For bears and us the unbearably cooped-up summer seems to be just around the corner.

Another sure sign of impending summer is the frenzy in which the Homer Chamber of Commerce is preparing for the derby. As part of the gear-up I joined 71 hardy souls to brave a small craft advisory Saturday and tag 99 halibut during the 19th annual Homer Jackpot Halibut Derby Tagging Cruise.

Tagging fish is a big, important job as each fish is caught, measured, tagged, and its location recorded. I took my own secret GPS coordinates, if anyone is interested, by the way.

Anglers who catch these fish again will earn $500 to $5,000 cash prizes. And later in the year, four $10,000 fish will be tagged.

To those on our boat, the Miss T, excitement brewed at the chance to catch these early-season flatfish. And on the way out, the topic of the upcoming summer season came up in conversation.

Some were skeptical like a city employee who lived on Skyline Drive that summer would come at all. It seems he is still snowshoeing to his car each morning. Others, like the owner of a cab company, remarked how fast the summer seems to speed by. But to me nothing says spring like a trip to the post office.

Let me explain.

You see, for months my P.O. box has been stuffed with sporting goods catalogs. I would open one up like the Cabelas spring master catalog or the Orvis fly-fishing drooler and look at all the tempting photos of all the smiley-happy people and their bright, silvery fish.

Sure, these companies are selling rods, reels and ammunition. But more diabolically, they also sell the dream of rising trout on a smooth lake, or a 40-pound chinook that takes your line well into the backing.

After eight months of winter dreaming and a serious restructuring of my finances I took the bait. And my new fly rod yes I'm gloating arrived Monday at the post office.

To say it is the nicest piece of frivolous gear I now own like my fiancE says would not be a stretch. And while it might be worth more than the car I drive, it is still just a tool to catch fish.

But it sure is nice to look at.

Unfortunately, as was evident during the tagging cruise, a fishing rod in my hands is an inefficient tool at best.

In fact, it is with a heavy heart that I must pause this column, and use this space to apologize to those who fished with me last weekend. Not only did I catch nothing bigger than a ping pong paddle all day, but I snagged the bottom in 150-feet of water while we were drifting. It's a long, sad story, really, involving 500 yards of line and backing that I don't want to get into here, but to those affected, I'm sorry. And my arms are very sore if that means anything to you.

Back at the post office counter, though, as I waited with my mail slip, a little smile crept up at the edges of my mouth. Maybe it was the chorus of baby chicks, chirping in the mail room somewhere. Or maybe it was just the anticipation of my new rod.

But when the clerk handed me the package, I couldn't hold back my delight. You see, while summer is just around the corner, king salmon season doesn't open on the Anchor River until Memorial Day weekend.

That means I have a month left to dream about fishing, before reality, and the collection agency, come knocking.