My Personal Guiding Origins
In my early 20s, I worked part-time at a tackle shop in Abbotsford, British Columbia. I wasn’t there for the paycheque, rather for the hefty discount on expensive gear and fly-tying materials. I ran a tab with the shop owner and paid back my debt on weekend shifts, selling bouncing betties to salmon fishermen on their way to the Fraser River.
My “real job,” cocktail waitressing at a nearby casino, had me walking the tacky carpet between blackjack tables, poker rooms and slots, selling drinks to thirsty gamblers. I knew most of the late night players by name, or at least the names we called them. The 8:30 p.m. to 4:30 a.m. shifts fit my fishing addiction. I hustled the poker room by night, learned my fishery by day, and worked two days a week at the shop to build up my collection of flies and equipment.
Days at the shop introduced me to the industry of fishing. Reps, guides and crusty legends leaned against the countertop for hours at a time, telling stories of difficult clients and ass-kicking fish. Word spread that the young girl who fished by herself was now working at the shop.
When an outfitter tracked me down to offer a guiding job, I accepted.
My first year was anything but smooth. I guided sturgeon and salmon on the Fraser and Harrison rivers; both required me to run a jet boat. I had no clue how to run a jet boat. My new boss gave me a quick rundown on how to operate his North River, and I did my best to navigate the busy boat launch amidst dozens of other scrambling guides. I stuck out like dog’s balls with my bright blonde hair and casino manicure, eyes bagged out from working the night before. I kept up the charade for as long as a 20-something can, but soon cut down my casino hours to accommodate the guiding schedule. It was seasonal work, so I gave away the majority of my summertime waitressing shifts and powered through the hectic months.
I was a lousy sturgeon guide. No amount of experience could fix that, mainly because I just didn’t like it. The salmon guiding kept me engaged, but I fell in love with the walk-and-wade winter steelhead trips. Without the need for a boat, I applied for a guide license and insurance, opting to guide for my own company, Fly Gal Ventures, instead. The transition meant fewer bookings and a pissed off employer, but remains one of the best decisions I ever made.
Today, people looking to follow a similar career path contact me regularly. In fact, it’s probably the most common email I receive.
“I want to leave my job to become a full-time fishing guide. Should I do it?”
There’s no easy answer. I usually refer people to my podcast and the stories from my guests. Over 100 episodes of Anchored outline the trajectories of some of the industry’s most influential players—accounts of how they “made it,” their lives before entering the outdoor industry, their struggles along the way and where they are today.
When pressed, I share the story of my own journey from cocktail waitress to full-time guide, but stress that each person and scenario have their own variables. I was a female angler at a time when there were very few women in the industry (a trait that had its fair share of downfalls). I was also born and raised in British Columbia, home to some of the best, and best known, fisheries in the world. Then there was the timing aspect. I’d set out to pursue my career before social media existed and online marketing became the norm. By the time the internet became available on phones, I’d already decided on my career path. It was a good time to be young, ambitious and hungry to make a living doing something I loved.
To be successful in any field demands mastery of craft. With that in mind, I skipped school, family gatherings, parties and work to gain a thorough understanding of my local rivers. I hurt feelings, lost friends, neglected boyfriends and jeopardized jobs.
I even dropped out of college. It’s important to mention this because, today, as a mother and woman who likes to know where my next paycheque is coming from, I don’t know if I’d make the same sacrifices I did back then.
Today, I’m going to address the numerous factors any aspiring guide should consider, from financial security to personality. This article will offer unvarnished insights into what it’s really like to guide professionally: the glorious, the awful, the unexpected and the ridiculous. I talked to friends and guides around the world to present a diversity of perspectives.
Financial Realities
It’s easy to assume that fishing guides make more money than they actually do. Multiplying an outfitter’s $500 per day rate by a vague estimate of “guidable days” each year can lead aspiring guides to imagine themselves getting rich by taking people fishing. In reality, few guides make a comfortable living. Most people who make their living in this profession prioritize quality of life over wealth.
Hilary Hutcheson, a guide and fly shop owner out of Columbia Falls, Montana, started guiding as a teenager and has spent the last 20 years figuring out which lifestyle best suits her and her family. “I’ve learned that if something is going to fall to shit, it’s going to fall to shit—and the more you have, the more you’ll lose. I continue to guide because what it lacks in financial security it makes up in spiritual security.”
Over the years, Hilary worked as a news anchor and reporter, but ultimately returned to the fishing industry despite its instability. “As a guide, money is always tight, but I don’t have the tightness in my chest that I felt when I left guiding for higher-paying careers.”
Hilary is a mother of two, but when she first started guiding she was young and single. Such independence is common among new guides—no dependents, modest income, obsessed with fishing and rarely home. It’s far easier for an untethered young person to embrace the nomadic and unstable life of a fishing guide than someone who has a family. Full-time guides often need to travel between fisheries, absent from home and family for lengthy periods of time.
Jordan Romney, a guide in Northern California, grappled with this dilemma. “Around my fifth year of guiding, I had some hang ups in dealing with the uncertainties of it.”
Jordan knew he wanted stability in his life and, ultimately, a family. He wondered if those goals were compatible with the guiding lifestyle. “I noticed the high majority of divorced guides and it scared me.”
He faced a conundrum familiar to most long-term fishing guides—give up the work they love and settle into the security and stability of a “real job,” or continue scratching out a living through the unpredictability and the stress on his home life. “I chose the latter, and part of that choice was deciding that I could never look back.”
Jordan and his wife find 200-225 days of guiding to be the right balance, but their schedule remains hectic. Jordan’s days start at 5 a.m. and finish at 6 p.m., leaving little time between shifts to do much beyond sleeping, packing lunches, tying flies and prepping for the next day. Last-minute bookings also strain family time. “The rug gets pulled out from camping trips and vacations to the beach with the family. But it’s nothing new, we have found ways to make it work. I wouldn’t be happy doing anything else.”
Forty-three-year-old guide Rob Kessler subscribes to the traveling guide lifestyle. He’s guided in Montana for 19 years where the fishing, and therefore the work, is seasonal. To make ends meet, he’s guided for the past nine years in Key West, Florida. The travel keeps him away from his wife for five months a year. “I always miss her and our dog, but when we’re together we aren’t living paycheque to paycheque, we’re able to take some nice (non-fishing) vacations.”
Rob is the exception. The vast majority of guides do live paycheque to paycheque. Brant Oswald, experienced guide and guide school instructor, has seen this firsthand. A protege of Mel Krieger, Brant started guiding in the 1980s and has witnessed the unraveling of many newcomers who expected the guiding game to be easy.
“They guide for a while, don’t get as many trips as they thought they would and find the winters can stretch a summer of guide income pretty thin—especially when they spent most of their tip money in the bar every night. For some of those guides, the actuality of the guide life can be a big disappointment, and they often burn out early.”
Lodges, shops and outfitters take a significant cut of daily guide fees (anywhere from 40 to 60 percent). That cut is justified—outfitters pay for marketing, credit card fees, pre-trip arrangements and other costly overhead—but many full-time guides work as independent contractors, leaving them responsible for trip and business expenses.
Jordan estimates his annual fuel cost at $9,000. “Now add [guide] licenses, insurances [liability and health], lunches, tackle, ice, drinks, etc. I like to say this is my get-rich-slow scheme. My wife and I joke that we are ‘hippy rich.’”
Though many guides appreciate the quality of their lifestyle, they still have bills to pay and mouths to feed. The average trout guide brings home around $40,000 a year, and while there are a select few who can make six-figure incomes, they’re exceptions within the industry or are guiding fisheries that charge a hefty daily rate.
Guides do make decent tips, and those tips can bolster low wages. An Alaskan guide working through the summer may earn less than $100 a day, equating to only $6 or $7 per hour, so tips help to carry them through the season. That said, not every culture believes in tipping and not every client shares their guide’s perspective on what constitutes a good or even reasonable tip, so it’s not exactly reliable income.
One final but important topic when considering the financial realities of guiding is retirement. Most of the guides I spoke with don’t have a long-term plan in mind—they don’t even want to think about it. Jordan Romney summed up many fishing guides’ perspective on retirement planning. “This is something I have pushed out of my mind and try to never think about. I really do not have a plan.”
Sean Blaine, a 50-year-old guide in Montana, is realistic about his future. “I have managed to put some savings away over the years, but in all honesty, it’s not going to be enough for retirement.”
Josh Zeigler, a young upstart guide, has no illusions about his future. “When I was like 17 and working in a fly shop, I asked the owner if there was a retirement plan for fishing guides. He turned and said one word: ‘death.’”
In all my digging and interviews, I didn’t find a single outfitter or lodge that currently offers retirement or health care benefits for guides.
While most guides earn blue-collar wages, lack healthcare and retirement benefits, and have no idea how much money they’ll make in a given year, they are quick to point out that they’re happy and thankful they followed their hearts to the river. Guiding can be a rich and fulfilling career, but anyone considering this path needs to be aware of its instability: sick days, cancellations, inclement weather, fishery closures, and vehicle and boat breakdowns are ever-present specters that can ruin a season and a bank account.
If financial instability and future uncertainty are worth the risk, the next thing an aspiring guide needs to consider are the qualities that make up a good guide. In the next section, I take a closer look at some of the personality traits that contribute to a guide’s success. This is important because if you’re not good, you’re not booked—if you’re not booked, you’re out of business.
Qualities of a Good Guide
Guiding takes more than passion and skill for fishing. A talented angler understands fish. A talented guide understands fish and people. The latter tends to be more complicated than the former. Most clients expect to catch fish, or at least have opportunities, but not all measure a day’s success by body count. Many guests experience truly sublime appreciation for a fishing day through wildlife sightings, picturesque scenery, acquisition of new skills and camaraderie. More often than not, that appreciation and joy comes from the deft but subtle capacity of their guide to communicate effectively what needs to be done. She helps them achieve that sense of peace and satisfaction, regardless of how many times the net gets wet.
We’ve established that most guides don’t do this work for the money, and soon I’ll explain that they also don’t do it for their own fishing opportunities. Guides need to thrive on their interactions with people, and almost 100 percent of the guides I spoke with told me that their favourite aspect of the job is the relationships they forge with clients while shaping those people’s experiences on the water.
“We help people, not only to become better fishermen, but also to make their dreams come true,” said Jako Lucas, world-renowned fishing guide.
If you want to be counted among the ranks of elite fishing guides, you absolutely must be able to understand what’s in the client’s head. As John Gierach wrote, “the only thing a psychiatrist can do that a good guide can’t is write prescriptions.”
Amy Hazel, longtime guide and owner of the Deschutes Angler Fly Shop, shares that level of intimacy with certain return anglers. “These clients have become friends, and many have now become as close to us as family. Over the decades we have watched their kids grow from babies to teens to adults—we have celebrated together, and we have mourned together.”
Of the people I interviewed for this article, almost all of them had been consoled or even saved by a client-turned-friend. In fact, most guides have at least one story about a client who helped them through an emotional or financial hardship.
Such relationships don’t build themselves. While an excited client can set the morning up for success, a grumpy or unrealistic one can start the day off rocky. Good guides will read the expectations of their sports quickly and quietly respond as needed. Tense interactions will spoil a day on the water as fast as a poorly tied knot, and not all guests are experienced, skilled or likeable. A day on the water with someone who’s desperate to get a photo of a trophy fish makes for a stressful day, especially when the fish aren’t actively feeding or the angler’s expectations exceed their ability. A good guide knows how to diffuse tense situations—when to speak or be quiet, offer advice, or stop the madness with a beautiful shoreside lunch.
Experienced guides also learn to be selective about their clients. Second-generation Maine guide Ryan Brod explains, “The screening process is important to me, and at times I’ve made mistakes. I don’t have the mental make-up to tolerate eight or ten hours in the canoe with a jerk. I’ve gotten better at phone screening, to the point where I’m only fishing anglers I truly enjoy being around.”
While selectivity can be the key to a career guide’s happiness, not all guides have the luxury to pick and choose their clients. Novice guides usually start out working for a fly shop, outfitter or lodge, and they have absolutely no choice about who they take fishing on a given day. “Back when I was getting started, I had to endure all kinds of abuse,” said former Alaska and Montana guide Miles Nolte. “I’ve heard more racist and sexist and generally offensive shit while guiding than at any other time in my life. I once had a guy threaten to commandeer my boat if we didn’t start catching more fish.”
Much of a guide’s ability to handle a season’s highs and lows depends on their capacity to remain cool under pressure and scrutiny. A mature guide won’t internalize petty slights, whereas a less-composed one may snap without thinking through the long-term implications of their reaction. Seasons are short and can require months-long stretches of work without a day off. These stretches can wear down even the most tolerant guide. As small as the client pool is, word gets around when a guide behaves unprofessionally, so it’s important to understand that while guiding may be the right path to take, it may not be the best path right now. Prospective guides need to consider their ability to let obnoxious clients roll off their backs and not let a bad day or a bad interaction shake their confidence.
That confidence is central to guiding success. Guiding is, by nature, competitive, and guides who get too caught up in comparing themselves to their peers and colleagues are in for long, stressful seasons. California guide Jordan Romney spent his first few years competing and comparing himself to other guides. “Around the 3-year mark I started to realize that all these other guides I was competing against were now my buddies. My mentor, who has now passed on, taught me that I am only ever competing against myself.”
Beyond having a masterful understanding of the human psyche, guides must love being on the water all the time. Even serious anglers may underestimate the challenges of being out there day after day. That level of dedication requires a unique relationship with water. Ryan embraces that relationship. “It’s part of my identity. I’m motivated to spend as much time on waters I love as possible, and it’s nice sometimes to be compensated for it.”
Guides who love being on the water are rewarded with a knowledge of fisheries that few get to enjoy. “What keeps me going is the intimate relationship I form with the resource,” said second-year guide Josh Ziegler. “Feeling as though you understand something that is so dynamic and ever-changing is a neat experience.”
Developing a relationship with watersheds and the creatures within them is an integral part of guiding. It can take years to learn a fishery’s patterns and migrations. Clients expect that their guide has invested enough time to consistently find fish, but many factors remain beyond a guide’s control. Low returns, tricky fish, bad weather and high water drastically impact a guiding season. Guides who make it year after year have access to, and knowledge of, all the fishing options and waterways in their area, so if Plan A falls apart, they can move to B, C or D. That capacity and flexibility not only allows guides to find fish when conditions are tough, it helps prevent burnout and boredom.
Jordan guides a wide range of rivers throughout the fishing season in California. The constant relocation stokes his enthusiasm for guiding and problem solving. “When one area is wrapping up, a new one is starting. Things for me never get stale, and I don’t get burnt out on the same piece of water all year.”
As you expand your offerings to new fisheries, make sure that understanding includes local standards of conduct. Whether it be in a drift boat, walk and wading on shore or poling a flats boat, familiarize yourself with what is (and what isn’t) appropriate practice for guides and anglers before subjecting clients to uncomfortable situations.
Make sure to learn the universals of guiding etiquette, as well. For example, sometimes you will need to demonstrate what you want the client to do, but without actually hooking the fish. Few things are less professional than the guide catching a fish that her client is failing to catch. Remember that guiding is not fishing, a topic I’ll cover at length in the next section.
Guiding Isn’t Fishing
Some of the best “fishing bums” I know are the worst guides. They’re superstars with a rod in their own hands, but guides don’t hold rods—they hold tillers, push poles, oar grips or nets. The measure of a good guide isn’t if she can catch fish, it’s if she can get others with far less skill and knowledge than herself to catch fish. Many a passionate and talented angler has guided for a few seasons, only to quit because guiding “ruined fishing” for them. Those poor souls should have done some homework before jumping into this profession, because once they burn out on guiding they’ve not only lost their job, they’ve compromised their love for fishing as well.
Guide and instructor Brant Oswald taught schools with Mel Krieger and Orvis in the 1980s. Over the years Brant has seen many anglers come and go, most of whom believed that guiding would feed their fishing habit. “I see a lot of students who think guiding is just like going fishing with friends every day, except people pay you for it and you get your gear at a discount.”
California guide Jordan Romney had the same preconceived notion: “I thought I would get to go fishing a lot more. Instead, I am just around people who fish all the time.”
This is a common misconception of aspiring guides. Fishing guides don’t actually fish, at least the good ones don’t. Good guides know they’re paid to lead their clients to fish and then work with them to hook up. They understand that guiding is a selfless act—that they’re a director behind the curtain while the main act is on stage. Yet there are still some guides who believe it’s acceptable to make a cast when the fishing is hot, or when the client encourages it.
Guide and filmmaker Jako Lucas struggled with the temptation but always refrained from fishing while on the job. He guided for four years in the Seychelles before ever making a cast there. He swears this abstention focused him on guiding his clients within their own limitations rather than his own.
“Your client did not pay a lot of money to see his guide catch fish. As much as I’ve had clients tell me to make a cast, I’ve held back,” Jako said. “You never know when you’re going to get that fish of the week. Fishing with guests can turn ugly.”
The truth is that there’s never an appropriate time to fish while guiding. Even when the fishing is on fire, most clients want their guide to manage the boat, offer casting tips, land their fish, or just talk to them. There are times when a client chooses to fish alone in silence—but the last thing they want to hear is the splashing of a steelhead that their guide has just hooked behind them.
“When I first started guiding, one of my mentors told me this: There are three rules to guiding,” said former Alaska and Montana guide Miles Nolte. “Rule number one, don’t fish. Rule number two, seriously, don’t fish. Rule number three, when you break rules number one and two and hook the biggest fish of the day, make sure you break it off before the client sees it.”
The rule is unwritten but adopted by serious guides who know that fishing with guests usually results in a lose-lose situation. If a guide hooks a “client’s fish,” it comes across as a lost opportunity. If they don’t hook it, they run the risk of looking as if they lack the skills they’re trying to teach—or, worse, that the fish aren’t even there.
Another common misconception that aspiring guides carry is about the caliber of anglers they’ll generally be guiding. “I figured the people who hire guides are the people who have good skills and really want to learn the fishery in depth,” Jordan said. “In reality, it’s the opposite. I generally guide beginners who don’t really have a desire to get to know the fishery, they just want to get to know the fish in the fishery.”
When guiding beginners, it’s especially important to know how to communicate. “I recall wasting a lot of time trying to teach techniques that didn’t match up with a client’s skillset, or using an approach that wasn’t producing the results I wanted,” Brant said.
Too many tips and too much advice can frustrate and discourage clients, so a guide needs to choose her words wisely. Sometimes a demonstration is necessary for a visual learner, but a guide should never allow the hook to stay in the water long enough to catch a fish.
Aspiring guides should also consider the likelihood that they’ll outgrow their fishing obsession. Most anglers come out of the gate eager to spend all their time on the water, but this drive can fade over the years.
Montana guide Joshua Ziegler admits that there was a point in his life when he thought all that mattered was fly fishing. But family and other priorities eventually overtook his desire to spend every waking minute on the water.
“As I’ve gotten older, I’ve realized life is much more dynamic than that,” Joshua said. “If someone is out there aspiring to be a guide, they need to go through the trout bum phase—which is cool until you’re fifty and still, as Chris Farley would have said, living in a van down by the river!”
Many anglers progress from hardcore to relaxed observer at some point in their lives. A combination of age, experience and exposure all contribute to the softening. Before long, 5 a.m. starts get pushed to 8, lunch breaks are taken and self-benching occurs after enough fish have been caught.
Many people who decide to guide don’t realise that they may eventually grow away from the eat-sleep-breathe-fish mentality. It’s a welcomed evolution by most anglers but can be a dispiriting one for a full-time guide. Before someone decides to make the plunge into full-time guiding, they should be aware of the possibility of coming to dread a full day on the water. If they understand that their role is to pull strings from the catwalk rather than shine on stage, they’ll be much better prepared for a long and hard-earned guiding career.
“I used to want to fish all day, every day—it’s what got me into the business,” said traveling guide Rob Kessler. “Somewhere it changed, and now I enjoy watching people learn to cast and catch fish more than fishing myself.”
Responsibility to the Resource
Guides play a supporting role to the main act—pulling strings from the catwalk and taking a backseat to the accolades. But there could be no performance without a stage and its stagehands. The water and its fish set the scene for a glorious performance.
Choosing a resource-based vocation has drawbacks. A guide’s security relies on the presumption that rivers and the fish within them will be healthy enough to withstand an open fishing season. Mother Nature isn’t for hire and she doesn’t care about a guide’s financial comfort.
“The closure of the Yellowstone in 2016 due to the PKD [Proliferative Kidney Disease] outbreak was a wake-up call for all of us in the region,” recalls Montana guide Brant Oswald.
An ecological catastrophe, whether human caused or naturally occurring, or a shift in regulation has the potential to bankrupt businesses that depend on fishery health and angler cooperation. Such uncertainties intensify the significance of a guide’s relationship with the resource. While it’s almost impossible to predict most acute events that can depress or destroy a fishery, a guide can control much of their own impact by staying informed on policy and current threats.
Most anglers develop an intimate bond with nature before they start guiding. It’s likely this very relationship that persuaded them to start guiding in the first place. Brant sees it as a way to introduce guides and anglers to the more intricate aspects of the outdoors. “Spending time outside gives guides a chance to see so many things that most folks will never see. Guiding gives me a chance to show those things to a few of them.”
Guide Hilary Hutcheson takes it one step further: “I get to show my guests how to be the eyes, ears and voices that are so important in helping create policy that protects the resource.”
Hilary gave up her career as a news anchor to devote her life to the river and its health. She felt called to educate other passionate anglers about best practices for interacting with their cherished places. “I like being able to teach guests something new—especially if they want to learn more about climate change, public lands and how to become more comfortable being a steward of the land.”
A forward-thinking guide sees guests as potential teammates—future investors in the fishery. “Fly anglers tend to be optimists with an appreciation for nature and are often well educated,” said guide Sean Blaine.
Those who pay to be guided are often affluent, and wealth often correlates to power and influence. Thoughtful and skilled guides can help these folks realize the fragility of fisheries that bring them a day, or even a lifetime, of pleasure. In turn, those clients might carry that message to their own sphere of influence.
Successful guides have some serious clout in the industry. There’s a good reason guides get discounts on gear. Companies large and small know that guides are seen as experts and that the broader fishing community will follow their lead. Whether that means buying a particular brand of rod or supporting manufacturers that invest in resource conservation, guides wield real power to influence industry players.
Guide advocacy extends well beyond the gear choices they make. Many guides volunteer countless hours at board meetings, open houses, fundraisers and rallies. Even with limited time, they try to scrounge extra hours in the day to fight for their beloved fisheries and surrounding habitat. That volunteerism is not completely selfless, however. Smart guides know that their paycheques depend on fish and fish depend on healthy ecosystems.
Some guides reach a level of success that allows them to start their own companies with philosophies based in conservation ethics. “Today, more guide companies are stepping up to be part of the solution in protecting the resource”, Hilary continued. As the owner of Lary’s Fly & Supply in Columbia Falls, Montana, Hilary spends a large chunk of her time volunteering at educational events through her shop and various other outlets. She serves as a national board member of Backcountry Hunters & Anglers, is a climate activist with Protect Our Winters, and writes for a number of publications.
Hilary is an exception and a powerhouse when it comes to giving back, but she’s an example aspiring guides can look up to. While most guides don’t have the ability to support their fishery monetarily, they should feel a responsibility to protect the landscape from which they take. If a guide could conjure up half of the time and energy Hilary does, the industry would be better equipped to use its voice when good conservation policy needs support.
The primary tool guides have to protect their waters are the days they spend there. Proper fish handling and picking up garbage can go a long way on the water, especially when observed by an audience of impressionable anglers.
“Guides are in a unique position to interact with the recreating public as an authority without a badge. Experience speaks volumes and a good guide will be willing to educate a newcomer for the good of the resource,” said former guide Ryan Callaghan.
New guides should consider their conduct on the water for audiences beyond their clients. When a new guide enters the scene with questionable motives, it can spark distrust and scrutiny from more established guides. Sean Blaine noted his concern about the rapid pace of guides inundating the industry, suggesting it may ultimately compromise the security of fishery health and client satisfaction. “As the demand for guide service has grown—at least in my area of Montana—the need for more guides has led to employment without any clear vetting process.”
It’s important for guides like Sean to educate newcomers about the behind-the-scenes work that goes into keeping a fishery healthy. Waterways have gotten busier, the guiding industry has become saturated and some fish are now listed as endangered.
There is a lot of responsibility that goes along with being a guide—teacher, mentor, leader, steward. A good guide knows that their role is so much more than bringing fish to hand. The truly great guides are patient, selfless, humble and dedicated. They work hard, care about their clients and advocate for their holy places—all while standing in the shadows and somehow managing to fit their cape inside their waders.
So, if you’re still thinking about becoming a guide, roll up your sleeves, compile a plan, get to know your fishery, remember to give back to it, and know that it owes you nothing. As Hilary says, “I fight for the resource but sometimes I treat my own self like shit.” That really gets to the heart of what it means to be a fishing guide.
