I have a rule at Marina State Beach. If there isn't a dead seal with a bloody wound washed up on shore, I don't paddle out. I figure Sydney (yeah, I
named the Great White that prowls these waters after Jennifer Garner's character on Alias) hasn't eaten yet. I don't want to be first on her plate this
evening or any other.
This fellow is one of the regular fisherman, the 'Sharkhunter'. He always
seems to have a leopard shark tucked away in his creel.
"That tastes good?" I ask him.
"All fish are good," he informs me with a disdainful glance.
Reminds me of my grandfather on my mother's side. Born in the Phillipines, he loved to make me recoil at the sight of tentacles
and seaweed boiling in a large pot, chiding me, "You don't know what's good."