BY TONY REHAGEN
Fishing is a leap of faith. You’re a hunter not quite sure of what you’re hunting, or where, or how you’re going to land it, or whether your quarry is actually lurking beneath the dark depths at all. But you shoulder your pole and you walk the long concrete pier all the same. You tie on your hook, thread it with a wriggling nightcrawler, and rear back. You cast. The sinker plops as it meets the water’s surface. The wait begins—and so does the magic of angling. Silently, you breathe in the salty sea air. A gentle breeze brushes your face. You spot the fin of a dolphin playing just feet away. You imagine a trophy flounder or redfish or trout circling your red-and-white bobber. And, as you finger the line feeling for the slightest tug, you whisper a prayer.
