When I was 7, my stepdad took me down to Mill creek in Shelton to do some fishing after I had bugged him incessantly. We went down on the old Moose property and he set me up with my trout pole and a small Dardevle spoon. I got set up on a nice little hole while Bill worked his way downstream.

After a half-dozen casts, something hammered the spoon and I still remeber my amazement at the size of the tail that broke the water. I started screaming "Fish...fish!!" and Bill came around the corner to see me standing there with the trout pole folded in half and a steelhead on my line. After a long battle and a terrific gaff job by ol' Bill, my addiction set in. It was a 10-12 lb. hen steelhead and I still have the photos of me holding the fish with its tail on the ground. Talk about a $hit-eating grin..........