I’ve always been optimistic, when it comes to fishing. Note the strike indicator on an early Tenkara rig.

I don’t really care what color your collar is. Most people I know don’t wear shirts with collars.

This site is for folks who walk a beat or ride a truck; for people who sometimes end the day with grease or paint under their fingernails; for the ones who do the heavy lifting or practice a craft. For healers, builders, growers and teachers. For office workers who endure the mental grind of cubicles and spreadsheets and code to provide for their families. For the men and women who swear an oath to protect ours.

Mostly its for those of us who have to fish for the sake of our mental health or spiritual solace. No gospel here, though;  just one redneck’s attempt to hack an ancient sport that at times seems hell-bent on denying newcomers.

Me? I’m just a guy who really likes to fish — needs to fish — and who sometimes writes about fishing.

When I’m not fishing or hanging out with the family in Georgetown, just north of Austin, Texas, I’m driving a tugboat down around Corpus Christi. I work 54 regular (40-hour) work weeks in just 183 days each year. I push and pull on ships sitting atop 6,000 turbocharged horses. I do a lot of paperwork. Sometimes I end the day with paint or grease under my fingernails.

In a previous life I was a journalist and a PR flack; I wrote for a daily newspaper, several outdoor magazines, and spent four years as the news editor at the Texas Parks & Wildlife Department. Before that, I was a soldier, and young.

I love Jesus, but I cuss a little. And smoke. And drink some whiskey.

Follow me on Instagram @texasaaron.

You can read about some of my adventures at sea here: Crewboat Chronicles.

Earlier stuff, including my experiences during and after Hurricane Ike and general ruminations on water and wildlife here: Water Wilderness.