Where: The Sound
When: Sunday
Conditions: Calm, overcast, later windy
Flies used: Clousers
Species pursued: Sea-run cutthroat, Resident Silvers

Song of the day: "Lookin' Out My Back Door," Creedence Clearwater Revival

The tinny beeping of the alarm roused me from my troubled sleep.

Not more than a few hours beforehand, I had slumped into what has probably been the crummiest bed I've ever slept in my entire life.

Despite the grogginess and the typical congestion one experiences from a bit too much fun with fireworks, I would not be kept from the day ahead.

Several wrong turns and a quarter tank of gas later, I found my way to the launch.

"Just in time," I thought, pulling up to the familiar face to say good morning.

"Hi Jon!"

"Morning, Roger."

A day of fishing the South Sound from a boat, an admittedly rare occasion, became even more so given who I was about to spend the tide with.

I hadn't fished the area in a couple of years and even then, didn't know much about it save for a few productive spots.

Sadly, living in Seattle, combined with my affinity for the middle Sound wilted any further interest I might have had in exploring the southern territory more thoroughly.

By happy circumstance, however, I had the fortune to fish with one of the area's experts and experience the South Sound in the way I've always suspected it should be.

It might have been another day of fishing for Roger, but for me, it was an opportunity to compare notes and confirm or deny my assumptions about the differences between fishing from a boat and from the beach.

Starting at a nearby spot, we discussed the things we look for in a good beach, a few features of which were present at our current location.

As if to validate our conversation, we managed to land a few fish before moving on.

Throughout the rest of the day, I took note of how he handled the boat, the depth of the water he fished, which tides he preferred, etc., making mental checkmarks against things I also did and tucking away little nuggets to try out on subsequent outings.

That's not to say I didn't do much fishing, on the other hand. :)

And neither did Roger. It's not much of a picture because what you don't see is the chunky cutthroat he's releasing.

At the bottom of the tide, we decided to work back. The hope was to hit a few more spots on the way in, but the increasingly gusty wind wouldn't have it.

Forced to call it a day, we returned to the ramp.

I thanked Roger for his hospitality and slipped away, retreating to my thoughts about the day behind me.

I had concluded that there was still an intimidating amount of things to learn out there.

And I smiled.

Because that just meant more fishing. :)