All Writers Are Liars

All Writers Are Liars

All writers are liars, whether reef-fishing miles offshore on the Atlantic or fishing through a hole in the north country ice. The smokestack of the hulk gloomed from the depths, barely visible when the July sun ricocheted off the surface of the sea. Halfway to the...

The Ghost of Old Woman Bay

The Ghost of Old Woman Bay

"There was a sudden rustle in the grass, and I heard the unmistakable whisper of soft and silent feet. But only for an instant, only for a step or two before it stopped and resumed its own curiosity as to what I might be." There are ghosts still there at Old Woman...

The Underwater Fossil Hunter

The Underwater Fossil Hunter

For Bill Eberlein, every dive is an opportunity to discover a Megalodon tooth or some other fossil that has not seen the light of day in millions of years. It is a universally acknowledged truth among fishermen, sportsmen and hopefully the general public, that one...

Rumshark

Rumshark

When the shark hit the end of the line, it came up, shook his head just like those mahi did. The dock bowed, creaked, groaned, sagged. Clink, clink, clink. I was bent over the gunnel of Maggie C, a 26-foot Maine lobster boat rigged for ocean-running. Six weeks, 600...

The Shining Tides: Fall

The Shining Tides: Fall

Roccus fed and strengthened, yet did not grow in size. Despite her healing, her feeding, her strengthening, she continued to waste away. Roccus sank to the bouldered deeps off Mashnee. The hooks of the plug were merely an annoyance, the weight of it a nuisance, which...

The Shining Tides: Summer

The Shining Tides: Summer

Roccus sinuated, swirled and sounded, and all the line so laboriously won was lost before the boat could be brought on a following course. So the May was gone. The backward spring leaped to keep abreast of the sun’s orbit. Anglers sandpapered rods, wound guides and...