An alarm clock was never useful to us.  We both believed that if we were going to be first on the water then we had to stay awake all night.  Watch whatever tv series or drink whatever sugar heart attack were just the basics of keeping ourselves awake at night.  Such a ridiculous idea from other’s perspective, but to us it was determination because we both knew that waking up at 5 in the morning would never happen.

With all the time dripping from an hour-glass, our fishing rods modeled perfection after our engaged work to guarantee the best fishing experience.  Clean the reel, oil the gears, reline the reel, check for dysfunctioning guides, fix more coffee, debate on which bait to tie onto our rod, and future which fishing spots we would enjoy first was always the routine during a long night.  There was so much time to waste you could say, but we wouldn’t waste a single second.  Any small task that could benefit us in the preceding morning would be achieved.  The two of us enjoyed it, and we did this for every opportunity that rose to us.  That being so, every occasion that we got to do this we prepared our gear, readied ourselves for the prolonged night, but most of all, we grew together as men.

I relate to “we” as my fishing partner, Cole Layton, and me.  It wasn’t even 2 days of being with this guy before I asked him if we could go fishing at Jimmy Duke’s pond, across from his neighborhood.  “We can always ask.  What do we have to lose?” he responded.  And our confidence provided.  It took a knock on the door and the words “of course son!” to ignite friendship and fishing partners for the rest of our lives.

Reservoir, ocean, brackish, pond, lake: we fished everywhere.  Youtube provided us knowledgeable tactics for any water that we fished and that was because not knowing how to fish in certain areas was not good enough in our minds.  Cole and I did not like to be assumed as amateurs, so we always set to prove, to most of the time to ourselves, that we could catch fish in quality and quantity.  If that was the largemouth bass, the gray catfish, the speckled trout, the redfish, or even the white perch, we wanted a fish to be proud of, thus whatever we caught exhilarated our day.  We pursued that feeling, that feeling where nothing can stir away the joy.  It swayed in our soul and nothing could replace it, just from a single creature in your hands.

On the water was where we found our peace.  There was no homework, no chores, and no worries.  It was a delicate piece of our lives to be able to fish like we did.  We never once lost the joy in the activity because we did not fish without each other.  There were days when the fish weren’t biting, so we changed baits and wrapped ourselves in conversation.  Everyone needs someone to talk to, so why not in harmony with a rod in our hands?  He taught me, and I taught him.  It was never-ending because we accepted the fact that learning to be an exceeding person was a great attitude to have.

We were inseparable fisherman.  That is a guy who can have the shirt on my back.  Nothing can replace that friendship because I believe that my he is a designated friend that can never fade away from me.  The fishing brought was together, and it continues to every time we go.  “Let’s catch up, Cole.  Haven’t seen you in awhile.”. An aluminum boat is pushed into the water for another fish, another adventure, another memory, another story.

*This is dedicated to Cole.  The one who has fished with me since my freshman year of high school.  May we never lose our fire to fish wherever our separate lives take us.*