Bogey in the winter of 1996. We woke up early to temps in the teens and frozen pipes in the cabin. Harry and I spent the morning thawing pipes. Headed for the hatchery sometime in the early afternoon. We had the river to ourselves as the wind was blowing about 20- 25 upriver and it was downright brutal. We didn't put the heater in the boat even though we talked about it, we were tough and going to proove it. Nothing in the hatchery hole or tall timber so we decided to quit trying to proove anything and started pushing down river headed for home. Harry says "there's gotta be fish in the 'four o'clock drift'". (he called it that because he always came behind everyone else late in the afternoon and hooked fish there) Sure enough, he hooks one about 10 lbs we land it, bonk it, high five and he says "cast out there and get one for yourself." I do, and hook one identical to his. Both hatchery hens on pink pearl corkies. We didn't make another cast. That was as cold as I've ever been winter steelhead fishing. Harry isn't with us anymore but I haven't passed through that water without thinking of him since. That day is etched in my memory forever. He was a great fisherman and an even better man! Many of you crossed his path for sure, the guy in the brown Lavro, always with a smile and usually with a fish on.