Two Washington Post Reporters Head To Alaska To Find Romance

We Went From DC To Alaska To Find Romance

The fishermen descend almost before we even make it through the door of the rattletrap bar. They beg us for a game of pool, conversation, anything. The bearded guys hunched over their beers rivet their eyes on us. There's a guitarist at the open mike who, as soon as he spots Annie, stops strumming and says, "I'm dedicating this song to you."

A fisherman with scraggly hair plants himself in front of me and launches into his life story. Once he shot a man. He's about to leave on a fishing boat that will be away from port for three months. The string of whale teeth around his neck is from a whale that was hunted and killed by his late wife.

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