Been spending a lot of time on my own... eating, reading, listening to music, doing the dishes, stretching, writing, running, surfing, swimming, working... it's weird how the mind works when you're alone... thoughts--like plots in a Charles Dickens novel--tend to intertwine.
Lately, I've been thinking about the boys in Jersey a lot, the many adventures we had over the summer, and all the good beer we drank through the fall--when we were catching fish.
I was lucky enough to hunt with Gabe Berkey a few times this summer--got some nice flounder, and tautog via the spear.
Our Jersey kine harvest--ready for some cleaning, cold beers, and good friends.
Gabe with his new doormats(one for the front door, one for the back)--he made a killer ceviche for us out of that little trigger I got, with fresh Jersey tomatoes... there is no better tomato in the world.
Gabe is a legend... he loves life and chooses keep it as real as possible, after spending years and years living in rhythm with the natural world, especially the sea, he seems to have developed some kind of innate awareness of how to get what he needs, when he needs it.
Gabe took this fish when we were hunting the long jetty together. I remember swimming up to him right after he shot it. I came up on him in the water and flinched when I saw the fish. He was all charged up like a black lab with a duck in his mouth--just so stoked, and naturally proud. That fish looked different under water--like some kind of prehistoric beast.
