Most of my time on Elk has been spent south of 90. Smaller crowds, nice scenery and I've always liked the Nun Hole. Last year I had one of my best fishing experiences ever near an old trestle south of 90 on Elk. Tryin to decide if I should recount the whole tale here, but perhaps I will..it's a pretty good story. But first, since I got the first round of work done and I'll take a break to pack up my Rossi with some Escudo. The Rossi has been a bit neglected since the new pipes have arrived and I just got a new tin of Escudo, so time to finish the old one off. So, the story is this: It was late in the steelhead season and I was up in Erie on Elk Creek for the second day in a row after a very rough season of steelheading for me. I'd been out about five times without catching anything. The day before I did manage to get the skunk off and caught a little hen, but I wasn't satisfied. I needed one of the bulls. I geared up, headed into the stream and about five minutes in I saw a guy about 100 yards down from me (we were the only two on the stream) land into what looked like a huge fish. Sure enough, it was. I watched him land it and then went back to my fishing thinking that today would be my day too. The next thing I knew, I heard splashing and I looked over to see the guy charging towards me, upstream, and he'd even left his rod behind. I thought, "What the hell did I do to this guy?" He seemed pissed and I just stood there frozen as I watched him get closer not sure what I'd have to deal with. Then the guy yells, "Hey! You!" And me: "What do you want?!" Getting closer, he shouts, "You gotta help me! I got hooked real bad!" And I just mutter...oh crap, why me? He made his way to me and sure enough he had a sucker spawn, an egg pattern, stuck deep into the soft of his hand between his thumb and forefinger. Without saying anything, he hands both ends of a stretch of monofilament, the loop wrapped around the bend of the hook, and says, "Just yank real hard". I asked him if he wanted me to count three and he said, "I don't give a crap, just do it!" So, I counted three, closed my eyes, heard him sigh and say under his breath "this is gonna suck..." and I yanked as hard as I could. Sure enough, that fly popped right out, but his hand was bleeding all over the place. He just dipped it in the water, washed off the blood and thanked me. It was just then that I noticed he didn't have a regular fishing license; he was a guide. So, I said, "hey how about you help me out now. I just saw you catch that big steelie back there. What's working?" So, he popped open his fly box, gave me a little caddis with a red jelly-rope body and said, "Put that on. I guarantee it." And then I watched him walk away. So, I walked about 100 yards upstream nearer to the trestle, put that fly on and on the first cast sure enough BAM! I hooked into a huge one! I fought that big boy in and felt so good. Then I cast another time, and a second time and on that cast I hooked one that felt even bigger. Sure enough, the line broke and that was that. On Saturday, you can be sure my box will be full of those little red caddis and one is going on my line first thing!