Where: The beach
When: Saturday
Conditions: Windy
Flies used: Clousers
Species pursued: Resident coho

Song of the day: "My Own Worst Enemy," Lit

Carefully aiming my backcast between debris and in between gusts, I realized I had overestimated a few things.

First, I was off by about 45 minutes on the tidal exchange and second, I didn't think a 6 mph wind would be so troublesome.

And thirdly, I forgot that I'm no longer in my twenties--long nights of carousing aren't regularly scheduled events anymore. A few hours of sleep would probably have served me better than catching a face full of rain and wind.

But where's the fun in sitting around at home sleeping it off?

To quote an old Sage ad, "Sleep when you're dead."

And although a bit groggy, I was far from dead. On the contrary, I was firmly in the land of the living, as the jolt at the end of the line confirmed.

Better than aspirin!

Despite everything, I had managed to find a pocket of shelter and luckily, it held fish. Lots of them.

Like this one.

I'd originally committed to staying for a couple of hours, but the fishing didn't let up as daylight gave way to darkness.

Before I knew it, I had my headlamp on, charging a glow clouser.

In the last sliver of light, I saw another school approach.

So much for a couple of hours!