I’ve lived in Miami since I was 2 years old. I owned a bunc

I spend roughly a month in Alaska each summer, usually chasing rainbow trout and salmon in the creeks and rivers. All told, I’ve spent nearly three years of my life fishing in Alaska. On a few occasions, I’ve gone offshore to fish, and it’s quite a b

FLY-FISHING IS TRANSITORY. We live it gracefully — some of us less than gracefully. The cast, the retrieve, the hopeful connection, all appear and disappear in blissful evanescence. When you get a chance to partake in it, the moment should live on lo

In his prime, Cape Cod surf fisherman Ron Arra would uncork mighty casts that seemed bound for the moon. A former professional athlete, he won five national championships for distance casting between 1983 and 1988. He tossed a 5¼-ounce lead weight on

A funny thing happened somewhere in the middle of Cape Cod, Massachusetts. We asked a total stranger for some local fishing dope, and he happily shared it. This past spring I was feet in the sand with my friend and colleague Bill Sisson, getting punc

“I’M GIVING YOU ONE MORE SHOT, DUDE, AND THAT’S IT. This is getting stupid.” I heard my good friend Capt. Eric Kerber loud and clear but pretended I didn’t. He wasn’t wrong. This was both stupid and selfish. I was the only guy on the charter who care

Capt. Tim Hyde, a 67-year-old fishing-boat skipper who grew up in New Jersey, has spent his entire adult traveling the globe in search of fish. He’s targeted giant marlin, tuna and wahoo offshore, and thrown flies at bonefish, tarpon and trout, but h