Because I’m writing this ahead of time, by the time you read this I won’t be here.

The there where I’ll be, and am as you read this, is roughly 18.5 miles east northeast of downtown Seattle. It’ll take a plane, a train and automobiles to get where I’m going.

We’re on day two of our visit with the folks who raised us and the brother who bothered us, and his family. Tomorrow starts at oh-dark-thirty to chase Oncorhynchus tshawy in Puget Sound with dad, bro and friends. It ain’t Alaska, but a beer budget limits the distance we can travel; but it should be fun.

Sunday is open to possibilities. One hope is that thanks to imposing on the generosity of former strangers, there might be some learning on local waters. Maybe some Snoqualmie trout.

Monday morning will find us on the way to unfamiliar waters with dad and fishing guide Derek, with hopes for a day made up of more than a few firsts. A first fly fishing float on the Yakima River for both of us. The first fly fishing at all for dad. Our first gourmet shore lunch. (No pressure, Derek.) If all goes well, a first Yakima River cutthroat for me; dad, too.

In between there are no great plans, more of a continuation of a previous visit with relations, young and old. (I’m beginning to believe that long-distance relatives you want to see should be seen at a frequency no less than three months and no greater than eight months.)

It’s pretty certain that beer and good food will figure into things.

Happy summertime, y’all.