By Alex Holmes
Drifting sideways down the Eleven Point River, my bow pointed at a towering rock buff, and I dragged a lure through the water.
I saw ferns, mosses, and liverworts passing like a botanical carousel in front of me. I heard countless songbirds whistling and chirping.
And vultures and eagles kept watch from sun-blasted, bare treetops.
Each time I drifted too close, another turtle would reluctantly slide off its basking log into the cool water.
I caught plenty of fish that day, including my largest smallmouth bass ever, but those best catches often don’t come at the end of a line.
