In the autumn of 2001, I gave myself an enviable assignment. I hit the road for four months to follow the fall migration of the striped bass from Maine to North Carolina. The migration is a natural spectacle (and a fisherman’s dream), as tens of millions ofto meet with along the way. Soon I was setting my alarm clock to the rhythm of the tides and the pulse of the bite.
Asheville Calling
May 17, 2021
2 minutes
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