Tele Aadsen

writer - fisherman - listener

Losing People, Compass in Hand

I’m hold­ing a bat­tered met­al com­pass in my hand tonight. It says my writ­ing desk faces south­west, and that the cat curls her tail north­ward. It doesn’t say which direc­tion skirts despair, doesn’t guide the path toward hope. Fold­ing it closed,...

Enduring Burning: Alaska Walks for Life

No hal­ibut on deck here… Con­sis­tent storms have teth­ered us to the dock for two weeks, wait­ing out weath­er like 45 knot winds and 22-foot seas. We take it for what it is – what else can you do? – but watch­ing steady gray sheets pour­ing down the cab­in win­dows...