Nobody wants to hear a fish story where you mumble something about reeling in a 32.1 pound King Salmon.

We want to hear the story of how the thing nearly killed you. How it tangled you up in the lines and pulled you over the edge of the boat. How you fought the thing for no fewer than 20 rain-drenched minutes, sweat and salt stinging your eyes. How your arms burned while getting battered with 8’ swells and 40MPH wind gusts. We want to hear the whiz of the line as the sea-beast makes a final desperate dash for survival.

In a good fish story, we want to see and hear the fisherman struggle to earn the prize of 32.1 pounds of fresh pink sushi meat. Let’s round that up to an even 33.

So this is a fish story.  There is a genuine effort to preserve some journalism and account for what occurred on the playa. But you will have to understand that the reality of this book filters through one lens—mine. Believe as much of it (or as little of it) as you please. To be fair, I did finally reel in that damn fish.

Mahalo,
—JKH