We all remember our first time, even if it came soaked in a sparkling forty of Old English. Mine was wet, quick, and succesful four times. It started at the buzz of a 6 a.m. alarm clock, a shimmy into my bikini, and a five minute car ride to the surf's edge. The sun poked above the horizon as the sand squeaked beneath my feet for the two mile walk to Gordon Pass (a waterway connecting the downtown Naples backwaters to the Gulf of Mexico). It was almost like I walked a living Florida postcard - dolphins darted atop the waves, rays shot beneath the surface, and a manatee's nose broke the surface for air.
When we finally reached the pass, I had my line in the water before my boyfriend even set down the tackle box. I flicked my orange and black jerk bait twice, then whack and my line was running. It made that first run for less than a minute, then tired our after a second short run. My first snook measured out at 23 inches, which is far bigger than other first experiences can be. I landed three others within the 20 to 25 inch range that morning, and my boyfriend got shut out. I'd say a good first time.
Ashley 1, Keith 0.
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