A few decades ago we lived on the Issaquah Plateau (as it was called then) about a mile from the famed Pine Lake. It was April 15th, the opening day of trout season, and the lake(s) had been stuffed with trout just waiting to bite. Then the weather changed.
Within an hour after sunrise slop and slush was falling from the sky. The dock was turning white when the bite
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JIM Goerg,
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