That first ominous little tickle in the back of my throat came on the morning after a fairly raucous evening of hand-rolled cigars, butter-smooth rum and, of all things, the hideous mixture of vodka and Red Bull. It was one of those nights that, at my age, you only endure on a far-flung fishing trip away from the steady influence of someone who has your best interests at heart. I remember looking around the dark balcony of the flashy, noisy and generally chaotic nightclub and thinking to myself, “What the hell am I doing here?”

As I get ready for an upcoming saltwater trip, I’ve been enduring the challenges most right-brained thinkers deal with when it comes to organization and preparation. For me, it generally starts with unpacking my duffle from my last big trip. That means I have several notable organizational obstacles. First, I need to remove everything “trouty” from my bag. Yes, I’m a procrastinator — I’ve embraced this trait and have come to grips with the fact that I tend to work best in short bursts and on a deadline.