Day 2. Thursday. A Change in Plans.
I eventually met up with the crew -" John "Doogie" Howell, editor of quad, Keith Mulligan, our photographer extraordinaire, videographer Glenn Milligan, replete with his Yankees baseball cap and Brooklyn accent, Pat Brown, pro quad rider, Steve Nessl, from Yamaha, who had deftly arranged for three new Grizzlies and two Rhinos to be waiting at the Anchorage dealership for us, and Tim Cook of Alaska ATV Adventures.

The rain persisted, and as we sloshed around, trying to wrangle the machines on Tim's custom trailer and truck, he suggested an alteration to the plan. Now Tim was smart enough to know the weather deal ... and he'd been working contingencies for the past few days. He said we'd head south first, toward the coast, and hope it clears north. We'd take our chances on silver salmon running right out of the ocean at Cook Inlet, down by the Anchor River near Homer.

I liked his candor. He wasn't a flyfisherman (he became one, for sure, and a darn good one at that), but he was smart enough to ask people who were where we should go.

"You show me clear water, Tim, and I'll show you the fish ... promise," I said. I was full of shit, of course, but nobody else knew.

We drove the Seward Highway south, past Soldotna, and then on toward Homer. Later that evening, Tim suggested we pull over at the "Skye's the Limit Fishing Camp" right off the highway. After some quick negotiations, he got us two cabins with bunk beds on a bluff overlooking the beach. It was pouring and now blowing 30 knots. After stashing our gear, we drove into Homer to find the "Salty Dawg" (a landmark bar) at the end of the spit. The bar-talk revolved around talk of big fish, but the locals knew it would be tough. I shrunk in the corner against the wall.

Nobody got to sleep before 1 a.m. I sorted through my flies before crashing for the night, then stepped outside the cabin to see the skies clearing to a wide blanket of radiant stars. I thought then that we might just have a chance.