Pilchuck river, mid '80s. Had just moved to washington to go to school and hooked up with a guy I was working with to go fishing. I had a borrowed pair of waders, but no wading shoes (looked for days, but no size 16's to be found) so I put on a pair of old high top basketball shoes and off we went. It was cold as heck, snow on the ground and ice on the guides each cast. I learned the reason I was invited was because I had a car to leave in one place and then drive with my co worker and his brother in law to another spot up river to start fishing. As I followed them down the river I noticed each time we stopped to fish a hole they would trade as to who would go first, I was always left to bring up the rear but I didn't know any better. After about 3 hours of fishing and walking with no fish I was about ready to call it a day. They had spent about 30 minutes pounding this run while I fished the top end of the drift. They started down river to the next spot and I decided to get a couple of casts in where they had just been fishing. After a couple of cast I got the "hey there aren't any fish in that hole, lets go" from them. 2 cast later I am hooked into a 12lb chrome hen that is trying like crazy to make it to some brush at the bottom of the hole. I managed to land her, bonked her on the head and carry her for the next hour untill we made it to my car. They decided to keep fishing and hitch hike back to thier car, I was fine with the fish I had and nearly frozen so I called it a day. That is the only time I have ever fished the Pilchuck.