As this is my first ever blog post on a dedicated site, I would like to extend a warm Hello and G’day to all who read these pages, and offer a bit of a background of myself and what brings to back to the keyboard and pen and paper.

The main thread of this blog and a key fiber to my yarn is offshore kayak fishing along Australia’s coast, although the outdoors through a variety of pursuits is something my heart requires regularly.

I left home for the Navy in 2012 and was fortunate enough to serve in Japan for the last three years of my six years of service. After leaving the Navy in 2018, I moved to Brisbane, Australia to study English and journalism. I’ve been incredibly fortunate in where I’ve been able to work and study in the past 10 years and I’ve seen amazing things. No matter where I went, however, I always found myself dreaming grabbing a rod and reel and searching for water. Moving back to the Midwest shortly after graduating, I quickly discovered that my passion for the ocean was something I couldn’t disregard any longer. I moved to the Gold Coast in January 2025 and enrolled in Bond University, and I am currently pursuing a Masters of Communication. The ocean and my mates have already welcomed me back with sun, good fishing and a camaraderie I was in dire need of rekindling – niche pursuits involving dangerous conditions often result in close friendships seldom found in plainer settings.

I’ve always had a keen passion for anything outdoors. Growing up in Minnesota I was immersed in nature and wildlife whether I liked it or not — and how could you not like it (mosquitos and ticks notwithstanding). I enjoyed school as a kid, but as the bus would rumble and tick down the gravel road towards a day of fluorescent lights and dry erase boards, I would enter a daydream of being outside that lasted until the final bell rung away the last minutes of the day. Since I can remember, the call to be outside has been unceasing and I have had no choice ever since but to relent and follow it.

Throughout my life growing up in Minnesota, I’ve followed my passions through the wetlands and gullied oak prairies of lake country on missions to harvest turkeys, trout, deer, ducks and pheasants for our families larder. Although not a fish story per se, I’d like to share a short story with you detailing one of these pursuits. The following is the story that unfolded once I purchased my archery tag and dusted off arrows that hadn’t been loosed in nearly 10 years.

Episode 1: Arrival

It’s pitch black and dead cold as I crack the door of my parked 4runner and the first thing I hear is the primordial yet melodic song of sandhill cranes emanating from the frozen marsh just across the road.

As I encumber myself with all my gear, the straps of my new ground blind and turkey decoys bite into my neck and shoulders and I’m glad I’m wearing a woolen base layer — it’s about 25 degrees, but it’s still air, and I’m thankful for that. The gravel road I’m walking on will be more akin to a trough of freshly pumped concrete in a few weeks, but for now it’s frozen solid.

I elect to forgo the headlamp and use my memory of the terrain to find my chosen ambush site. Through years of early morning kayak launches to fish off the Australian coast, I discovered that a headlamp was a hindrance in the pounding surf; the human eye is an impressive structure and I found that as long as I gave it time to acclimate to the predawn black, the more attuned it became at judging waves and other hazards in the surf zone.

I thread my way off the road and onto an ancient wagon path, tripping over the odd bleach-white cow bone and skirting fresh cottonwood stumps that you could park a small car on. The line of ancient trees had been cleared in an effort to restore the native prairie on the parcel, and as the morning begins its gradual shift into an indescribable glowing palette, I can see that goal has clearly been achieved. I’m home, and I know why I came back.