Where: The beach
When: Saturday
Conditions: Mostly sunny, calm
Flies used: Experimental patterns, clouser, wooly bugger
Species pursued: Sea-run cutthroat, resident coho

Song of the day: "Chop Suey," System of a Down

The price of chum eggs is especially high this year and netters are responding accordingly.

Rather than fight for what few chum are heading into the bay right now, I opted for plan B: a sea-run/resident coho hunt.

Scott, Brian, Mike and Jake were happy to oblige and soon we were caravaning to what was arguably the exact opposite of the Chico zoo:

A beach devoid of anyone else, hosting a fairly steady stream of hungry fish of all shapes, sizes and species.

Things were a bit rocky at first. Pinpointing a school was difficult--a single would jump 60 feet out, only to have a different one jump 20 feet to your left.

We roamed around, trying to interecept one, then another as the tide started to flood the flat. I hoped the current's building pace would concentrate the fish as it had done for me in the past. Until then, fishing would be a scattered affair, involving quick, accurate shots at different distances, most of which were either too far or too close for you to deal with effectively.

Rather than endure such frustration, I figured a break was called for, and given the recent heavy rains, today was an exceptional day to do so. The sun coaxed whatever warmth remained this fall out for one more appearance. Absence of wind naturally doubled my appreciation, making this one of the days we salt water folks dream about when the wind's hurling freezing rain barbs at your face while you try to dodge your fly between gusts.

Of course, me being the malcontent I am, I had to think of a way to make things even better.

"It'd be nice if a few pods showed up," I thought.

Well, sometimes I get what I ask for.

Before long, fish surrounded us.

Giving Mike the opportunity to score his first saltwater catch! Congratulations, Mike!

Rezzies and cutthroat alike boiled in the shallows uninhibited as they chased their prey down.

Hooking the fish was easy, but keeping them stuck was an entirely different matter.

Jake watched me hook a particularly nice rezzie, only to lose it after getting it within arm's reach.

My disappointment didn't last long. Something else prowled the flat; something bigger. It wasn't your typical feisty fish, though. Rather than jumping, this one would boil, careful not to reveal itself. But even the most cautious fish has trouble masking its presence in 18 inches of water.

Trailed by two smaller fish, I hoped that that my last cast would make it to the big one's maw before the others'.

Remember what I said about occassionally getting what I ask for?

Sometimes it happens twice in a day!

The chum run may have been cut short folks, but the sea-runs and rezzies are just getting started.