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Caribbean Fish Tale

ing fast into a tropical sunrise that highlighted scattered rain clouds. He looked at his depth-sounder and took the boat off plane, easing us to a stop, and passing out fishing rods. Laurenz looked across the water for signs of sea life with eyes trained by years of chasing fish. A native of the Netherlands, he has lived around the world, from Europe to Southeast Asia, before finally settling in the Caribbean. He moved to Aruba a decade ago. When he takes time off from his charter fishing business, he goes fly-fishing for tarpon in Florida. “Look over there,” he said, pointing to ripples on the water. He cast into the shadows, and the rod immediately came to life. “Here,” he said, handing me the rod. It almost

the beach or splashing in the lake, and there we would sit. The morning coolness would turn to heat, and still we sat. It would seem, at least to a young boy, that half the day was spent patiently waiting for something that did not happen. And there was no popsicles at the end of these days. But now that I am my grandfather’s age, I have come to appreciate the quiet he sought on the water, but I also discovered long ago that catching is the fun part of fishing. As we left the harbor, Laurenz kicked the boat into high gear and we skimmed over the calm Aruban waters at 30 miles an hour, head-

Original Oil by David Maass

Lu-Ev

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March 2017 ttimes web magazine  

Tidewater Times March 2017

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