Around this time the weather decided, as commonly
occurs, that meteorologists had no business telling it
what to do. The lights went out, and a storm front
loomed menacingly on the horizon. "Scattered
showers" was soon to become an understatement,
but the platforms remained occupied and the hunt
for permit stubbornly continued. The first flat yielded
sharks, rays, and plenty of baitfish, but permit
sightings were limited to maybes and a single
spooked fish that appeared out of nowhere. The next
two spots yielded very similar results. Lee got a
single shot at a permit before it casually decided it
had no interest in us or our flies, but overall the
weather had dealt us a very poor hand. The
exclamation point for that fact came in the form of
the crackle of electricity at the top of the metal-
tipped push pole. This method was certainly more
effective than bringing the lights up at the bar at the
end of the night. Weathering rain and wind is one
thing. The push pole doing its best Tesla coil
impression, on the other hand, is a solid reason to
head for a late lunch and cold drinks. We reeled up
and raced away from the storms toward the marina.
Maybe that first cast fish had something to do with it, maybe somebody's rain dance came with a rain check. I probably just need to spend more time in the Keys; more time on the bows of skiffs; more time squinting at shadows coursing through skinny, salty water; more time practicing. Nevertheless, until the next time I'll be scanning Craigslist for affordable exorcisms. Maybe my luck will change and I'll find some permit in the "Missed Connections" along the way.