“You’re OK,” I told myself over and over again, a mantra more wish than fact. I was not OK, in fact. I was hanging off the side of a sheer slope with my terrified hands clutching an alder branch, bashing my toes into the crusty snow on my way to the top of a ridge on Mount Marathon. Turning around wasn’t an option, because if I looked down that 50-foot drop, I’d really be done in.

This Week’s Circular



An Outdoor View: When I went fishing

(Author’s note: This column, about springtime fishing for king salmon and halibut in Cook Inlet, first appeared in the Clarion on May 17, 2002. Dennis... Read more