Living the Dream - again

Last weekend my Father and his wife Christine came down to the Keys for the long Christmas holiday weekend, and on one of the days we went fishing again with Dream Catcher Charters out of Key West.

Once again they were able to put us on plenty of fish, not to mention secure a perfect day of weather for us. I caught my first grouper and my first (of many) porgy, as well as plenty of snappers - but this trip was about Christine, and the nice lemon shark she pulled in.


Capt. Dave took care of everything. In fact he caught the blue runner for bait, and knew that it would catch us a shark. He was right, and it didn't take long before the rod was bent.

Once she had the shark hooked, she spent the next 15 minutes walking around the boat following and fighting it with all she had. Finally it tired and she reeled it in - the first shark she ever caught.





Capt. Dave does a quick and safe release of the worn out Lemon shark.


Living the dream.

Fantasy Football

I have to admit it - I'm hooked. Bad.

Until last year, I always shook my head when I heard people talking about their fantasy football teams. I mean why should I care about how many yards were gained by some obscure running back on a team I didn't like? Do I really need to know who Selvin Young is? Patrick Crayton? Rob Bironas?

The answer is a big YES.

It doesn't help matters that I lean ever so slightly toward being obsessive-compulsive. Although I wouldn't call the condition a disorder, I will admit that it's a beast to deal with sometimes - it gets very hungry and requires regular feeding. Enter fantasy football. I found something I could do where my OC would be an asset.

Last year I joined a league along with several of my coworkers, and learned what it's all about. Most of the other 'owners' drafted their teams and started the same lineup every week, with a few minor exceptions due to bye-weeks or injuries. Due to my lack of experience, I had drafted what I felt was a weak team. Because of this, I would scan the stats of player after player day after day, looking for matchups that would be favorable for the next game. I'd pick them up, use them that week, then throw them away and do it all over again the next week with a different set of players.

Somehow my team (the Dreadsox) managed to get to the Super Bowl, but was up against a team with all-stars at every position. I won, despite fielding a team headed by backups like Jeff Garcia and Ladell Betts. Who, you ask? Exactly. Matchups - they were in the right place at the right time. My obsessive scrambling and tinkering had paid off, and I got paid.

This year, despite taking a new job and moving 1500 miles away, I was still able to play in the same league with the same friends thanks to the internet. After a very slow start, I put together a strong team but fell just short of making the playoffs. The same team I played against in the Super Bowl last year was there again this year, with an even stronger team. He won, and it's a good thing he did - I think he may have gone postal if he hadn't. Seriously. And I wouldn't have blamed him.

Such is the maddening state of fantasy football. It has completely changed the way I watch a game, and the way I follow the NFL season. I don't really have a favorite team anymore - I have MY team. Who cares if the Patriots keep winning - the season is over for the Dreadsox.

I can't wait for next year.

Smith Mountain Boys

Every fall, the Smith Mountain Boys hit the water for some combat fishing. Me (Sneak), my Dad (Pops), and my brother (Fats). We all live in different states now, but never too far to keep us from going fishing. The first year we did this we went to Smith Mountain Lake in Virginia, which spawned the name.

This year for SMBXI, Pops and Fats came here to Key West since I was unable to leave the area, and we went out two days with Dream Catcher Charters in search of fish.

Two of the more memorable fish hooked on the first day were a large tarpon that Pops had on the line before it broke off (just seconds before it probably would have broken him), and a giant snook (38+") that Fats caught, biting in the middle of a group of tarpon we had targeted. It also escaped being landed, using it's razor sharp gillplate to saw its way to freedom.




The best fish of this trip was caught late on the second day. It was our last spot, we'd all seen what time it was and knew our charter was ending in minutes. While Pops and Fats reeled in fish after fish using small 1/4 oz bucktails, the Captain rigged up a 2 oz bucktail tipped with a small pinfish for me to throw, hoping we'd find something big. Nope, nothing hit it. Meanwhile Fats felt sorry for me (or grew tired from reeling in so many jacks), and we traded rigs.



As I finally got in on the action and started reeling in my share of fish, the Capt made an adjustment to the big rig Fats was now throwing, replacing the pinfish with a shrimp. That did it. The very next cast, something hit it. Fats set the hook. First it swam toward us, so it's true size was disguised. Then just as it got close to the boat, it ran. Hard. 200 yards away, I saw a big fish leaping and spinning in midair. Hey look at THAT!


The fight was on. He'd hooked into a Spinner Shark, and it wasted no time showing us where it's name came from. For the next 15 minutes it went wild, leaping over and over and spinning several revolutions each time it jumped.

Once the shark figured out that somehow he was still hooked, he went to plan B: dive and hold tight. It started to look like he was getting the better of Fats, who was really looking tired. Then the reel broke out of it's seating in the rod. Instinctively, instead of rallying to his aid I busted out with a big belly laugh. I mean we're guys, any chance to make fun of each other always rises to the top of the agenda. Finally I helped him get it reset, and the fight was resumed.

After about 30 minutes of fighting, Fats finally reeled him in to within view, only about 5 feet from the boat. Then, with one last surge, the shark managed to break the line. He was gone.

So we had another successful and eventful SMB...and I learned a few new curse words.

Keys Disease

The inspiration for the title of this blog, this man lives among the same mangroves that I paddle through. As I launched my canoe at 8 AM he asked if he could go fishing with me. When I said OK, he hustled across the street to grab a 6 pack first.

He barely weighed more than the bucket of water he replaced. He faced the wrong way. He didn't fish, he just watched. And drank his beer. And talked. Keys Disease. I fished, and listened.

All in all I think he had a great morning.

Jamaican Breeze

This year for Thanksgiving I went to Jamaica for 10 days - you know, the weather in the Keys can get very unbearable in the fall and I really needed a tropical break. I managed to score a great deal on skyauction and stayed at Breezes Runaway Bay, an all-inclusive resort on the north coast just a
few miles west of Ocho Rios. Great beach, good food and drinks, friendly people, great vacation.

My favorite day on the island was when I took a tour high up into the Blue Mountains. The drive took nearly 3 hours, winding through several towns before climbing thousands of feet into the foggy mountains. Once there, we were treated to some of the best views Jamaica has to offer, and given our mountain bikes for the trip back down. We did experience some rain while zig-zagging our way down, but that comes with the territory (rain forest/jungle) and the tour company was ready with ponchos. All told it was a day well spent, and a full day it was - we left the resort at 7:15 AM and got back at 7:30 PM.


My only complaint was that I would have loved to have been able to take the challenge at my own speed instead of being confined to the slower pace of the entire group. It reminded me of how much I love skiing down the slope at breakneck speed, trying to dodge slower skiers while narrowly avoiding a violent death. Man I miss skiing. Anyway, speed and danger would have helped but it was still a great day on the mountain.

Movie: The Mist

I just saw the movie The Mist, and you can count me among those who love it. Based on a (long) short story by Stephen King, it is a tense story of what happens to us when fear and self destruction collide; when we become afraid of fear. The power comes from the constant intense fear that is felt by everyone in the film, as well as in the theater. As the story unfolds you can't help but get drawn in and start guessing as to what is happening, and what will happen. You'll probably be wrong.

The original story was left unresolved, as a lot of King's short stories are. Many of them are just ideas that pop into his head which he then throws at the wall, and sometimes they only stick for a few minutes - not long enough to warrant its own book, but intriguing enough to put onto paper. This is one of those stories. So if it was to be made into a movie, it was going to need an ending.

Despite having countless bestsellers to his credit, relatively few of King's stories or books come close to matching that success when made into movies. The person who developed this screenplay basically took the original story and gave it a twist from his own dark mind, and the result impressed even King. In the end it reminds of the Twilight Zone episode where the residents of a small town neighborhood experience a power outage, and they resort to panic and finger-pointing when faced with the unknown. Add a major religious edge, and you've got the makings of a tense but still believable (or at least imaginable) path towards a complete breakdown.

Many times after seeing a movie, you get in the car and start talking about what's for dinner, where you're going next, work tomorrow, etc etc. After seeing The Mist, when you get in the car you'll be talking about The Mist.

See this movie.