From the moment the first live shrimp hit the water, the morning was a non-stop blur of screaming reels and bent rods. We bypassed the slow drift and went straight into a feeding frenzy along the oyster bars, where aggressive bull reds were waiting in the shadows. Over the four-hour stretch, there was hardly time to grab a drink; as soon as one fish was netted and released, another was already peeling drag. The salt spray and the thrill of the "thump" on the line kept the energy high until the final cast, leaving us with sore arms and a cooler full of stories.