I have heard it said by at least one serious tournament-minded gentleman-angler type that one can really send his or her competitive advantage rocketing into the stratosphere by not just pre-fishing, but also reserving some of a crew’s collective “me time” for seriously high-power...uhhh...strategerizing? (I think that’s what it’s called.) Lisa Helme DanforthJun 1st, 2014
I realize it's May according to the issue date on the cover of this magazine, and that if I had even a small shred of decency left in my shriveled editorial heart, I’d use the allotted space here to rejoice in all the wonders of the month that marks the beginning (in earnest) of the new season in salty waters. The weather is nice, I’m thrilled we’ve finally shaken off that interminable winter, and the fishing should get lights-out good for at least a species or two by late-month. But unfortunately, I squandered the last of my decency on Girl Scout cookies, and all I have left for the foreseeable future is a keyboard full of misery and pessimism and doubt.Lisa Helme DanforthMay 1st, 2014
I am not a fifth-generation fisherman. I have never warped planks to replace the rub rail on a 60-foot wooden dragger. And while I can disassemble just about any ma- rine propulsion system, I’m not aware of a single engine I could put back together in anything close to working order. Hell, when I started out on deck in the mid 1990s, I was a googan’s googan—a guy with all the seafaring aptitude of a three-legged Clydesdale. I mention this because, if I oc- casionally write something that sounds pretty sharp in the nautical department, it reflects something I learned the hard way—something I fought every grain of my personal inclinations to eventually understand.Lisa Helme DanforthJan 1st, 2014
