I don’t fish much, I like the sport but the time between winning and losing gets the better of me more often than not. I did however see a couple of things I thought all fishermen would be interested in. Sitting contentedly, sipping an ice cold beer, taking in the sites of the east side of the island of Sal, I noticed a local man of about forty years old, (he could have been sixty as is the way of down here), walking over to fish in a small bay that is nearly always roughed up by the wind and waves.
He had, what looked like a beach rod, heavily laden with bait in four places. Being only half interested, I watched him cast into the turbulence