For a brief moment my attention turned back to the little Brooke trout I was about to release and when I looked up again the guy was gone, vanished. Over the years I have told my self it must have been a deer , but I know what I saw it was a man a Native American dressed in deer skins and in a split second he was gone. Out to SeaIn the middle of the ocean, no one can hear you scream. I looked where he was pointing at and sure as heck there was a shape moving along the bank. Rex put the stealth motor in the water and quietly moved to that bank to shine a light on it. “I swear I heard a woman scream” I said looking back in the direction of the scream.
— bill (@stmirrenbill) August 2, 2014
We had enough that the next day we were going to have a fish fry. Catching this prehistoric looking fish takes perseverance. Indeed, rare are those to have seen a M’Benga in real life and even rarer are those to have fished it.
😔 Took a while to edit the episode but I’m all better now 😊. Did you enjoy this rather long style of video? Or are there any other stories you’d want to hear? Exorcising ghost nets from our oceans will require commitment, cooperation, and innovation.
A small beach , was only a 30 second walk from my front door. An engine room fire then caused the ship to be abandoned and eventually sink, taking its ghastly secret, and any chance of an autopsy investigation, to Davy Jones’ locker. Andy spent 25 years searching for a 19 inch crappie to call his own catch.
A tenth season started airing in January 2022. Buddy’s background in the outdoors and positive, service-minded attitude helps him related to almost everyone. His ability to make people feel comfortable and relaxed when recording allows for stories to happen naturally. His questions and great listening skills helps to bring out the best in every storyteller. He is passionate about fishing, but is even more passionate about learning the stories and backgrounds of fishing enthusiasts from around the world.
Captain Fred dozed off until about 3 a.m. When he awoke wondering if the snapper had started biting again. Not wanting to wake his crew, Fred made his way back to his commercial bandit reel and saw what he thought was a slab of bonito lying on the fishbox. Imagine how high he jumped when the “slab of bonito” suddenly moved when he poked a knife at it.
She and Aria weren’t allowed to tell anybody that their parents played in the garage. And then her breath caught and her face reddened, her skin prickling under her shirt, when she saw what she saw. The tropical sun was sweltering as we forced ourselves up the channel.
As the action died down, the fog rolled in again and I appeared to be all alone again. Since I was tired and a little spooked by the mornings events, I packed up my gear and headed back to the parking lot. Just like when I arrived, mine was the only car there. I have no idea where the other fishermen came from or how they disappeared and to this day, I’m not entirely convinced they were actually there.
Someone rasped in what I could only assume to be the tribe’s language. A second voice responded in the same tongue. The final barrier a few miles up piqued my interest. Sharpened wooden pikes jutted from the water facing downstream, like the spiked walls of a moat. Someone had definitely placed them there to keep trespassers out. I stood up in my perch, peering over the pikes.