Where: The beach
When: Saturday and Sunday
Conditions: Sunny, warm on Saturday; rainy, windy and cold on Sunday
Flies used: An experimental pattern and an old standby
Species pursued: Sea run cutthroat, resident coho

Song of the day: "Back In Black," AC/DC

"I'll plan on seeing you at 7:30."

His message didn't show any signs of trepidation, despite some of the obstacles that the beach presented on this particular day: an early morning high tide, a weak outgoing exchange and a heavily sloping beach.

Translation: not much current and little to no backcast room.

Given those as fair warning, BJ persisted--a quality I think any of us can admire in an angler and one that I was glad to observe before we hit the water.

Technical challenges aside, the next morning offered otherwise ideal conditions.

Minutes into fishing, we spotted a happy shoal of rezzies boiling close to shore. Scanning right and left, we also noticed two more good signs: no one else around and no wind.

As if that wasn't good enough, the clear sky and morning sun provided an uncharacteristically balmy day on the Sound.

The game was on.

"Try to cast more along the shore than straight out from it," I advised.

Slipping quietly into the water, I cast my experimental offering into the water, which was met with an immediate strike.

A little cuttie came to hand, apparently happy to keep the rezzies company as they cruised the shore.

Content that the new pattern worked, I shifted my attention to BJ, who was busy taking shots at the same pod.

I could tell that his focus matched his persistence.

One of these fish was going to eat his fly and he wasn't going to stop until it happened.

Well, you know what they say about persistence...

If you don't, here's your answer. ;)

Willing fish on a warm, clear day--what more could you ask for on a day trip to the Sound?

Well...

How about more fish?

For a longer time than it seemed, BJ and I worked up and down the beach, intercepting fish here and there.

After a while, the consistency in hookups diminished and we suddenly found ourselves taking fewer shots at less fish which, by the way, had become increasingly finicky.

Now the real game was on--could we still catch these picky pocket rockets?

Given my companion's determination and a few other tricks, we were more than happy to respond to that question, as well.

I don't think this guy liked our answer, though. ;)

Not long after, the tide carried in a mass of leaf litter and assorted debris, forcing us off the water. I'm sure, though, if that hadn't happened, BJ's enthusiasm would have had us fishing into the night.

Inspired by his never-quit attitude and the frequent sighting of a particularly large cutthroat that day, Don and I returned the next morning.

For some reason, we couldn't bring ourselves to stay out very long--the fact that neither of us is as energetic as BJ probably had something to do with it. :)