Former rodeo rider Danny Adams II held securely to the boat’s bucking bow with a taut line wrapped twice around his fist as he barked the names of landmarks to guide his father at the wheel.
I watched with wide eyes as a number of blurry shapes came into focus and faded as quickly while the intrepid young Adams motioned with his free hand the directions his father should steer. Duck blinds didn’t become duck blinds in my vision until they were almost near enough to touch.
I strained in vain to see more clearly while I struggled to conceal my trepidation to my boat mates, but surely I was betrayed by my white-knuckled grip on the boat’s center console. Maybe they wouldn’t notice the fear in my eyes, mercifully masked by the tiny water droplets covering the lenses of my glasses.
Together the veteran Rockport guide and his namesake son skillfully steered their vintage Majek skiff onward, almost blindly, into the unknown. Actually, our course from Goose Island State Park into Aransas Bay that foggy November morning was mostly unknown only to me.