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Last Thursday, Steve Hillman was grinding out, what he confessed was his second worst fishing day, guiding on Galveston Bay, this year. We only had five speckled trout in the boat and I believe four of them were caught by Hillman, himself. I personally, had had only one confirmed nibble all day and it was now pushing three in the afternoon. This wasn’t just a bad fishing day, it was awful. Leading up to this day, the fishing had been incredibly good. Just the day before, Hillman was forced to quit in late morning, because of thunder storm activity. Nevertheless his party was only two short of a limit, and two released, which were over twenty five inches. My last trip with him, we had limited out by one in the afternoon with some really nice trout and released several over twenty five inches.
Now, with no sign of a turn around, it was obviously time to lick our wounds and head for the dock. Hillman had already started powering his Boston Whaler up to running speed when he casually and I believe quit subconsciously exhibited a trait which I rarely witness in other human beings, but nevertheless am always amazed when I do. This trait transcends the activity. Over a life time, I have seen it displayed in combat soldiers, in plant workers, in doctors, in business owners, in football players, in astronauts, and I believe it has exhibited itself in just about every other human endeavor known to mankind, but only rarely, say, on the order of one in a million times. I don’t have a name for this trait but a brief description would be “relentless pursuit of perfection”.
Here again, I was about to witness this most rare of human traits in a fishing guide on Galveston Bay.
Standing at the wheel behind the center console, with the bow pointed for home, Hillman looked to his right. “I see a slick popping up”, he said. “Let’s give it one more try before quitting for the day”. Yet, no one got very excited, as he turned the boat to position himself where the fish would be, behind the slick. We had seen slicks popping up all day but the fish that made those slicks just weren’t biting anything we had to offer. Why should it be any different this time? Yet, it was. We started catching fish. Then, while working this slick, birds started working about 500 yards from us, so Hillman moved skillfully toward them. Everyone started hooking up with trout as we made casts under these birds. Now, in the last few minutes of our trip, I believe it is safe to say that everyone had more fun than they could have ever imagined just moments before. All this happened because one guide on Galveston Bay was in relentless pursuit of perfection.
Now, with no sign of a turn around, it was obviously time to lick our wounds and head for the dock. Hillman had already started powering his Boston Whaler up to running speed when he casually and I believe quit subconsciously exhibited a trait which I rarely witness in other human beings, but nevertheless am always amazed when I do. This trait transcends the activity. Over a life time, I have seen it displayed in combat soldiers, in plant workers, in doctors, in business owners, in football players, in astronauts, and I believe it has exhibited itself in just about every other human endeavor known to mankind, but only rarely, say, on the order of one in a million times. I don’t have a name for this trait but a brief description would be “relentless pursuit of perfection”.
Here again, I was about to witness this most rare of human traits in a fishing guide on Galveston Bay.
Standing at the wheel behind the center console, with the bow pointed for home, Hillman looked to his right. “I see a slick popping up”, he said. “Let’s give it one more try before quitting for the day”. Yet, no one got very excited, as he turned the boat to position himself where the fish would be, behind the slick. We had seen slicks popping up all day but the fish that made those slicks just weren’t biting anything we had to offer. Why should it be any different this time? Yet, it was. We started catching fish. Then, while working this slick, birds started working about 500 yards from us, so Hillman moved skillfully toward them. Everyone started hooking up with trout as we made casts under these birds. Now, in the last few minutes of our trip, I believe it is safe to say that everyone had more fun than they could have ever imagined just moments before. All this happened because one guide on Galveston Bay was in relentless pursuit of perfection.
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