It’s an early fall morning, and Pat Avila is watching the sun crack over New Bedford Harbor from the passenger seat of his car. His trunk is loaded with a neon-yellow laundry sack for his foul-weather gear and a camo duffle holding everything else he might need on a fishing trip lasting anywhere between two days and two weeks. Route 18 commuters aren’t yet on the road, and the waterfront is just beginning to stir.