Useless steelhead report

#19
If I may throw in my two cents, I am a card carrying pizza pocket expert due to my hundreds of Two pizza pockets/Old School Green Gator Aid/Snickers Bar lunch combos all over the Pacific Northwest. I have always felt the Darrington mini mart/gas station at the end of the road put out a spectacular product with a flaky crust and a little bit of kick in the pepperoni and sauce but a few years back nobody in any mini mart could compete with the rolled up omelets available at the Fortson mini mart/gas station (a Texaco if I remember right). That was a world class breakfast in winter, but they didn't open until 6 AM which made them completely useless as a summer run spot. Hell, we've been casting for over an hour by 6AM. Just some food memories from back in the day. I always appreciated any place with real condiments for the hot dogs. Those damn miniature packs of relish really chap my ass anytime I am relegated to using them. It takes 5 damn packs of that shit to really cover up a dog. The whole ordeal is a crying shame. Ahhhhh, mini mart memories! Tight lines Coach
 

_WW_

Geriatric Skagit Swinger
#20
I used to fish the Stilly with a guy that lived in Whitehorse. Big guy...6' 11"
One day we stopped in at the Whitehorse store for some lunch. The conversation with the counter guy went like this:
"How many corn dogs do you have left?"
"Lemme see - um - there's eleven of 'em. How many would you like?"
"All of 'em"
 
#21
I used to fish the Stilly with a guy that lived in Whitehorse. Big guy...6' 11"
One day we stopped in at the Whitehorse store for some lunch. The conversation with the counter guy went like this:
"How many corn dogs do you have left?"
"Lemme see - um - there's eleven of 'em. How many would you like?"
"All of 'em"
LOL :rofl:
 

Jergens

AKA Joe Willauer
#22
If I may throw in my two cents, I am a card carrying pizza pocket expert due to my hundreds of Two pizza pockets/Old School Green Gator Aid/Snickers Bar lunch combos all over the Pacific Northwest. I have always felt the Darrington mini mart/gas station at the end of the road put out a spectacular product with a flaky crust and a little bit of kick in the pepperoni and sauce but a few years back nobody in any mini mart could compete with the rolled up omelets available at the Fortson mini mart/gas station (a Texaco if I remember right). That was a world class breakfast in winter, but they didn't open until 6 AM which made them completely useless as a summer run spot. Hell, we've been casting for over an hour by 6AM. Just some food memories from back in the day. I always appreciated any place with real condiments for the hot dogs. Those damn miniature packs of relish really chap my ass anytime I am relegated to using them. It takes 5 damn packs of that shit to really cover up a dog. The whole ordeal is a crying shame. Ahhhhh, mini mart memories! Tight lines Coach
i think the big gas station in montesano on the way to the wynoochee could give any pizza pocket/bbq burrito a run for their money.
 
G

golfman65

Guest
#24
Hey it could be worse..I fell and broke my thumb and busted up my knee pretty good..happened early in the day and kept fishing..limping and cursing but fishing all the same...and the worst part..My buds would send me through the run first (saying how sorry they felt for mebawling:) and then pick pocket me from behind...Don't let your weasel friends talk you into skating a big bug through so you stir the pot and then pick um up on a nice wet fly....

It also makes you want to bawling: when you take a new guy who can barely cast and then HE pick pockets you too!!!! Freaking winter was easy compared to this...

The summer run fishless wonder who's "friends" rule!!!
 
#26
man I love the nootch. was there a week ago. I caught 3 or 4 cutts, 2 bows, only fished for about 30 mins so not a bad day. Ooh yah I also ate the pizza slice at the gas station...mmm.
 

Flyborg

Active Member
#27
To me, steelheading represents everything good and bad in fishing.

The waders that smell like mold and fish slime because they never dry out (on the inside or outside).

Seventeen hour fishing days--when at the end, fishless, mind-weary and physically drained you wonder why you just did that. But all you can think about is when you can get out next and do it again. Obsession may be maddening, but its my obsession, damn it.

Trying to explain to your wife that it's peak season and you just have to get out, even though you've been saying that every week for five years.

But most of all, that solitary five minutes when a fish takes, runs, dances, and ultimately consummates your feral desires with either a brief handshake and a goodbye, or a wrestling match in the rocks followed by a concussion and blood (usually the fishes, but not always!)
 

Ed Call

Well-Known Member
#28
Doesn't that five minutes also end with a LDR and a WINK? I don't know...yet...but I hope to frustrate myself endlessly whenever possible.