Unlike most officially designated “Bike Parks,” Fire Mountain is a do-it-yourself affair. There is no chairlift or shuttle service; reaching the top requires two miles of uphill pedaling and, if you’re not in top shape, some occasional pushing.
His brown rubber apron is covered with a healthy coat of slime, scales and blood. His gloves too. The whole place stinks of dead fish. But any notion of that being a bad thing is lost on Jim Lyons.
Hundreds of boats cut through the waters of Hampton Roads on any given day, especially when summer comes around. Cruisers, sailboats and fishing boats aplenty: They all make the thousands of square miles of local waters their playground.
With the stealth of a ninja, Kevin Whitley eased the kayak between two pilings in the middle of the Chesapeake Bay Bridge-Tunnel. He dropped the bait straight down. Instantly the fiddler crab was thumped by a big sheepshead, and the tug-of-war was on.
It’s the spark in their eyes that gets to Annabelle Wax. When the wind fills the sails and the boat pushes forward, water laps at the hull and splashes the children. The look they give is pure excitement.
There is a brief moment of chaos onboard the Backlash, a game fishing boat based in Virginia Beach, as a school of tuna slash through the bait spread.