There's a certain kind of person who doesn't choose fishing so much as get chosen by it. Austin "Ace" Young was probably still in diapers the first time it happened. His grandparents' place in Safford, Arizona, sat on land they irrigated with river water, and when the water came through, so did the minnows. Ace was right behind them. By five he was working the pond out back for catfish and sunfish. Nobody pointed him toward it. He just went.
That pull never left. It just found bigger water.
He guides out of Charleston now, fly, spin, and jigging, inshore and out to about 25 miles offshore. He does some media work on the side. But when you ask him why he still does it, why he's built his whole life around being on the water, the answer isn't complicated. "The world is too crazy," he says, "and the outdoors is the only thing that makes sense." Some people take years to arrive at that kind of clarity. Ace seems like he was born with it.
The memory that defined him happened at Elephant Butte Lake. Family camping trip, fish on every cast, the kind of day that doesn't feel real until it's over. His dad was busy fighting one when he told Ace to reel his in. Ace had a spinnerbait dangling over the side of the boat, half paying attention, when a largemouth came up out of nowhere and just ate it. "It all happened in an instant," he says, "and it's a moment I'll never forget." You believe him.
About seven years ago he made the decision to guide full time. Before that he was doing what a lot of anglers do, working a day job, carving out whatever hours he could, trying to split the difference between family and the water and never fully satisfying either. Eventually something has to give. For Ace, the answer was to stop pretending the two lives were separate and find a way to make them one. He hasn't had trouble finding time to fish since.
What keeps him going out there isn't the numbers or the grip-and-grin. "The thing that drives me is the chase," he says, "and watching people enjoy something that I love." That second part is important. There's a specific satisfaction that comes from putting someone else onto a fish they've never caught, watching them go through something you went through yourself a long time ago. For Ace it never gets old.
The lesson the water gave him is a quiet one. Be patient. Pay attention to what's around you. For a man who has spent most of his life in motion, rod in hand, eyes on the surface, that's not a passive idea. It's a practice.
Two fish are still on the list: roosterfish on the fly and bonefish. If he could be anywhere tomorrow it would be New Zealand or Costa Rica. There's still a lot of water left to cover, and he doesn't seem like a man in any hurry to stop.
When the conversation turns to what he'd change about the fishery, his answer isn't about regulations or bag limits. It's simpler and harder than that. Stop developing the marsh. Slow it down at minimum. The wetlands are what make this place worth fishing, what make it worth anything, and they're going faster than most people want to reckon with. Ace is reckoning with it.
The quote that's stuck with him over the years is three words. Guide not God. For a man who has spent seven years leading people into some of the most beautiful water in the Lowcountry, it reads less like a reminder and more like a creed. Know what you are. Do it well. Let the water do the rest.
Sean Nguyen (@vin_nguyen)
1 comment
Austin is very passionate in what he dose and loves to share that passion with others.