The others soon caught up to us, and Pat was instantly "en fuego." He landed three big silvers, then a beautiful steelhead, which we immediately released. I was running in circles, Tim would hook a fish, we'd net it, then I'd look over my shoulder, and Doogie would be bent, hanging on to another big silver. They were naturals. I was impressed.

"We're in -¿em now, boys!" I smiled. We soon landed a limit of beautiful cohos, and sped off to a fish packer near Homer to drop them off for processing, freezing, and shipping back home. Then we decided to drive back north to Anchorage, where we'd say goodbye to Pat and Steve, recollect ourselves, and transition from the salmon game to the trout and grayling game ... and the serious mountain riding. I hoped we'd find more clear water. Half the story was in the bag.