Horatio Knailnot is a friend of mine from back in the way back, I first met years ago when I bought a pile of trout gear from him at midnight under the Alaskan Way Viaduct by Seattle’s waterfront. “I’m headed north,” was all he said as he wrapped a battered old glass spey rod in burlap coffee bag and took a drag off his roll-up smoke. He hopped a Burlington Northern grain car and figured he could make it to Smithers with some deduction and plastic liter “light traveler” of budget bourbon.

It had been a while, so when he called last week and needed safe quarter on another run to CDN (this time in more rock star mode to BC West lodge on the Dean River), I knew to expect two things: Coors and cigarettes. As it is, Horatio brought along a couple of more fixed address types: Zack Mertens of Idlewyld Flies and guide supreme Jeff “The Kid” Hickman, both hailing from Portland, OR. After a late night of the invariable andronomous ruminating, several cocktails, and the apex of a NW summer heat wave, all finally retired. But the Horatio epic is a running narrative and the next chapter is well worth reading on Zack’s damn fine blog: marinatedinawesomeness.com. Hot co-pilots and panic at the Vancouver Airport (YVR). Only Americans remove their shoes in security line.

Watch for more updates as Mr. Knailnot goes toxic-asset manager class on us and boards a Bell Jet Ranger in pursuit of summer steel.