Alaskan Fly Fishing Adventure with The Great Katzby

By Richard Chiappone

My father always said, “Vic, remember that most people in this world haven’t enjoyed the fishing opportunities you’ve had.” I need to remind myself of that all the time here at Anchor Point, my Alaskan home each summer for the past three years. So when JJ Katz, my neighbor from down the road, roars into the drive on his four-wheeler to ask if he can borrow my waders, I say, “Sure. I’ll grab them for you.”

Katz is a walking guide on the Anchor River and one of the few locals who has welcomed me here. I think he has a thing about the wealthy. He’s impressed that I own homes in two far-flung states. I’ve conveniently failed to mention that my good fortune was more a matter of luck, privilege, and my father’s canny business sense than any smart moves on my part. Meaning that, aside from the top-of-the-line waders I’m lending him, I inherited almost everything I own.

Does a Pair of Waders Make the Guide?

“Yours leaking bad or something?” I ask. Katz fishes all summer long in ancient brown neoprene’s with enough patches to enter them in a quilt show.

“No, no,” he says. “They’re fine. I just want to show up in a better-looking pair for these new clients, Dawg.” Everybody is Dawg to Katz. Or Homes. “There are times when appearances matter in my line of work,” he says. He’s absolutely serious.

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