A TALE OF TWO SEASONS
WINTER
I found it very odd after meeting Ken Smith that we had not crossed paths at some point. We traced each other’s footsteps in the sand, maybe even rekindled the same glowing embers from campfires with the wave of a hat, and smiled at wood left piled up under a tree.
We moved in the same circles at different times, both spinning to the beat of nature’s drum.
I had heard Ken’s name mentioned a number of times over the years; campfire stories of a guy with a fishy wonder lust, someone with boots shoes and tires well worn, an older guy with a great grip on history and legend.
Social media was my first snippet of contact with Ken. It was a post on trout cod history in the Macquarie River. Ken had joined the conversation and straight away I was astounded with his knowledge and hold on history in the area. I could tell by his
