What happens when you gather an eclectic gang of bug slingers on a desolate beach outside the reach of cell signals and wifi connections (but not park rangers) for a camping and fishing excursion? Fish are caught. Alcohol is consumed. Lies are told. And live music is played around a lantern, our makeshift campfire, due to a burn ban in effect because of the historic Texas drought. We traveled from all over the state with our kayaks, canoes, and skiffs in tow to partake in the festivities. Why? To get away from the everyday grind and hang out with people who share the passion of flinging feather-clad hooks at creatures that swim. If you’re still wondering what the answer to the opening question is quit thinking and watch the flick. I'll let the imagery and sound speak for itself.

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