
I don’t scare easily. But it was remote and dark. Really dark. Now, if I focused I could hear the highway. That brought a little bit of solace. Then I thought about it. Being in close proximity to cars whizzing by at 80 miles per hour doesn’t add any security. They were whizzing by at 80 miles per hour and it was really dark. I was off the highway and in the woods.
So I drove to a shopping center and slept in the well-lit parking lot. That was how my steelhead trip began.
Actually, it began nearly a year prior when my grandfather passed away. Among many things, he was a firearms collector and dealer. He would drive all over the Midwest to gun shows. Buying, selling; taking guns out, bringing new ones home to Illinois. In his latter years, he transitioned from big pickup trucks with caps on their beds to minivans. They were easier to load and easier to get into.
After he died in January, his minivan sat for months. My wife and I had two small cars, and we were expecting our second child. I got the van that following fall. Since we lived in New Hampshire, this required a flight to Illinois and a little bit of a drive. It didn’t take a lot for me to determine that Erie, Pennsylvania was the halfway point. It was right in the middle of the van and home.
It just so happened to be right in the middle of the fall steelhead season.









