[Grant]

I can relate. I had a similar run-in just the other day.

I loaded the boat with fishing gear and shoved off @ 5:42 the other morning. No sooner had the bow cleared the front of the boathouse when I saw them -- a Boston Whaler brimming with Papparazzi -- headed in my direction at warp speed with shutters blazing.

I pulled my hat down low, stuck out my gut and slouched -- hoping to throw them off, but to no avail. The 750mm zoom lens tells no lies, and they were onto me.

"Grant! Grant! What's the latest with Lindsay Lohan?!?!?"
"Is it true you are the reason behind the Brangelina split?!?!?"
"Was that Mitt's car leaving your driveway last night? Is it true he's asked you to be his running mate?"
"How's the olive oil-powered SUV coming along?"
"Any comments on that 8 pound largemouth you landed?"
"When's the next movie?"
"How's the book coming along? We heard advanced sales have already trumped ALL the Harry Potters!"
"Has the French president invited you to cook for his family?"

So many questions at such an early hour! And all I wanted to do was throw a jitterbug toward #59 and watch the bronzebacks strike.

Swinging into action, I jammed the throttle toward the floor and headed toward the corner of Black Island for cover. The photo flotilla was hard-pressed to keep pace, and afforded me a moment to devise a plan. I donned the wetsuit, slipped into my BC and pulled on the mask and fins. Killing the engine and dropping anchor, I cast my line and propped the trusty Ugly Stick. Sliding over the port side, I quickly submerged, took a WSW heading and began swimming for the cove. Beneath the surface, I could hear the Paparrazzi Whaler's prop as the vessel rounded the point and closed in on my anchored boat.

The Whaler circled for a few minutes, then left -- the menacing lens weenies obviously frustrated that I'd again foiled their stalking. Laughing maniacally into my regulator, I pictured the puzzled paps scratching their noggins and wondering what had become of their target.

Slowly finning back toward the boat on a reciprocal ENE heading, I came across a cache of Prohibition-era rum bottles previously believed to have been lost off of Rum Point, along with several clay pipes, 200 year-old earthenware, and some rare bottles. Surfacing slowly, I scanned the brightening horizon for any sign of the intrepid shutterbugs. Satisfied that they'd been vanquished, I climbed back on board, toweled off, and began a nice slow retrieval of the jitterbug, which had drifted toward the deep rocks near the black-and-white buoy off the point.

I retrieved the cast, which landed another 8 pounder (imagine that!) decided to practice 'catch and fillet,' and headed home to treat the family to a glorious breakfast of grilled bass topped with a nice habanero corn salsa.