IF you swing flies for coastal Steelhead in the lower 48 or you have ever hunted the one, big, brown trout all fall; throwing big ol’ streamers no matter what, even in the face of your compadres giggling as they set the hook on the umpteenth nice-but-not-what-you’re-looking-for fish then you get it. Like Big Foot, you gotta believe, and that is usually built on some previous occasions for hope.