GETTING MY LIVE RED KING CRAB TO WORK

Sitting down with legs crossed while in the cabin of precisely the same stout 36-foot trawler he’s owned for four many years, Ingilæ leans the elbow of his smoking hand over a dinette desk. He’s donning a standard Norwegian wool sweater, a gray beanie and black-framed glasses. His confront is as creased and ruddy while you’d hope from someon