Ahhh scenic Alaska. $60 worth of licenses, $100 worth of rods and painstakingly selected tackle, borrowed hip waders and we were prepared to go catch our limit and return to the homestead for beers and stories of conquest! Nope-- All of our National geographic training on Salmon running thicker than flies was abruptly shattered that morning, when we were informed-- That no... we were fishing for King Salmon... Which run sporadically... invisibly in small pods of 5 of 6. Except of course when they leap majestically above the surface of the brown water to playfully taunt tired, and undernurished idiots standing shin deep in glacial mud. We would thus spend the next week standing for roughly 10 hours a day, shoulder to shoulder, with our brethren in the mud. Thus the days were divided, up for 2 hrs before and after high tide. Followed by food, beers, and napping. Then a swift return for the next high tide 12 hours later. Followed by disappointment and the ubiquitous quest for somewhere still severing food at midnight.