These days it seems fewer and fewer Twilight fans are making the pilgrimage to Forks.

With the commercial success of the Twilight book and movie series, the once proclaimed logging capitol of the world had morphed into the vampire capitol of the universe.

I remember the good old days when hoards of soggy teenagers huddled in the rain in front of the “Welcome to Forks” sign while the rest of the family who’d been drug from across the country and around the world, waited in the car.

Waiting, to find the rest room facilities, cash machines and drive to LaPush and hassle the Indians about what time they were going to turn into werewolves.

All of which startled the locals until they figured out the Twi-hards were tourists and the season was suddenly opened year-round.

The next thing you know there were Twilight camp firewood bundles.

I’m not bitter. Just because the Twilight phenomenon boom thing didn’t work for me.  Even though I was the only  fishing guide on the Peninsula to offer a Twilight Fishing Fantasy where for a limited time only with additional fees and service charges, the Twi-hards had the once in a lifetime opportunity to go fishing with Edward and Bella.

OK, maybe they were just cardboard reproductions of the Twilight characters but I sell dreams, of hooking silver fish in blue water while partying with the latest Hollywood heart throbs.

Things went OK on the first Twilight Fantasy Fishing trip. Unfortunately the Twilight figures were not waterproof.  I should have known better.

We were fishing in the Hoh Rainforest where it rains. A lot. After a soaking I had to tape Edward to a kindling stick to give him enough backbone to sit upright and poor Bella got so bleached out she looked like an anorexic version of “The Mummy.”

Then there were the other fishing guides, whose uncharitable remarks only revealed how bitter they were about not thinking up the idea first and the delusional Twi-hards who wondered if we were going to catch a 100-pound salmon. I said it was a good day to try.

Instead we snagged into a spawned out bull trout that tore off downriver like a runaway shopping cart to where the river dove into a brush pile called, “The Tunnel of Love” in the brochure.

That’s where tragedy struck. Edward and Bella failed to execute a crucial limbo move. They got ripped and laid together in the bilge for an eternity or the next trip to the dump I don’t remember.

So I retired from the Twilight industry. Looking back I realize how wrong it was to prey upon the deranged fantasies of city slickers who were convinced they were going to see a werewolf swinging on a vine around the next bend of the river with a big old vampire on his tail.

Instead I decided to devote my life to sharing with our tourist’s friends the experience of seeing a real creature, the Sasquatch.

According to the Bigfoot Field Research Organization, Washington state leads the nation in Bigfoot sightings, at 525!

Most if not many of these reports were not sightings of me walking in the woods.

The BFRO has a TV show called “Finding Bigfoot” on the Animal Channel where they hunt for the creature with gangs of people and high-tech gadgets.

This does not work.

You cannot hunt a Sasquatch. Your only chance to see one is if they are hunting you.

To attract a curious creature, you must exhibit curious behavior.

 Next: The Bigfoot Hunter’s Cookbook