Did I mention Katrina? Of course I did. The devastation in New Orleans forced the Coast Guard move their Regional Exam Center to Memphis. Average wait time was now twelve weeks to receive the actual OUPV license that would legally open the door to planned adventures with a paycheck. Our cash flow was ebbing like low tide after a strong cold front, but we fished and fished and didn’t waver in our commitment.

    The USCG wait continued. We solicited the help of our friend in Washington, the Honorable Richard Baker. With his help, the Coast Guard kicked it into high gear and finally issued my license. (He has my vote for as many years as he wants!)

     Friends lent their support, Mark launched our web site.  My close friend, Chuck, gave us our first fishing shirts with our logo  and our friends at Journey South filmed a TV show in April featuring us bass fishing in our kayaks. We continued to load up kayaks and go costal every weekend.

Now with the boat complete, the weight of the impending first launch made us feel like the men in NASA’s mission control center:  nervous but excited, knowing that a whole new world of opportunities lie before us. We reached Mark’s camp at Point Fourchon just after dark and unhitched the boat. We would have to wait until morning.  Our friends and Mark’s family treated us to boiled shrimp, crabs and cold beer that night, but like a kids the night before Christmas, there was a nervous tension in the air.  We both wondered what the next morning would bring.  We headed off to Camp Kayak at Grand Isle to crash for the night. Camp Kayak is a great place to relax. It is located on a rocky point that juts out into Caminada Bay behind Grand Isle.  That night we sat on the dock at Camp Kayak and watched the shrimp boats working the waters of Caminada Pass and wondered if the specs that worked the marsh grass behind the island were biting. I laid in bed that night and realized that we had chased a dream as hard as we could and tomorrow would be either another hurdle or a huge success.

     Five a.m. came quickly, but we were up and headed back to Fouchon to put the final touches on the boat: the registration numbers, fill up the gas tank, bolt on the stanchions that we designed to hold the Kayaks on the deck and finally hook her back up to the truck to head for the dock.

   A few minutes later she slipped off the trailer into the saltwater and we were headed toward Belle Pass. She ran like a dream.  We barely felt the boat wakes beneath us. We dropped anchor a few minutes later in the back of a deep canal filled with green clear water and launched our kayaks. Within, minutes Mark had found a school of small trout. I watched our boat, the “Calmwater” floating at anchor and knew at that moment we were on to something people would really enjoy.

     The urge to explore was too much. We paddled back to the boat and loaded the kayaks over the bow.  It was a “piece of cake,” just like we designed it.  Fifteen minutes later we slipped into Devils Bay. Gulls were diving into a noticeable school of shrimp.  We flanked the activity and headed up wind. The anchor bit into the bottom and we slid the “yaks” off the side and drifted down into the fish. The stealth of the kayaks put us right on top of the action. Shrimp jumped for their lives and trout gorged themselves.  Birds were dive bombing all around us and I realized my dream was becoming a reality. Soon we would be able to share this with others, many others.

     We were fishing catch and release so I couldn’t begin to count how many trout we caught. We climbed back on the boat and headed up the Bayou Lafourche toward Leeville. We took a left and entered Little Lake. Six boats were fishing the points on the near side of the lake so we eased over to a group of three islands. The small islands were really like little keys. They were covered with mangroves and were formed from shell. Oysters littered the bottom and it just felt fishy.  Once anchored, we began the ritual again. This time a large redfish engulfed Mark’s stingray grub and he was off on a redfish sleigh ride.  I watched as the red moved from island to island with Mark in tow.  I lost sight of him as he rounded the bend of one little key. At that moment a redfish nailed my plastic and I enjoyed yet another encounter. Three casts later I hooked a nice speck and after twenty more casts I landed a flounder. The tri-fecta was complete.