Where: Puget Sound
When: Saturday
Conditions: Calm at first, turning to snow, then rain then raging wind
Flies used: Various clousers, shock & awe, white wooly bugger, foul free herring
Species pursued: Resident coho

Song of the day: "Are You Gonna Go My Way," Lenny Kravitz

As I looked around the table, a bit of nervousness came over me.

The class featured enthusiasm and eagerness to learn mixed with a bit of skepticism.

The Sound is a big place, after all.

To many, I'm sure fly fishing from the beach seems the most ineffective way to go about things.

And with the way fishing's been this winter, the potential to reinforce that presumption couldn't be any higher.

Hence my anxiety.

"They're saying it's going to snow tomorrow," someone mentioned.

Great.

Slow fishing in crummy weather. That's as bad as it gets--only the dedicated (or the insane) would suffer that for more than a couple of hours.

I shook off my doubts and started covering the class material. By 8:30 we were into Q&A and the time had come to present the next day's plan.

I chose to avoid an early start and a high beach and went with 10AM, keeping my fingers crossed that the weather would hold and the fishing would improve.

"If you don't hear from me by 8:30, we're on. I'll see you all there."

Joe, Brad, Paolo, Barb, Jamie and Steve shuffled into the night as I hung back to put things away and discuss the odds of success with Anil.

"Well, they say it's supposed to snow at night, not during the day."

"They've been right about things lately, so let's hope they keep that up..."

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Ten o'clock brought the class to the field, stripping baskets on and intermediate lines ready to go.

The fishing gods granted my wishes--no wind and no ominous clouds. It was just a matter of choosing the right water.

After casting and line management tips, I took a consensus.

"You folks up for a drive?"

They nodded and before long, a six-car caravan wound its way over a bridge then down a thin road to a well-loved beach.

"Check that out, guys!" I pointed to a huge rip forming in front of the beach.

"Just like in the class."

The conditions were perfect--still no wind and a steady outgoing tide. Just the right speed to hold fish while uncovering enough shoreline for them to cast.

The game was on.

Everyone rigged up their rods and made a dash to the water.

"To the left, everyone!"

Lines cut through the still air and swung through the current.

They had to be here, my gut told me so.

Half an hour.

Nothing.

Last night's doubt started to creep into my thoughts.

"How often does it really all come together?" I asked myself.

Odds were they wouldn't. They hadn't yet, why would that change now?

A splash.

Too far.

Two more.

A little closer.

"Barb, to your left!" I yelled, pointing my rod.

Brad saw the same thing.

I ran down the beach, ducking under the tree.

"I just had one," Brad announced.

"Awesome, let's catch some fish!"

Scanning the water, I thought I saw a sipper.

"Screw it," I thought, stripping line off the reel. I made a guess as to where they might be.

A tap, a jump and a loss.

"Aw, I just lost that guy!"

Brad nodded in recognition--no longer was the Sound a large, intimidating place. There WERE fish here.

And we would catch them! :)

As I played this fish, similar excitement came from down the beach. Barb had hooked one, as well.

A double? On class day? Maybe the stars would align, after all.

I landed the fish just as it began to snow. The little silver bar wriggled in the dull, gray daylight.

The sudden snowfall muted all surrounding noise, making everything nearby clearer and closer.

"This is what we came for," I said.

The snow picked up, then switched to rain and back. It didn't matter.

At least not to Doug! :)

The fish were here, after all; happy enough to show themselves...

...and even happier to eat our flies. ;)

As the tide slacked out, I encouraged everyone to grab a bite and warm up. We'd get back on the water as soon as it started to move again.

Unfortunately, the water wasn't the only thing that intended to move.

My old friend W-I-N-D decided to crash our little party. And it was nice enough to bring heavy rain along with it.

Despite the weather's best efforts, it wasn't enough to ruin the day.

Given how this month's been, I was happy to get even half a day like this on the beach.

Good fishing with everyone that attended, I'm sure I'll be seeing you on the beach. :)

Where: Puget Sound
When: Sunday
Conditions: Calm at first, then blustery
Flies used: Various clousers, snot dart
Species pursued: Resident coho

Song of the day: "Self Esteem," Offspring

"I think you brought the wind with you."

Mike was right--just as I stepped onto the beach, the wind kicked up.

Hard.

It wasn't that way earlier, though.

The day had started out well enough: warmer temps, no wind (for a change) and a promising looking beach.

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Now to choose the right fly. Eeny Meeny, Miney...

Moe!

Well, at least it was "moe" last time.

Unfortunately, this particular stretch wasn't ready to hold fish just yet.

Aiming to head to greener pastures, Bryan and I headed to the typical spot.

Only to find that we were too late.

Not only had the wind come up (our fault, of course), but...

"Dave slayed down there. I hooked about 6 of them."

It was good to see Jay--I had heard from Robbi that they'd been able to scratch out a few rezzies, but nothing super hot.

"They were about 70-80 feet out and bit at the very end of the cast. I didn't even have to strip."

He showed me his fly.

I drew up some mental notes for tying one up later.

"Which way were they headed?"

"That way."

He pointed north.

We'd just come from up there. Dang. :(

Just as our hopes began to swell from Dave's report, the wind crushed them.

You know how you can hear a train coming before it roars past? That's exactly how it was. Except the train lasted the afternoon.

"Oh well, we're already here," I said and made an effort to throw a few, futile casts.

As you'd expect with my luck of late, nothing happened. Not even a nibble.

I drew solace in the fact that it was sunny, I was outside and Bryan had brought some cigars.

That's why they call it fishing and not catching! ;)

"Sorry, Sunday's out for me, I have plans."

"Well, we'll be out in the morning and we'll let you know how we did."

"All right, good luck out there."

No fishing this weekend, folks, despite Sunday's respite from the wind--sometimes your schedule just doesn't match up with the fishing conditions. :(

Besides that, the flu touched me this past week and I've been recovering since. Still not feeling 100% and with Saturday's gusty conditions, I decided to bag any notion of hitting the beach.

On the brighter side of things, there are some reports of rezzies being caught, though not in any great numbers yet. Maybe they're late this year or maybe their numbers aren't as great.

In either case, my gut tells me that things will get better as this month progresses.

If this is your first year hitting the beaches or want to get started, I'll be teaching a class at Puget Sound Fly Co. on the 25th. We'll cover basics and then go over casting, line management and actual presentation the next day on the beach.

Interested? Give Anil or Clark a call at 253-839-4119 to sign up.

Where: Puget Sound
When: Monday and Tuesday
Conditions: Calm, sunny
Flies used: Pink over white and chartreuse over white clousers
Species caught: Resident coho

Song of the day: "Slow Ride," Foghat

Wind.

A most hated nemesis.

For the past few weeks, W-I-N-D had spoiled my attempts at finding the rezzies.

Or any fish, for that matter.

But yesterday morning showed a reprieve.

"If the weather holds, I'm going out," the e-mail read.

Someone was reading my mind.

"But where are the rezzies? I haven't heard anything from the usual places and the wind's kept me away from the beach."

"They're around, you just have to go to ????. I'll meet you there."

I thanked her for the directions and put the Playstation controller down.

It was time to get back on the water.

The mission was simple: find rezzies and catch one more fish before the year ends.

Better get started--there isn't much time left!

I made my way down the beach, scanning for the telltale signs. No wind, a receding tide and...

"Behind you!"

...hope.

I worked my line out and cast toward the rise form.

Nothing.

A longer cast, maybe.

Nada.

One more time.

A tap, then a grab.

Gone.

Come on!

I worked out to a shallow point, gaining access to more water.

Eat it, eat it...

Tap, tap.

I slowed down.

Eatiteatiteatiteatit!

A hard tug and head shaking confirmed it.

Looks like I'm ending the year on a happy note! :)

A couple of fish and many short strikes later, Robbi and I headed back to the pullout.

Another year finished.

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"You gotta be kidding me!"

He forgot his rod.

"No big deal, you'll be on the OP tomorrow. Come on, let's check the beach out, anyway."

Unlike yesterday, this was a usual haunt.

Cleats clicked and scraped on the rocks as we talked about the year.

"Remember that one year here?"

"Yeah, that was crazy--I had just missed you that day and I still caught a ton. That was about three years ago."

"It was?"

"Yeah--how long has it been now? Four, five years?"

"Uh huh."

"Man, things have changed..."

"Uh huh."

"I'm going to the Bahamas again this year. We're looking to put a good group together."

He smiled.

"That would be so much fun."

I looked over the water, reflecting on the past year.

Change, indeed.

For all of us.

Despite that, the circle remains tight, even as it expands--fishing creates an easy bond.

And that promises that the years of life will be full of adventure, big and small. :)

Today was a continuation of that.

The conversation about who we'd be voting for was broken by the boil.

I tossed the clouser just past it, hoping to swing it through the fish's path.

No luck.

This was starting to look like yesterday.

Then a grab.

Lost.

Jeez!

"That fish looked bigger than the one that jumped."

"We'll never know..."

Minutes later, another hookup.

And another loss.

By then, the tide was at its peak.

It didn't matter, the tug was enough.

And the weekend's only a few days away. :)

Here's to another fish-filled year...