Sunrise in the surf with Dad

Some mornings are about the fish. This one was about the company.

Dad and I were wading into the surf at Galveston before it was fully light, rods in hand, watching the sky over the Gulf go from gray to pink to gold. There's something about standing waist-deep in moving water as the sun comes up that makes you forget to check the time.

The fishing

We were hoping for speckled trout, and the trout had other plans. What we got instead was skipjack, and plenty of them. It felt like a strike on almost every cast. If you've never caught one, skipjack (ladyfish) fight far above their size. They hit hard, launch themselves out of the water, and tumble across the surface like they're trying to shake the hook loose, which they often do.

Nothing to bring home for dinner, but nonstop action and a lot of laughing every time one leapt clear of the water.

What made it

Honestly, the best part wasn't any single fish. It was standing next to Dad in the surf, trading casts and calling out every strike, with the whole beach still quiet around us. Mornings like that don't come around as often as they should.

The trout will be there next time. I'm just glad we went.