Every so often, once a month or thereabouts, I strap my kayak atop my car and head to the Carolina coast and the ocean.
Ostensibly it’s to fish. There is a reason, though, why they sell the ocean’s bounty in grocery stores; that’s where I slink in, empty-handed after a fruitless (fish less?) day on the water, to buy my redfish.
But there is something I do catch as I paddle along; plastic and polystyrene. That happened again this past weekend as I stalked fish in the intracoastal waterway adjacent to Charleston, South Carolina. Caught up in the reeds and muddy oyster beds and carried along by the tide are the predictable catch of soda bottles and snow white poly.
There’s plenty of storage on the Ocean Kayak (fish aren’t taking up any room) so I lash my sordid finds atop the aft deck and off I go again in search of fish. I’ve yet to bring a plastic bag with me since these trips are all about sport; I don’t think I’ll forget the next time.
If anything, it gives impetus to my daily walks 150 miles inland. Every piece of junk I collect is one less item that could wash down a storm drain and eventually end up bobbing up and down here. I’d rather not see junk floating about these otherwise annealing waters I find so soothing. I’m sure the fish would rather not see it, too.