Somewhere in the north pacific a big, mean, three salt steelhead is headed for home. With the shortening days comes the irresistible biological fact of reproductive maturity. These fish are bound for sacred waters. In the heart of steelhead country, from the little coastal streams dripping with the maritime rains and wintry mosses to the tremendous, raw and brawling glacial rivers of the Cascade, Olympic and Coast Ranges. These oceanic fish cruise day after day, in no particular hurry. Just below the surface at times, at others making dives to depths to avoid the predators of day, or perhaps to find food themselves. These fish are the oceans perfect traveler, chrome and white, their ocean camoflauge disguises them from enemy and prey alike. Their long, muscular bodies and clear, almost ghostlike fins have traveled thousands of kilometers. All waiting for this year, when they in all their quicksilver brilliance will ascend the rivers of their birth. They're coming, and I'm....waiting.