I learned the ancient pursuit of hook and line from my grandfather at a very young age. Many of my earliest memories are of dangling a worm on a hook off the end of a weather-beaten pier in northern Wisconsin under the watchful eye of Bob ‘Pops’ Doucette. I hear his laugh any time a fish takes the bait and the reel whirs with the telltale sound of a good strike.
I thought of him often as I stood on the sands of Fraser Island’s east coast, or on the deck of a small boat offshore of Wathumba Creek. Thousands of miles and many years removed from those lakes and early memories, I am still entranced by the hook and line.