It's nice to know that some people weren't afraid of this weekend's foul weather.

Not the type of scene that would get me excited about fishing, but to each their own. :)

Snow and who-knows-what-else aside, Clark and Tyler made it out for some steelheading with the centerpin.

If you're not familiar with centerpinning, I encourage you to google it, there are a ton of youtube videos circulating on the subject.

The easiest way I can explain it is nymphing on steroids. It isn't fly fishing, but that doesn't mean skill isn't involved. Quite the contrary.

And for their efforts and tenacity, both Clark and Tyler were rewarded with these bright, shiny objects:

Once again, the old adage applies--nothing ventured, nothing gained.

Nice work, guys.

I guess I'll be getting a pin setup this year... ;)

Where: The beach
When: Saturday
Conditions: Sunny, then overcast, windy, cold
Flies used: Dave's Frank Fly, experimental patterns, clousers
Species pursued: Resident coho

Song of the day: "The Warrior's Code," Dropkick Murphy's

The forecast called for 10 mph winds all day.

Given that, I had no reason to be surprised at the buffeting we received as we wet our lines.

Nonetheless, the urge to cast headlong into the gusts took over as fish slashed and swirled ridiculously close to shore.

Ignoring the grim possibility of catching a fly in the face, we threw into the breeze.

And were rewarded with this double.

During a flurry I'm sure only lasted minutes but seemed like an hour, we reveled in fish after fish.

And we weren't the only ones. Isn't that Chris' spot, Mike? ;)

Everyone got in on the action.

At the right place, at the right time!

Just when we thought it might not end, the fish disappeared and soon after, the wind became unbearable.

"It's still early, want to do some exploring?"

Don and John nodded as if to say, "Of course."

And before we knew it, we'd made it to three more beaches...

...each of them productive...

...before calling it a day and chowing down on some well-earned chips and salsa.

Not a bad way to end day full of rezzie hunting.

Where: The beach
When: Sunday
Conditions: Foggy, calm
Flies used: Dave's Frank Fly, experimental patterns
Species pursued: Resident coho

Song of the day: "That's When I Reach for My Revolver," Mission of Burma

The fog horn ushered in the unusually warm Sunday morning.

In the muted light and under a dense fog, I scrambled to jump into my waders and string up.

Dave, Mike and Chris had gotten a headstart before the gate opened.

"See you down there!"

"Ah, well, serves me right for getting here after them," I reasoned.

Finally rigged up, Don and I made our way to the water, my cleats ticking on the concrete path.

Negotiating the deadfalls along the shore, we made it to where the jumpers were...as well as everyone else. :)

Just in time to snap this pic of Chris!

"This is my second one!"

"Nice," I replied, noticing that Dave had also hooked up downtide.

From there, things blur together--fishing three tidal exchanges will do that to you.

Here's a visual recap:

How things started.

A nice blackmouth for Don.

A closer look at the same fish.

Some of this year's rezzies are chunky!

Even more fly testing.

Trying to squeeze a few more in before it gets dark.

Last call!

From dusk on is when my memory kicks back in.

That's when I really started to struggle. It wasn't like last week--these fish were not in the mood for my offering.

After considerable effort and with great difficulty, I managed to land a few fish.

And so did Don...

But the night really belonged to Mike who completely SCHOOLED us.

This is just one of the many he produced Sunday night. Nice work, Mike!

By the end of the night, Mike had lost count. His smile, like John's last week, said it all: pure satisfaction.

"This is nothing like last year!" he exclaimed.

"Not even close," I said. Not by a long shot.