Among my favorite relatives were my Aunt Nola and Uncle Kenny Cook and their son Jerry, who was my age. The Cooks lived in beautiful Portland, Ore., and I deep within the arid bosom of the northern Great Plains. Kenny and Jerry were salmon fishermen and talked about it constantly. I had hardly ever been close to an ocean (salt …
Picks, ticks, and sidekicks
Many years ago, driven by my overpowering hunger for outdoor stuff, I took a job with a little newspaper in Worland, Wyoming. After getting settled, there was not a weekend went by when I wasn’t chasing around the Bighorn Mountains or the Big Horn Basin with a fishing pole, rifle or shotgun — sometimes all three. One early summer Saturday, …
Sitka: We found a silver lining
(Part III of a six-part series on travel to Southeast Alaska) In Sitka, we didn’t have any friends to impose upon, so we were forced to find commercial lodging. It was a daunting task, seeing as how we failed to note that our time there coincided with the world renowned Sitka Summer Music Festival. Members of the lodging establishment were …