Life at the condo was relaxed and companiable. Matt from BSA and his buddies Nick and Drew were staying there, and also Skip, a purveyor of the finest of flyfishing goods. Some of the younger guides were in and out. Matt kept the coffee pot going. With no external media running in the background, we sat around the table in the kitchen drinking coffee with whiskey chasers. Skip proved an accomplished storyteller, with a lot of stories to tell. He and I being the eldest of the group, the younger guys held back, mostly listening, while Skip and I carried on. We kept at it until everybody started to nod and left for bed. Then just Skip and I and the whiskey raved long into the night, raising the ghosts of people, events, and fish long past.