Tele Aadsen

writer - fisherman - listener

One hun­dred forty-nine.

That’s how many hours Cap’n J and I spent at the dock over the last 47 days of our sea­son. As if final­ly grasp­ing the fun­da­men­tal trick to mak­ing a liv­ing fish­ing – keep­ing your hooks in the water – we pushed our­selves to make the quick­est of turn­arounds this year.

As fish­er­men, this hard-charg­ing approach served us well.  As a writer, it wasn’t so good for me.

Mid­way through one of our last trips, I stood in the cock­pit wip­ing sea lice from a coho’s sup­ple body, my thoughts drift­ing like kelp torn free of the sea floor. I won­dered how Jen Pickett’s gill­net sea­son had gone, and if fall storms would trap her in Cor­do­va. What was going on for all of the Red Wheel­bar­row Writ­ers? How was Emi­ly hold­ing up, deal­ing with her mom’s Alzheimer’s? What beau­ti­ful bit of writ­ing was I miss­ing from Sift­ing the Grain, and what were Lisa W. Rosen­berg’s lat­est obser­va­tions on body image and identity?

Stand­ing in the place that makes me feel most in touch with myself and my sur­round­ings, I sud­den­ly real­ized how removed I’d become from others.

I write not only out of a desire to com­mu­ni­cate, but to con­nect. To engage in mean­ing­ful con­ver­sa­tions and forge rela­tion­ships. But all of Hooked’s sum­mer posts focused on how things were on the Ner­ka, pub­lished in a fren­zied scram­ble as we left town. (True sto­ry. More than once I clicked “pub­lish” as the dock lines were cut, cross­ing my fin­gers it would post before we lost the harbor’s ten­u­ous internet.)

Those 149 hours ashore didn’t include oppor­tu­ni­ties to respond to your com­ments, vis­it your blogs, cel­e­brate your recent suc­cess­es or wish you the best in hard­ships. Instead of the rec­i­p­ro­cal con­ver­sa­tion that’s the great beau­ty of blog­ging, I’m afraid Hooked has veered dan­ger­ous­ly close to becom­ing That Guy – the one loud­ly hold­ing court at a par­ty, dom­i­nat­ing all con­ver­sa­tion with his own self-absorbed mono­logues. No one enjoys get­ting stuck with that guy. I def­i­nite­ly don’t want Hooked to be that guy.

So, enough about Hooked. How are you? What’s your lat­est tri­umph or chal­lenge? Fel­low blog­gers, have you writ­ten a favorite post recent­ly that you’d be will­ing to link to here? Fish­er­folks, how did the sea­son treat you?  What are you doing next?

I’ve missed know­ing how you’re doing, buddies.

(Psstt…  Jen Karuza Schile, don’t you have a new e‑book to share? Proud of you for cre­at­ing a great resource for all of the shore-side heroes hold­ing fish­ing fam­i­lies togeth­er! And Robin Blue, con­grats on Nation­al Fisherman’s cov­er sto­ry on your fam­i­ly mak­ing the tran­si­tion from crew to cap­tain! Nick Rahaim, great Pacif­ic Fish­ing arti­cle on Xtra Tuf’s shod­dy sell-out to Chi­na – what are you work­ing on next?)

Also, Hooked gained some addi­tion­al read­ers recent­ly. Wel­come, new friends, and please say hel­lo if you’re so inclined. I’m glad you’re here.