March 2011.
Ascension Bay at Punta Allen, Mexico.
Four hour drive south from Cancun.

Roberto, shuttle bus driver.

Waiting for the water taxi.

C'mon sun.

Eagle-eyed Jose.

Eagle-eyed Jose's feet.

Richard's looking.

!Hola Bonefish!

Like a little shark.

Mangrove roots grow out,

and then up.

Richard Dickerson.

The beach.

Fishing host, Dave Stanley.

Cuzan manager, Lily.

Guide, Victor.

Everywhere.

Coconuts.

It's seen some action.

The dock.

Bangs.

Quiet.

Indeed.

Lasagna.

Capitan Tontin.

Floated,

for miles.

My palapa is the one in the middle.

s

El Pequeno Titanic.

Skeletor.

The Enticer.

The chillest dog in the world.

Juan Loco, soccer night.

Coconut crab.

Full moon.

The Tarpon.

Has a big mouth.

The Tarpon again.

Soon to be bait for handlining.

Jose astern.

Evan Firstman.

Dude. Dude. Tell the guide to stop smiling.

Hmm.

Snook!

Sea poop.

Evan + Snook = yummy ceviche.

He told me I had to...

My first Permit.

Gracias, Jose.

15 pounds.

Poof.

The Punta Allen Lavanderia.

Yellow.

He knows if the world is gonna end in 2012.

Bring your own shell.

Oops.

Buddies.

With decision by you.

Graahaahwww.

Hola.

Bwhaahahaa.

Leopard tongue.

Flipper.

Permit #2.

Kiss it...

Flying.

Later that day,

Juan Loco and Permit #3.

Life certainly is better with no shoes.