Fishermen's Fleet Reports

It happens every year. The wind blows during the winter. There are no customers. Temps plunge into the 60's, a fine period of time but a lousy temperature. The horse latitudes of our existence, meandering, no velocity, either in the speed vector or that of direction. Then we bottom out at Carnival. Noise, rides, drunks in the streets..... But then it starts to turn. The wind attenuates some, the sun stays with us just a little longer, the hardiest among you venture down, trying to hit the eye of the wind, looking for some early season yellow tail, or pargo, maybe some left over dorado, perhaps even a rogue marlin. That's all happened so far, and then, completely out of the blue, literally, a day like today cranks up. It's dry, it's still, it's hot, oh boy. The initial grumblings of spring. Sure, it might blow a time or two more, but now I remember what I've been waiting for. Standing in front of the house, like a lizard on a rock, just soakin' it up. People out and about, but only a few of us still look like the Michelin man, most have shed their under and over coats, could spandex be far away? It's great! Nick is drivin' home with Andres, loaded with 6 nice yellow tail and some ancillary victims. A couple of small groups are coming down at the end of the week. Like a gouchy ol' sow I poke out from my hibernation habitation, and grunt approvingly. Time to stretch, shake off the detritus of winter and get out there and give it a run. How about you? Whether it's comin' down here to catch a couple hundred pounds of hamachi, or bookin' a summer trip so that you have a pylon out there to look forward to, or even throw the long bomb and book next winter for Mag Bay, you really should begin to scratch that itch. If you're Jonesing, were the place. Take Care Y'all, David