Well, looking from my hiding place beneath my bed, .357 magnum firmly clutched in my right hand, TV remote in the other, I can often see the need to dream myself off the planet these days, too.

Photo: Ginny Holt

Let's just say the sharks are raving about my bugs.

The post-pile lava spires rose hundreds of feet above his head. A small group of mule deer grazed in the meadow near the horses. The geese had moved to the opposite bank near the spring.

Can you still remember at least one fish for every year you have fished? Do you have dreams with tailing bones and permit, the slash of a rooster’s comb?

That was a good fall trip, listening to the Moody Blues and Led Zeppelin, dazzled by the Fall color, seeing black bear everywhere. The Cassiar had some gold rushes in the past, and there are signposts pointing out stretches of creek where guys would scoot aside six inches of gravel and find heaps of gold just lying there, glinting on the bedrock.

Photo: Tim Romano

Tiny streams like this one draw my attention as quickly and strongly as do rivers that hold large browns or in the northwest part of the state, bull trout.

Winner! Our smoltiest smolt to date: Go small or go home.