SUMMER.
Were subsequently sent on our way by some savvy float planes.
Arrived at our hideway and proceeded to look for some booty.
Oh, look. Someone caught a little fishy.
Mark in his "mincing pansy" oh gosh... is that a fish!? [wristflip] mode.
He got over it.
Michaelin getin'er did. Absolutely impressed by the situation.
Somewhat slimier than anticipated. That fish smell follows one around for days on end coming to the foreat the most awkward of times.
50lbs of fish later what are you gonna do?
Cook it. Eat. It.
Looks really good. It was in fact really good.
Someone got wet fish butt. Sat on some fishy gutty gloves. Sat next to the fire. Scandalous fish jokes were hard not to make.
Dave. Boatowner. Fisherman. Loungelizard supreme.
Give it a day of miserable work interlude and find us all in heaven at the beach in 20+ weather, which is as warm as you can ask for. I spent the weekend trying to even out my sunburn.
Some peeps soaking sun as I do.