It’s objectively not a good day for fishing, but you could never tell from the look on Betsy Bullard and Wesley Locke’s faces. It’s a muggy July morning, and Bullard, 65, and Locke, 28, sit perched on the sides of the skiff, completely unbothered by the less-than-ideal weather whirling around us. Sinister black clouds are piling up in the sky to our right and left, with the occasional lightning bolt reaching down to kiss the mangroves in the distance. Mother Nature is showing off her formidable side here in the farthest reaches of Everglades National Park. We’re launching from Flamingo Marina, the southernmost (accessible) point of the national park. As we load up the boat in preparation for a day of fly-fishing, Bullard and Locke are hoping that the influx of fresh water might make the tarpon happy. The dozens of manatees rolling in the marina like a Cajun crawfish boil seem to be.