Where: The beach
When: Sunday
Conditions: Mostly sunny, warm, light wind
Flies used: Clousers
Species pursued: Resident coho, sea-run cutthroat

Song of the day: "Go Your Own Way," Fleetwood Mac

They say the sun can put the fish down, sending them to deeper, safer water.

When you think this through, it makes sense.

But if you're like me, and you're faced with weighing the option of a wasted, sedentary Sunday or one that presents even the smallest chance of a tug, you go anyway.

Besides, who wouldn't want to get out in the sun after such a bleak winter?

Not surprisingly, things started slowly--a beach I have been keeping tabs on over the past few months apparently has yet to turn hot. Rather than expend the effort in attempting to will a fish from the salt, I opted to move from beach to beach until either my interest (or cigars) ran out or, god forbid, I actually found some takers.

Things did seem promising at one spot; I stalked a recklessly feeding cutthroat close to shore and convinced him that my fly was better than what he was tearing into. Unfortunately, the magic quickly faded as a horde of rock-throwing kids descended upon me.

Again, rather than expending the effort, I jumped back in the car and headed somewhere else.

Somewhere quiet.

A little less than an hour, I plodded down the shore, watching for the typical signs of life.

Making my way around the point, I was greeted with an unexpected group of kayakers turned sunbathers.

"It's cutthroat season, dude! Good luck out there!" one of them said, flashing me a thumbs up.

I gave him my best thumbs up in return and thanked him for the well wishes.

Staring into the sun, I let my eyes adjust, scanning, hoping for an opportunity to target a fish.

At this point in the day, it was either find a fish or light a cigar and join the sunbathers.

Before I could reach for my lighter, a silver flash breached the surface, 25 yards down tide.

I popped my fly off the stripping guide, tore off a bunch of line, all the while moving toward where the fish landed.

A few false casts for direction and line speed and off it went, landing near the outer edge of the slim rip.

I didn't get the chance to start a retrieve.

So much for my tan!

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Well, I was going to finish this story last night, but got sidetracked by a virus alert sooooo...I'll have to leave you all with this image, one I was fortunate enough to send to myself before this mishap:

One of the highlights of the day.

With any luck, this virus mess will be all cleared up and I'll be back early next week.

In the meantime, enjoy the fishing this weekend!