I spent the morning kayaking around the islands and channels
of Aransas and Redfish bays dodging speeding boats carrying fishermen and fighting a wind gusting 15-20
miles per hour out of the southeast. I launched my kayak at the public boat ramp. On the
return trip, I had to avoid pickup trucks with trailers backing down the
ramp to load their boats. I lifted my kayak onto the sidewalk next to the ramp
and a man called out “Hey, Mr. Kayak, how was it out there?” “Windy” I
replied. He was small and slim, with a sunburned face, and white hair sticking
out beneath a tattered baseball cap. “The water’s warmed up; it must be in the
60s” I continued. He was sitting at a picnic table next to the ramp. There were several
fillet knives laid out in front of him and he was sharpening one on a
rectangular stone. It was hard to tell how old he was; his weathered face added
at least a decade to his age.
