A few weeks ago I was soaking up the warm sunshine of south Florida.  Last week was gorgeous in Westport, Mass.  Now Homer, Alaska is gray, a little rainy, between 50 and 60 degrees, and daylight about 20 hours a day.  What the hell am I doing?  Oh, yeah...I'm in the hot spot for some summertime fishing. 
I'm out on the Spit.  A road runs like the long part of an exclamation mark from the south of town, past an abandoned pirate ship that a guy's turned into a sweet condo. 
Then the dot comes, a curious blob of shops, stores, bars, cafes, a live theatre featuring the "Vagina Monologues", (which, oddly, was the last thing playing when I left Key West), and shacks offering charter fishing and an assortment of the most amazing expeditions imaginable.  And boats, lots and lots of boats.  People wear their slickers all the time and drive exactly the speed limit.  It constantly feels like something really cool is going to happen any second.  I'm gonna give it a couple of weeks.