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Monday, June 30th, 2008
Posted by Jon Aqui @ 06:48:42 am
Where: Two rivers, one lake, and one creek Song of the day: "Maps," Yeah Yeah Yeahs WARNING! SUPER LONG BLOG ENTRY AHEAD! Sleep 8, Fishing 28 From 2AM on Friday morning to about 10:30AM on Sunday morning, the ratio of sleep to fishing penciled out at 2 to 7. And the time in between? Spent in prepping for each of those days. The cost may seem steep, but the rewards justified it. Let's rewind to the beginning, shall we? ------------------------------------------------ The alarm's beeping stirred me from the brief two-hour nap. It was two in the morning, and it was go time. I slipped my contacts in, checked my equipment and darted out the door. Today we would initiate our friend in the ways of the fly. Minutes later, Don and Steve jumped in the Scion. As we neared the river, I reassessed my zealousness in setting an early alarm--first light wasn't less than an hour and a half away. Enter the 24-hour drive through at McDonald's. "Are you serving dinner or breakfast?" "Dinner." Jackpot. We grabbed our orders at the second window and made for the water. Despite my early morning hunger pangs, I waited until we were riverside. Once there, I proceeded to wolf down my "breakfast."  Nothing like a Big Mac to start off the day! Belly full, I went about stringing up.  I decided to try out a few tube patterns I tied. The one positive thing I can say about waking up so early is that I can take my time when I get to the water. No bunched waders, misaligned ferrules or sloppy knots.  This time, it was fresh air, unencumbered thoughts and the beginning of a beautiful day to enjoy. :) As I mentioned before, the day's intent was to introduce a friend to fly fishing. Granted, it was a huge gamble to start someone off with spey (not to mention steelhead), but I don't think it deterred this particular initiate. "This is great. It's been so long since I've seen the sun rise."  Well, buddy, there it is. Enjoy. :) Rods ready, I turned to Don. "You want to take him through things?" "Yeah." With the sun gradually lighting the valley, I quickly worked down the first part of the run. Momentarily sated, I turned upstream and witnessed the birth of a new fly angler. Don had Steve working on a double spey. Steve went through each stage, attempting to translate what he heard into what he was doing. I watched him repeat the motions over and over again, making minor adjustments here and there. In my experience, proper execution cannot be attained without diligence. When someone exhibits this ethic in fly fishing, I am encouraged to believe that their efforts will be rewarded with not only good technique but good fish karma. It may not happen that day, but it will happen. Which brings us to the next day... ------------------------------------------------ "It's gotta be 80 already. And it's only 9." Under a sun-filled, bleach-blue sky, the arid landscape's hot fist clenched around us. We welcomed it. Under normal circumstances, the heat would be unbearable--oppressive, even.  But today, the forecasted triple digit temps would be offset by the comfortable waters of a carp-filled desert reservoir. Jan, Steve and Don had made the long trip over to observe the spectacle of the giant, leaping goldfish. "Don't freak out if they run into your legs." Heh. I was only half joking. :) "Let's cut across." I was eager to get to my favorite spot. Maybe too eager. Don took a different direction and hooked one almost immediately.  A good sign. Not long after, I had one, too. We spread out, each man claiming his own piece of water. There was plenty to go 'round. Jan carried on like a kid at Sea World, with "Whoas!" and other such exclamations. Not only did he see big fish, but he ran into them, too. Literally.  "He followed it!" As the day heated up, so did the fishing. We were surrounded by overgrown goldfish. The game was on.  There's a school!  Success! Don was quickly into another one. Since he was within casting distance, I decided to work the same school.  Double!  From my point of view. :)  Say cheese! For a short time, it was carp madness.  Not too shabby! But all things must end and all of sudden, the fish turned off. I turned to the group. "What do you guys want to do? No sense wasting the rest of the day waiting for them to turn back on." They agreed.  "I have an idea..." And it was ditch trout. Nothing like that to top off a day in the desert.  Don drew first blood--again... :)  Followed by this chunky specimen.  And remember what I said about fish karma? Here's Steve's first fly-caught trout--on his second day fly fishing. Congrats, Steve!  Aaaannd one more for good measure! We would've stayed, but there's only so much heat you can take without having to cool off in the water and seeing as how Rocky Ford's a no-wading zone, it was back in the car and off over the mountains. Hours later, the trunk shut and I put the car in "D." "See you all in a few." I meant that literally. This had become and endurance test. :) ------------------------------------------------ This time, I beat the alarm. Three AM didn't seem so bad anymore. Isn't that sick? As I rolled out of bed, I thought I heard my bones creak. How much time passed from when I put my head on the pillow? It didn't matter how much or little sleep I had, the sad fact was that tomorrow was Monday. And that meant returning to the mind-numbing trudgery of Corporate America. No, more sleep would mean squandering precious hours which I could be wringing the life out of.  So an hour later, I picked up two more fishing zombies and we headed back to the beginning of our circuit.  And continued to share more knowledge.  As well as find some knowledge on our own.  And mess with some newly-tied patterns.  We even found time to fish. In the end, endurance will only take you so far and about halfway through the day, we gave in to the beautiful day, excellent weather and the satisfaction that we spent more time fishing than wasting it. It was time to just sit on the bank and enjoy the day.  One of us even managed to get more sleep! :)
Categories: Fly Fishing, Freshwater
Wednesday, June 25th, 2008
Posted by Jon Aqui @ 09:30:30 pm
Where: Back on the river Song of the day: "Surrender," Cheap Trick "It gets to you like that." The guy on the other end knew exactly how I felt. Steelheading has started to consume me. And it's not just the steelhead. It's everything about steelheading. I've come to accept that it's a very low-numbers game--and I've even convinced myself that I like it that way! Crazy? How about daydreaming of walking-pace runs and thinking of traffic as river right or river left? What about buying three new two-handers in as many months? One for super low, clear water, the other for general floating line work and the third for all-around use? Um, yeah...I have it pretty bad.  It's gotten to the point that I'm willing to bribe my buddies with these just so they'll go with me! :)  See what I mean? Look closely...  Heck, I even tied one fly every day for the past week (okay, some days I tied two) to help me cope. ;) Seriously, if you haven't noticed it in recent posts, I've been throwing the two-hander a LOT. That doesn't mean I won't be doing other things, though, so for those of you who enjoy variety, I'll maintain the balance here on this blog. You'll still see saltwater posts, carp, trout, etc. But I've come to enjoy fishing for speying for steelhead so much that I've started a separate blog about summer steelheading in particular--I'm not so much into the winter game. :) To read my inaugural post and see what the blog will be like (I think), click here. In the meantime, look for a report next week from this weekend's carp class (I'm keeping my fingers crossed).
Categories: Fly Fishing, Freshwater
Wednesday, June 18th, 2008
Posted by Jon Aqui @ 10:19:55 pm
Where: On the river Song of the day: "The Way It Is," Bruce Hornsby Summer steelheading is upon us. Days are starting earlier and ending later, making both after work jaunts as well as entire days, complete with mid-day naps, all too tempting. If there's anything I could get lost in at this stage in my fly fishing life, summer steelheading is it. And that's what we did. A few pictures to whet the appetite of those enamored by the summer swing...  Messin' with a Skagit Compact  This seam looked REALLY fishy!  Bill was thinking the same thing we were!  Just enjoying the day...  Diggin' the new DECHO spey...  Might as well try it... Sorry, no fish pics this time around, just a love tap earlier in the day to show for our efforts.  Not that going fishless could ruin a day like this...
Categories: Fly Fishing, Freshwater
Monday, June 9th, 2008
Posted by Jon Aqui @ 10:12:57 pm
Where: Rocky Ford Song of the day: "My Name Is Jonas," Weezer "I spent a lot of time out here. Some weekends I'd head out on Saturday morning and come back that evening. Then I'd do it again the next day. I just wanted to get away." Of course, back then, gas was cheap, my time was free and my experience limited. The perfect formula for feeding an addiction. Sure, I'd fished Rocky Ford over the past years, but not with the same frequency as that year. Back then, 'the ditch' served as a focal point for subsiding the worries, anger and lack of forward direction that seemed to swell my mid twenties. Standing on the foot bridge, I stared at a pig of a trout. As he finned to the left and intercepted a drifting morsel, my eyes refocused on my reflection. The face on the surface looked back with the reassurance that things had changed for the better. A good part of that started with this creek. That must have been the reason why we ended up here--with everything else being either spotty or outright disastrous I can only guess that my Rocky Ford reflex took over. :) "Go get 'em man." Don and I staked out our spots and started lining up drifts. Boy, was I rusty. I must've had a dozen refusals before I had my first take. And when I finally had a bite, I ripped the fly away from the fish!  In the meantime, Don drew first blood. :)  It didn't take long after that to get things going.  And going...  And going.  They love the white rabbit!  Who says men can't multitask? ;)  Whoops! He isn't ready yet!  Now that's a pretty ditch trout.  More multitasking...  "Let's hit the lower stretch." It was like being 26 again. For the next several hours, I had no troubles, no distractions, willing fish and plenty of sunshine.  This was one of those finicky guys from directly downstream of the bridge. Nice job, Don!  Good 'n plenty!  Another generous pocket. "We haven't had a day like this in a long time." "Too long."  Another ditchy for Don.  And me, too! "Wow, it's 5:30 already." Seven straight hours of fishing and for all I cared, it could have been seven more. But a certain level of moderation is something five more years of age has taught me to appreciate, so we called it a day. "So what do you want to smoke? We should celebrate." I knew which answer he was looking for and it was a good one.  "The Antano, dude!" So we smoked, drank, recounted fishing stories and plotted future adventures.  Not a worry in the world and nowhere close to anything that matters, except good fishing. Maybe turning 31 isn't so dreadful, after all. Looking back on things, it's better than turning 26--for me, at least. Either way, it's not like the trout care. ;)
Categories: Fly Fishing, Freshwater
Monday, June 2nd, 2008
Posted by Jon Aqui @ 09:20:36 pm
Where: NOT the Cedar River Song of the day: "Are You Happy Now?," Michelle Branch "The Cedar is definitely a no-go." Our favorite urban stream's flows, like the majority of the other rivers', were out of control.  Bummer... This couldn't have come at a worse time for me, either. I've gone fishless for the past month and the itch for a tug had really gotten to me. I ran through the list of options in my head. I didn't want to go over the pass. Stocked trout didn't hold any appeal. Chucking clousers in the salt, hoping to find a cuttie or maybe a coho didn't sound fun, either. And by ironic process of elimination, steelheading became the fishing plan d'jour. While most rivers were high, we knew of one that wasn't.  And by six in the morning, we were on it. I tied on a marabou spey and chucked it into the run, slipping into the cast, swing, step formula. Halfway down, I felt a tug and let the slack line slip from my fingers. A miss. A rock, maybe? It couldn't have been. So I went through again. Another tap. I let the line slip again, lifted the rod slightly and...  ...shook the skunk off...kind of. :( Not exactly what I was looking for, but bringing something to hand helped me cope with my fishing doldrums.  And it even led to a few real trout later in the run! They weren't huge and they weren't steelhead, but after a month of strikeouts, I'll take it.
Categories: Fly Fishing, Freshwater
Wednesday, May 28th, 2008
Posted by Jon Aqui @ 07:40:53 am
Puget Sound Fly Co. will be celebrating its 5 year anniversary this Saturday and to commemorate the occasion, they're giving away free stuff! First, there's free food. Anybody in the market for a free rod? What about a free reel? How about a free hat with ANY purchase? Yup, they're giving that and more away this weekend. And on the off chance that free stuff doesn't float your boat, why not throw your name in the ring for some casting games? If you win you'll get, you guessed it, free stuff! In between the food and the games, don't miss out on the guest fly tiers whipping up some of their favorite patterns. So stop by--the Yak's blown (among other popular rivers) and summer steelhead is closed until Sunday, after all. And let's not even talk about the salt... Can't remember where the shop is? They're located at: Puget Sound Fly Company Give them a call with any questions. See you there!
Categories: Fly Fishing
Monday, May 19th, 2008
Posted by Jon Aqui @ 07:10:01 am
The callbox beeped and the gate swung open. Ten thirty on a sunny Thursday morning with no where to go but south. I pulled into Clark's driveway and started throwing things into the FJ.  So much for packing light! ;) I was headed to my first Spey Clave, an event where a large segment of the great minds in spey, along with those that hope to gain some of their collective knowledge, gather. Held on the Sandy river, we had hoped to get there early and fish some of its runs before the festivities began. But the rising temperature wouldn't have it. Almost every river we crossed showed signs of high water and heavy siltation--the flip side of having a hot, sunny weekend. Each instance tore chunks from our optimism, replacing it with the doubt that we would get to fish the Sandy at all. And we knew for certain once we saw crossed over it. "That river's punched." I looked over the bridge as we crossed. The Sandy ran high and milky brown, like someone poured a lake full of Yoohoo! in upstream.  Such is to be expected in 90+ degree temps, though. In the space of hours and a few hundred miles, our primary focus on fishing...  ...changed to relaxing around camp! "It's just good to be out here." I agreed--I hadn't been away from the office all year and it was time. "So what do you want to do tomorrow, then?" I asked. It was a stupid question. It was the Spey Clave, after all. "Well, they'll be setting up tomorrow."  Which meant rod testing...  And more rod testing... :) By the end of the day, Clark and I had messed around with all three casting methods and, of course, rods matching those schools' techniques, including some new Meiser sticks. By mid Saturday morning, the gathering was in full swing. The test casting area burst with Skagit heads, long belly lines and loops of all shapes and distances.  While everything you could imagine in the world of spey, from rods to lines to reels, beckoned attendees to this location.  "Did someone say reels?" ;) Over the previous weeks, I had been contemplating buying a really, really light spey rod. From all accounts I had read, the Dec Hogan ECHO 4 weight was the one. Now was my moment--the Airflo/ECHO booth was yards away. Two recognizable faces sat behind the table--I'd never met them before but had been looking forward to. Mike and Jay introduced themselves and after a quick discussion about the 4 weight, they sent me to the lawn with 3 separate lines. Sweet! After about 20 minutes I had made my decision. "You only get one birthday a year," I thought. Translation: I'm buying this thing! :) The rest of the day, we milled around, threw a few more sticks...  ...and watched a seminar. All in all the clave was great. The heat? Not so much. And by the end of the day, both of us had a pretty good headache going and had seen all there really was to see. "You ready?" I nodded and an hour later we were cruising down the highway, headed home. Not exactly what I had in mind for a few days off, but I'm sure I'll be able to make up for it this coming weekend in between wine tastings. ;)
Categories: Fly Fishing
Wednesday, May 14th, 2008
Posted by Jon Aqui @ 08:42:27 pm
"Since we're not going to the Bahamas, I was thinking that we could go to the Spey Clave." "Sounds like a plan." And with that, the idea of a $1,000 plane ticket quickly faded away. So instead of the Bahamas, Clark and I are headed to Oregon to fish for springers and check out the Spey Clave on the Sandy River. I haven't taken a vacation from the corporatocracy yet this year and it's TIME. And with temps ranging from the mid 80s to low 90s, we couldn't have picked a better time!  Plus, I get to put my new rod and reel through its paces! If you're going to be at the Clave and we haven't met yet, don't hesitate to say hi and introduce yourself. Hope to see you there!
Categories: Fly Fishing, Freshwater
Monday, May 5th, 2008
Posted by Jon Aqui @ 09:08:40 pm
Where: Yakima River Song of the day: "Sheep Go To Heaven," Cake "You're at 20," Vern said, pointing me toward my station. After setting up, I took stock of this year's event. Judging by my initial impression, the transformation of the NW Tying Expo into the Washington FFF Conclave seemed to be a success. As I'd never done this sort of thing before, I figured the best thing to do was conform (which I HATE doing) and do what everyone else was doing. That is to say, start tying flies.  When in Rome... Before long, folks started to file in. At first, a few looky-loo's. And then a familiar face, then two, then a steady stream of fishing reports from all over the place, from Mexico to yesterday's float on the Yak. Time sped by and a quarter to nine become a quarter past eleven.  Despite all that time, I didn't get much tying done. ;) Jamie stopped by the table. "I'm going next!" --------------------------------------- "This is the first time I've been on this side of the mountains this year." "Me too." Jamie was on deck, getting ready to cast. It had been two years since he'd competed in this event. Given that, I abandoned my tying post in favor of supporting a longtime buddy. After a short practice round, he gets the signal to go. The familiar stress of competition lasts for an agonizing five minutes, after which Jamie's scores come back. And they're good. To celebrate his performance, we lit up a couple of cigars and relax on the lawn. It had been far too long since I'd enjoyed a spring afternoon on the dry side. "Well, we've got to go--wineries and all that." A few handshakes and a promise to share a few bottles and we're on our way. As we snake down the highway, I catch glimpses of the Yak. "I'm glad I brought my rod," I think. "Let's hope my plan works so I can fish."  The plan in question, is, of course, to hit as many wineries as possible today to leave time to fish tomorrow. ;) For better or worse, my plan worked.  I did get to fish--but only after buying four cases of wine! :( -------------------------------- To everyone who stopped by to chat: good catching up with all of you and good meeting the new faces! Steve, send me an e-mail so we can fish sometime, salt or not. My e-mail address is ohimo@hotmail.com
Categories: Fly Fishing, Freshwater
Tuesday, April 29th, 2008
Posted by Jon Aqui @ 06:47:44 pm
I need to go fishing!!! It's killing me. I've been deprived for the past two weekends.  Practicing single speys on the Puyallup was the closest I got. There is hope, though: I'll be one of the fly tiers at this year's FFF Conclave at the Ellensburg Fairgrounds (in E-burg, of course) and with any luck I'll be able to squeeze in a little time on the Yak between this event and a commitment I made (foolishly, perhaps?) to do some wine tasting in the Yakima Valley. Anyway...I'll be there from 8:30 to 11:30 on Saturday, May 3rd and will be covering easy to tie, effective Of course, fly tying isn't the only feature offered at this event. In addition to numerous fly tiers, casting and fishing courses will be offered and you can even enter a casting competition and vie for some pretty cool prizes. For more info about the event, visit: http://www.washingtoncouncilfff.org/2008WMain.htm# Hope to see you there--make sure to stop by and share your fishing stories!
Categories: Fly Fishing
Wednesday, April 16th, 2008
Posted by Jon Aqui @ 08:59:39 pm
Where: It doesn't matter, we didn't catch anything ;) Song of the day: "Shipping Up To Boston," Dropkick Murphys "I think this is what we should do for my birthday." Bryan and Don agreed. We had found this year's destination and it involves my growing love for spey. Don't get me wrong, I love fishing the salt. But if I had done things differently, I'd probably be a spey nut instead of a beach bum. It's just as well, though, given gas prices these days. It started innocently enough. The three of us left Bryan's house at a quarter to seven with the intent to ply moving water for steel or spring chinook.  Yeah...not so much. Though the flow seemed perfect for swinging, my guess is we were too late to slide into any of the decent runs and with the sun the way it was...well, let's just say it quickly turned into a good day for casting practice. That, and a little exploration. Taking advantage of the balmy conditions and the longer days, we jumped in the truck in search of other opportunities. It's always easy to leave fish that you don't think are there to find fish you hope are somewhere else. :) And that's how the three of us ended up having this conversation. Looking into the run in front of us made it a no brainer, along with a few other key factors.  We're definitely coming back...soon! Thirty-one is only eight short weeks away. Of course, I don't have to wait until then... ;)
Categories: Fly Fishing, Freshwater
Sunday, April 6th, 2008
Posted by Jon Aqui @ 02:46:57 pm
Where: Hood Canal, Puget Sound, Cowlitz River (whew!) Song of the day: "Shot In The Dark," Ozzy Osbourne "I heard it hasn't been very good this year." "It hasn't, but there are a few spots turning out fish. You up for a bit of driving?" They both nodded eagerly. This class was small, only two as opposed to the regular six. A welcome change and one I felt would benefit this pair. After class, we agreed to meet at the Narrows. If things looked dead, we'd move to other venues. With the next morning came clarity in how we'd approach our day. An on-shoulder wind pushed steadily during our ten minutes of observation. I had hoped to see some sign of life, but to no avail. "Time to exercise our options. Let's find some cutthroat." Ray and Mike jumped in the van, following Don and I to the first stop in what would become a tour of saltwater beaches in both the Canal and the Sound. The beginning of our salty circuit foreshadowed a good day. During the stroll to the beach, I told my companions that our previous excursion produced fish within five minutes of getting wet. A rather exaggerated statement, I'm sure they thought.  And they were right to think that. This fish was caught about twenty minutes after getting in! ;) "This is what I wanted to catch in the first place!" During class, Mike had admitted to approaching fly fishing "backwards." "I'm starting with the salt. I've caught a pink but haven't gotten any cutthroat and I've been out about a dozen times."  Well, Mike, here's to doing things backwards. :) Not content with just one hookup, he went right back to it, plying the nearby rips, searching for proof that it wasn't just luck.  I think that bent rod proves enough, don't you? "Now to catch one on a fly that I've tied myself." I couldn't help but admire his attitude. Clearly, this guy had set goals for the day. The ebb had different ideas, however. It slacked out, killing the good vibes and forcing us (oh no!) to a take a quick pizza break and discuss the next leg of our route. Beach number two put us back in the Sound. "Look straight down as you work the shore. If you see schools of little guys, you know what to do." Not long after, Mike and Ray saw what I was talking about. Chum babies. "Time to reach that second goal," I thought.  So did he. :) Let's see...first cutthroat in the salt. Now first cuttie on a fly he tied. And the other first I forgot to mention, his first fish on a new rod! Talk about getting your groove on... Now I bet you're thinking, "But there were two guys, right? What about the other one?" I had been watching Ray the entire time while Mike burnt up the day with good juju. His calm, laid back demeanor never faltered, his determination never cracked and he fished every rip as thoroughly as a steelheader works a run. You could say he carried on as if the bite was eventual and he was biding his time until it came. Consequently, his disposition offset any concerns I had when we arrived at our last stop. "If they're here, they'll be close, less than forty feet. Of all the cutthroat beaches I fish, this one has given up the biggest." Ray worked line out, following all the "rules" we discussed in class: forty five degrees down current, broken retrieves, etc. At twenty feet away, he followed the last rule--the strip set. The fish fought hard, but the deal was done. A hook planted firmly in the corner of its jaw and the seasoned hand of a guy who grew up fishing for Deschutes River redsides combined to assure Ray's success.  It really was eventual. ;) The chunky fish displayed a deep olive back, a whiter belly than normal and more prominent slash marks. A beautiful post-spawner gorging on chum fry, I suspected. An excellent way to end an excellent day. Inspired, I decided to apply their determination and thoroughness to my own development. By eight the next morning, I was knee-deep in the Cowlitz, practicing with an especially finicky rod, watching Clark toss quick, sharp loops downstream.  I internalized a sigh as I observed the effortless motions and equally potent results. "We all have to start somewhere," I reminded myself.  Just ask these guys.
Categories: Fly Fishing, Saltwater
Friday, March 28th, 2008
Posted by Jon Aqui @ 10:58:46 am
Interested in getting into the salt but don't know where to start? Join me on Friday night (April 4th) and the following day for a crash course on beach fishing. Equipment? Check. Species? Check. Where to find the fish? Check. We'll talk about this and more. Give Puget Sound Fly Co. at 253-839-4119 to sign up and hear about future beach class dates.
Categories: Fly Fishing
Monday, March 24th, 2008
Posted by Jon Aqui @ 09:47:24 pm
Where: Hood Canal Song of the day: "On Earth As It Is In Heaven," Ennio Morricone "I'm getting the itch to fish and it says tomorrow's going to be nice, so give me a call and let me know if you plan on fishing and where." I hung up and dialed Bill's number. "I'll see you there at 8:30." After hanging up with him, I dialed another friend. "Okay, I'll see you at the house at 7:30." The three of us were going Easter cuttie hunting. The first stop, though, got us thinking about something other than fishing. "I'm up for that--might as well make the best of a day like this." And after a dash to the store (for some special equipment) and determining a suitable location, we had gotten entirely off track.  Can you blame us?  After all, there were ACRES of these things!  Good thing we bought that "special equipment" on the way over. ;) Photo: Don Luckily, you can only eat so many oysters before you explode. Rather than get to that point, we thought it best to re-focus our efforts on the original goal. Cutthroat. You see, about this time of year, sea-runs gorge themselves on the outgoing chum fry making their way to the Pacific. In many ways, cutties during this period are like trout during a thick hatch. That is to say, stupid. And reckless. Kind of like three guys in waders walking 1/4 of a mile through sticky mud, another 1/4 of a mile on razor-sharp oysters just to eat the ones closest to the water. Anyway... It was off to yet another beach--it seems as if this driving around thing is becoming thematic lately, no?  And what a beautiful beach it was. Not long after getting there, a guy walked up. "Going for the sea-runs, huh?" "Yup." "Well, they're here. A school was jumping right in front of where you're standing about 1/2 an hour ago." "Really?" "Yeah, right when I got here, about 5 or 6 of them, pretty clos--" "You mean like this one?" I asked, setting the hook. He laughed.  "Yeah, like that one." That put the icing on it. I mean, it's March for pete's sake. And from what I remember in past years, this month's usually soggy, windy, cold or any combination of the three. Just look at Sunday's weather. Fortunately, this March's lion tossed us a day of lamb.
Categories: Fly Fishing, Saltwater
Monday, March 17th, 2008
Posted by Jon Aqui @ 08:15:44 pm
Where: Puget Sound Song of the day: "The Sidewinder Sleeps Tonight," R.E.M Another day of beach-hopping. The class convened at the prescribed time, stripping baskets and rods ready. Seven guys with the entire beach to themselves. As I went through line handling, reading water and presentation, I noticed their eyes drifting to the water behind me. "There's another one!" Jumpers. "Do you guys just want to fish?" Their answers contradicted their body language. "No, no, keep going." "No, let's go over the rest." "Uh...no, keep going." Uh huh. I continued. Seconds later, they did it again. I couldn't blame them, though--would you be able to listen to some guy gabbing away if you saw fish jumping?  "All right, let's go. Spread out and work downtide." For a while, things went well. There wasn't any wind and fish were surfacing in good frequency. As the tide receded, I kept hoping that the next jump would be closer. The fish thought differently. It didn't matter how much beach we gained, they stayed well out of range, in the order of about 200 feet away. Rather than waste more effort, I decided to switch up to cutties. We agreed to work one beach and then possibly head to another one. That plan went out the window as soon as I saw the spit. I can remember on one hand how many times it looked that good. Not a lick of wind, good room to cast and obvious current, not to mention the fact that I caught a good number of cutthroat there last time, made the decision all too easy. On top of all that, we would be fishing under a blue sky. "Consider this a lucky day, guys. This beach is almost never like this." Eagerly, they fanned out, reading the water and stripping flies through rips. You'd never guess that the majority of this group was first timers. Every now and then, a cuttie would jump just within reach as if to encourage them. A few were rewarded for their endeavors, getting a grab or two. I even got one. Though March is notorious for being tough in the salt, I don't think it mattered to them. After all, how tough can it be when the sun's shining, the wind's down and the fish are jumping? ;) Sunday, March 9th, 2008
Posted by Jon Aqui @ 08:27:33 pm
Bummed that the rivers are closed? Can't wait for the lakes to open? Might as well kill some time in the salt. :) If you want to broaden your horizons to fill the void known as March, join me on Friday the 14th for a quick rundown on fishing the local beaches. We'll cover all the basics and even take you fishing! Interested? Call Puget Sound Fly Co. at 253-839-4119. Hope to see some of you there!
Categories: Fly Fishing, Saltwater
Posted by Jon Aqui @ 08:20:57 pm
Where: Puget Sound Song of the day: "I've Been Everywhere," Johnny Cash Things started well enough--light wind, good rips and plenty of beach. But looks can be deceiving and as the class spread out I caught sight of the blustery clouds headed our way. I made my way around to each angler. "One hour. If things don't get better, we're moving." It took less than that for the clouds and the wind they rode on to overtake us. "So what'll it be guys? Point A or point B?" They voted for B and we headed out. Their judgment seemed sound upon arrival--no wind, good surface current and a few fishy looking rips. "Work down the beach to the right, guys," I said, pointing to some pilings.  "Anything, Tom?" He shook his head. "Not even a bump." I moved on to other class members.  Nothing here, either. And then, a glimmer of hope. Rich and I found a patch of water with good movement and we worked it thoroughly. As I reached the edge of the rip, I heard a shout. Rich had hooked up. Unfortunately, the fish popped off, but not before the others noticed. As the tide neared slack, we worked feverishly to drum up another bite. But to no avail. Forming a huddle on the beach we faced three undeniable truths: No fish, dead water and about half a day left of fishing. Fighting back my frustration with the less than ideal fishing, I suggested a lunch break. It was an opportunity to regroup and enjoy an otherwise beautiful day. "So...what do you guys think? Want to try point A?" Surprisingly, they nodded with enthusiasm and again, we were off. I don't usually take classes beach-hopping but today was clearly an exception. I was determined to get these guys into more fish. This time it worked out. This time, bumps were felt.  This time, fish were landed. :) By then, it was time to wrap things up. We all shook hands, bid each other a safe drive and went our separate ways. But Tom, who had ridden with me, was itching for a little more time on the water. I wasn't about to turn down more fishing so we checked a few more spots out and ran into a pair of familiar faces. Steve and Paul's fishing report knocked the remaining bits of frustration away as they, too, reported a slow day. "I'm glad it wasn't just us," Tom said. So was I.
Categories: Fly Fishing, Saltwater
Tuesday, March 4th, 2008
Posted by Jon Aqui @ 10:21:56 pm
Where: Puget Sound Song of the day: "The Seeker," The Who "I'll be 43 tomorrow." "Really? Where did the time go?" Albeit cliche, the question had a very real meaning to us. "Well, happy birthday, man." I had forgotten all about it. Nearly six years ago, I remember hopping in the Ford and driving down to what was to become our favorite beach. It was quite an adventure for the two of us--Jamie hadn't really fished for sea-runs before and I couldn't cast to save my life. Fortunately, the fish didn't hold it against us. :) From time to time, a good day of fishing goes beyond hook sets, hero shots and bumper sticker wit. This particular day turned into several years' worth of good fishing with a good friend.  Days like this. Sun, light wind and hungry fish! The birthday boy, late winter, 2004. ------------------------------------ After reflecting, I found it fitting that we were once again in search of cutthroat. Ironically, we had to work harder for them than we did years back. Not that it deterred us.  Here's to more years of searching for good fishing. :) Sunday, February 24th, 2008
Posted by Jon Aqui @ 07:40:01 pm
Where: Puget Sound Song of the day: "Groove Is In The Heart," Dee Lite "All three of us have old school lines today." Clark and Mitch had joined me in a little retro-style beach fishing. Though my equipment was certainly 21st century, its specifications were not. A full intermediate line, standard arbor reel and medium action rod formed this modern throwback to the days before Outbound shooting heads, large arbors and fast sticks like the Crosscurrent and Xi2. I even had a "classic" Ferguson Green and Silver tied on. Now you're probably wondering why a new-fangled gear junkie like me would use such an outfit in the salt. In response, I could wax on about how we sometimes need to step back from the quick pace of modernization and honor the rich lore and tradition of fly fishing, blah blah blah bla--zzzzz... While that may be a part of my motivation, it's a very, very miniscule portion of it. The truth is I was bored and wanted to try a new/old twist on something familiar.  And I had a new rod to break-in. ;) "Man, this looks really fishy," Clark said quietly. On any of the other days the Sound has offered us of late, he would have had to practically shout his opinion. But the day's calm carried his voice as if he stood right next to me. I nodded in agreement. Unfortunately, it was just an opinion. This particular beach wasn't willing to give up any fish, despite a few taps here and there. Rather than continuing to work the shore, we decided to move. And that's when the old school approach became more like a flashback. Sea-run cutthroat were the first species I pursued in the salt. Back then, I only plied beaches regarded as cuttie hotspots. As time progressed, new locations appealed to me, drawing me away from my old haunts. It just so happened that the beach we gazed at was one such "oldie but goody." In the first few minutes, I hooked one. Its shaking electrified the new rod and I celebrated with excited whoops. Unfortunately, my elation got the better of me and I wasn't paying attention to what the fish was doing. It charged me, allowing slack to build and soon, he was gone. As it swam off, my memories of this place resurfaced. And I remembered where I used to catch fish.  "Down to the left," I said to myself. Standing thigh-deep, I watched carefully, determining the speed and direction of the current. The tide moved at three distinct paces and I tried placing my cast on the outer edge of the fastest part. Then I let the fly swing through each section, counting. "One." "Two." "Three." I started to retrieve and felt a bump, but no hook up. "One more time." I cast again to the outside. "One." "Two."  I didn't get to three. :) Glad that memory had served me correctly, I kept working down current.  And found that guy's buddy...  And THAT guy's buddy...  And his little brother. :) After a few more hookups, I decided not to push my luck and got out. At first, I tried to simply enjoy the day. After all, the weather was great and I just finished playing with a pod of takers on a new rod. But looking out on all that fishy water was too tempting.  So I went back for one more. After all, I wasn't sure when I'd see this place again.  Off you go!
Categories: Fly Fishing, Saltwater
Monday, February 18th, 2008
Posted by Jon Aqui @ 09:19:26 am
Where: Puget Sound Song of the day: "Don't Look Back In Anger," Oasis "Wow, this place is beautiful." "That's what I thought my first time here. And today's perfect." The wind had died down over the past few days and the forecast predicted it would continue over the weekend. I hadn't had a tug in a while and the past few weeks of wind had gotten on my last nerve. Jamie's comment on the view from the shore stopped me from charging and casting away. He was right, it was beautiful--the sun hadn't been out like this since the fall, nor had we felt this kind of warmth since then. And the water? Glass. "It's supposed to be 50-ish today," I said, unzipping one of my extra layers. "Yeah, it's nice." Not much was being said--we were just too busy enjoying the day. We quietly waded out and worked the shoreline. "I just got a tug." "Good." Soon after, I had a few taps. They were here, all right. We made our way down to a point where the exchange runs over a shallow flat and pours into the deeper water. The swirls of the tide were all too apparent and I tossed a cast into the current, swinging the fly back into the beach. A tap, but this one stronger than the last. I cast again and waited a little longer before twitching the fly. The next touch wasn't a tap...  ...it was a grab! :)
Categories: Fly Fishing, Saltwater
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Fly fishing
About Jon: Ever since I caught my first 6-inch pogy on a spincast outfit, I’ve been hooked on fishing. During my freshman year of college, I picked up a book, a cheap fly outfit and a really crummy fly tying kit and proceeded to convince bluegill that my flies were better than the real thing. Practically 10 years later, my old Eagle Claw Featherlight has been replaced by a quiver of rods covering everything from small stream trout to big salmon and the bluegill have taken a backseat to sea-run cutthroat, resident silvers, fat desert trout and everything in between. If it swims, I’m in. Category
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