Where: The beach
When: Saturday
Conditions: Sunny, warm
Flies used: Clousers, a few experimental patterns
Species pursued: Sea run cutthroat, resident coho

Song of the day: "Extraordinary," Liz Phair

I almost jinxed us.

While winding up the class the night before, I casually mentioned that I haven't had a group yet that didn't have at least one of them hook up.

"As a group, I haven't been skunked yet."

Don't you hate it when the voice inside your head suddenly commandeers your mouth? :(

I probably wouldn't have made such a bold statement had it not been for the past three weeks of consistently solid beach fishing.

Just to be sure, the previous few days leading up to the class had Don and I running recon to ensure the beaches were still in shape.

We had decided to check out a new beach for comparison's sake...

...and found something unexpected--in a good way.

Unfortunately, we didn't find what we were looking for, leading us to believe that the fish were still holding where we last saw them.

Naturally, we had to confirm things. ;)

And confirm we did. :)

And confirm...

And double-checked. ;)

Having satisfied both our theory and our fish-greed, I figured it'd be a great time to take a class out to the salt.

Which brings me to the challenge at hand:

Getting these guys into fish and avoiding eating my words!

It didn't look good at first.

At our first stop, I observed a couple of rezzies jumping around, but we couldn't hook them.

Rather than push a bad situation, I opted for another area, but to no avail.

It also didn't help that a guy that was already there hooked and landed an 18 inch cuttie in front of half the class and then hooked another a few minutes later.

*Side note* Nice fish, John! It was good meeting you on the beach Saturday--sorry to crowd your fishing with the class!

Facing a possible skunking, I had no choice but to grind it out and hope that the fish we found earlier would show up and eat.

It wasn't looking good--the wind was starting to act up and we were running out of beach.

But as luck would have it...

Our little friends showed up and saved the day, after all!

Suddenly, fish worked the entire beach. Everyone had free shots at rezzies and cutties alike as they chased bait in and out of the rips.

In less than five minutes, we hooked four fish, one of which was the biggest cutthroat I had seen in a LONG time.

As I went up and down the beach, checking on each angler, I stopped to ask Nick how things had been.

"Hey Nick, how's it going? Any bumps?"

As he turned to answer, his line went tight.

Well, I guess that answers my question. ;)

It ended up being a great day, thankfully.

Given the amount of fish we saw in those few hours, combined with the consistency in fishing quality these past few weeks, I bet that this year's season will--

--never mind.

I wouldn't want to jinx it. ;)

Simply put: go hit a beach.

See you out there.

The fishing in the Sound is finally picking up.

Rumors are already flying around about this year's chum run.

While on vacation earlier this week, I had a chance to do some recon.

Some early chum are indeed starting to move through the salt and now through Thanksgiving would be the time to catch them.

Of course, if you're looking for something a little more manageable, the cutthroat and resident coho fishing is pretty solid right now.

If you haven't tried saltwater fly fishing yet, this is a good time to give it a shot.

This Friday I'll be offering an intro to saltwater fly fishing class at Puget Sound Fly co.

We'll not only cover the basics of sea-run cutthroat and resident coho fishing, but given the time of year, I'll also address how to target chum.

Classroom time is just the first half. The next day we'll go fishing, applying the information from the night before.

Class starts at 6PM and is $75. Call Puget Sound Fly Co. at 253-839-4119 to sign or inquire about future class dates.

Where: The beach
When: Sunday
Conditions: Sunny, warm
Flies used: Clousers
Species pursued: Sea run cutthroat, resident coho

Song of the day: "Satisfaction," Benny Benassi

"So every other weekend you can go?"

"Yeah."

After a busy summer, Jamie's schedule has finally opened up for some consistent fishing.

I wasn't able to catch up with him a few weeks ago, but I think this past weekend more than made up for it, as you'll see below:

A few casts into the day quickly produced this one.

On a new rod, no less! :)

The pattern would continue throughout the day--we'd see fish jump, we'd cast, and they'd eat.

Case in point. ;)

But, like with most good things, they must end, and after a few hours the wind crashed our little party.

"Oh well," I thought.

Nothing left to do but relax and revel in the satisfaction of a great morning of fishing...with a cigar, of course. ;)

Where: The beach
When: Sunday
Conditions: Overcast, slightly windy
Flies used: Clousers
Species pursued: Sea run cutthroat, resident coho

Song of the day: "Barracuda," Heart

"You planned this, didn't you?"

I smiled.

"Yup."

For the past 2 hours, we worked down a narrow stretch of beach, picking off members of this year's crop of resident coho, along with equal numbers of sea runs.

Though the setting was familiar, my approach was different, and so was I.

Dedication to something completely new usually comes at the cost of less time spent doing anything else. Even some of the things you love. Such has been the case this summer--I had mistakenly thought I could balance old and new but my obsession with spey and steelheading got the better of me.

I tried, but I couldn't overcome myself, much less the river's hypnotic influence.

"Where are they?"

"They HAVE to be here."

"I won't know if I don't try."

The constant push and pull of doubt and resolve shackled me.

I HAD to know. And the easiest way was to keep going back.

If I didn't catch anything, I reasoned it was because I wasn't good enough--not far enough out, not enough line control, not deep enough, not a small enough fly.

"Enough" became as elusive as my quarry. One could argue that they are one in the same.

And without either, I lost any motivation to write.

After all, how much failure can I dispense and how much of it can you read before we all get tired of it?

Yet in spite of what might be construed as resignation, I assure you that I won't be giving up on the two hander, or steelheading.

Rather, I've decided to blend elements of them into what I love the most:

The beach. :)

Today was more experiment than expedition: we wanted to see if two handers had a place in the salt, particularly at high tide.

Given the inconsistency of this year's beach fishing, however, we were doubtful of any success.

It felt good to be wrong. *Shout out to Yuhina: take a close look at the rod!*

With light speys in hand, we advanced down the shore, unhampered by the lack of backcast room.

At first it was a few little guys, mainly rezzies.

A good sign of things to come this winter.

Further down, we noticed something more substantial working some bait.

And coming our way.

"About 65 feet out," I told myself.

Out of habit, I looked behind me.

"That'd be tough with a 9-footer," I thought.

Not the case with this stick.

I threw an anchor down and wound up.

The clouser sailed out, landing where I judged the fish could see it.

Strip...strip

Strip.

"He's gotta be there."

Instinctually, I hunched over, focused on feeling for any hesitation.

I slowed the retrieve down.

"He HAS to be...

...there!"

From hookup to landing, the cutthroat reminded me of why I love the beach so much.

And while I'll always come back.