
What would drive a man to stare heavenward in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean?
It isn’t a bird. It isn’t a plane. It is a mistake. But let me back up for a minute.
Sight casting for large fish on the flats does something to a guy. Not only are you fishing to the fish that you can see, but you’re also kind of fishing to the fish that you can’t see. Any given cast into the ocean could yield something spectacular. Any cast might turn into a situation where you’re quickly clearing your hand from a whizzing reel knob. That optimistic uncertainty is in the back of your mind. The forefront of your thoughts are dominated by the shadows and silhouettes that appear and disappear right in front of you.
Perhaps it is because I’m a simple trout fisherman at heart, but all of this gets to me. Rash decisions happen. Well-formed casts, aimed at 11 o’clock fall apart when something flashes at 2 o’clock. The irrationality of it all is that there was a specific reason, a previously seen flash, at 11 o’clock. That is just one example. And it is significantly more reasonable than the situation that lead to my sky bound gaze.









