Waterways are SC Lowcountry’s No. 1 asset, so why are you crashed on the sofa?

Have you ever had one of those “aha” moments when it comes to something that has been right there smack dab in your face all along?

I won’t go as far as saying this happens to me all the time, but every so often it happens and it is like I have had blinders on and in an instant, they are removed and a whole different world pops into view. Being an avid observer, my reaction is a mix between shock and awe. How in the world didn’t I see this before?

The latest “aha” moment occurred this past Thursday when I took a long-overdue fishing and exploring excursion that I had promised to Lydia Inglett, the publisher of the new high-end book, “Along Southern Roads,” in which I was included as one of four essay writers.

Quite the traveler dividing her time between England and the U.S., the timing for a day out on the water together simply never jibed, that is, until Thursday. A chilly winter day wouldn’t have been my first choice but the tides and weather were right and she didn’t hesitate one bit when I said, “Let’s go.”

Meeting up at my house in Bluffton around 8 a.m., it was darn right chilly. I had decided to take my 16-foot boat the “Marsh Monkey” because it can get into tight spots larger boats simply can’t get near. The downside is you are exposed to elements, particularly when running from spot to spot, and that chill can bite you big time when scooting along at 35 mph. Luckily, she had heeded my suggestion of layering up and, as I always say this time of year, “It’s better to have too many clothes than not enough.”

It wasn’t until we left the landing that I learned just how little time she had spent on our waters. As I told her later in the day, it always dumbfounds me just how many newcomers to the Lowcountry never take advantage of what I regard as this area’s No. 1 asset, the water.

If you read any of my columns with regularity then you may know that on a part-time basis I guide folks on their boats whether it be boat handling, navigating our tricky waters or fish, both inshore and offshore. For the most part, I do it simply because I want them to not only learn whatever it is they are asking me to teach them, but more importantly to respect and protect our unique estuaries. If I can get that point across, and nothing else, then I have done my job.

Lydia wanted it all. She had purchased a saltwater fishing license but also indicated she wanted a total Lowcountry experience. As any fisherman knows, catching is never guaranteed and because I had chosen tricky sheepshead as our quarry, the guarantee factor goes way down.

Catching sheepshead is an art form that takes practice. These striped bandits can strip the bait off a hook in a heartbeat and, unless you are paying close attention to the slightest tiny movement of your rod tip, they will leave you high and dry time and time again.

I am not sure if it was her wide-eyed enthusiasm or what, but within five minutes fishing she hooked into a beast of a sheepshead. She was like a 10-year-old girl at her first sleepover. She was amazed at the fish’s sheer power but once landed, was entranced at the beauty of the fish and, in particular, the slot along the sheepshead back that allows it to fold its dorsal fin into that slot and completely out of sight.

To catch one that size is unusual, but I lost count after a while. We kept enough for a couple of meals, releasing the rest.

From there I took her looking for artifacts. She found several pieces of Native American pottery, each with different designs on them. Then we went to an uninhabited island that had massive specimen live oaks. Over and over, she was just elated; “giddy” is a better description.

So what, might you ask, was my “aha” moment?

Upon watching her drive away with a bag of fillets, a camera full of images and a smile a mile wide, I realized that I should never, ever take this area for granted. Lydia thanked me over and over but I think I should be the one doing all the thanking. Aha!