Wilderness Blues- Ramblings from the Great Land

     As I mentioned in my last post, I've got a picture of our new home. It's just the one photo, but it gives you an idea of what the place looks like. It's got a heated garage which is really nice. I've never had a garage before in my life, so I'm getting spoiled already. I've never had to pay property tax in my life before either, which is something I could do without, but since Jan and are considered "elderly" we get a break on our tax bill next year. This year we'll still pay through the nose though. Oh well. As you can see, I've got a rather long driveway, and we got some snow, which means a lot to shovel, but since I haven't done much other physical labor, keeping the driveway shoveled will provide me a little exercise. It will either make me stronger or kill me. I've included a picture of our good friend Marti Lee. This was taken back in Hoonah before we left. As you can see, there is a glow around her, which is not unexpected. ...

     I'm trying to do this blog post for the fourth time today. The first time I had something that I wanted, or at least I had a good start on it, when I hit the wrong key and got a message that asked me a question- do I want to do this or that. Hell, I don't know. The computer wanted a yes or no answer. What the heck, I had a 50/50 chance of getting it right, so I said yes. It wiped out all my work. Go figure. The next two tries I didn't like, so I wiped them out myself. So here I am, I've already eaten my supper and watched the last presidential debate. I've got my coffee here with me on the desk and I'm ready to go, but for reasons I can't comprehend, I'm typing faster than the words are showing up on the screen, so it's a hurry up and wait scenario. I feel like I'm back in the navy. Oh well, things could be worse.   The fellow in the top picture is my friend Bob Pinard. We met just over thirty-three years ago when he and his fa...

This is a picture of me with a bass that I caught on my trip south to Ohio. My friend, Bill Snyder, insists that the fish weighed in at an impressive four pounds, where as I was thinking it was hard pressed to make a pound, but what do I know? I don't want to sound vain, but I'm not used to catching such small fish. Don't get me wrong, it was a blast to be fishing in a still body of water and not have to look over your shoulder for Brown bears. We were guests at his sister and brother-in-law's farm pond and aside from the frigid wind and unseasonably cold temps, I was delighted to be there. Bill and I started the day at the Whetstone River near Mt. Gilead at a pool that I had some fond memories of. It had been over thirty years since I'd wet a line there and over the course of time the pool had shrunk and the gravel bank had grown up with brush and trees. Of course all that brush and overhang wasn't conducive to fly fishing, and Bill promptly got his fly caugh...