Klawock, Alaska – Don’t mistake the intention of the following column.
In no way am I attempting to brag about my lifestyle as a substitute teacher and afternoon angler because my life currently resembles a fresh out of college 20-something rather than someone who had a career for a decade and there’s a good part of me that’s craving stability.
But even if I were to again become part of the 40-plus hours a week crowd, I still could have fished 25 of the 28 days in February, on one tank of gas.
Where am I living?
And it’s not like I’m walking down to a desolate creek, casting twice at mutant sucker-fish then going home and declaring I fished. I’m not ambling down to the muddy ditch to noodle for catfish or sitting on a bucket staring at a bobber. I’m doing what people pay thousands of dollars to do – fish alone for steelhead, and actually catching them.
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