My Dad was an avid steelheader and I received my first hand-off at the age of 3, in 1973 on the North Fork Stilly. It was a 12 pound hen that slammed an Ottos "Ace-Bait", the go-to spoon of the era. Dad said everytime it took a run it would drag me down the gravel bar, and I just held on and eventually dragged the fish on the bank. He said that I gave it a bear hug for the next 15 minutes and was covered with scales and slime after the ordeal. I received countless hand-offs over the years until I hooked and landed my first winter run on my own in the Elochoman at age 11, just below the house that always used to blast the opera music, on a pink okie drifter with green yarn. I have been a hopeless steelhead bum ever since-

If only I knew then what i know now........