Where: The Sound, an "S" River
When: The past two weekends
Conditions: Sunny and calm on the Sound; Calm and overcast turning to blustery and sunny on the river
Flies used: Clousers in the salt, various spey flies on the river
Species pursued: Coho then changing up to steelhead

Song of the day: "Just Dropped In (To See What Condition My Condition Was In)," Kenny Rogers & The First Edition

"Now why am I telling you all of this?"

I was trying to digest everything he'd been saying for the past few minutes and his question disrupted my train of thought.

All I could muster was in response was a less-than-intelligent, "Ummm..."

"Fish the change up."

I nodded, understanding the logic behind his methodology and filed the advice, along with the details comprising it, in the back of my head for later application.

Ironically, "the change up" is what brought me to his shop, not so much in search of guidance but more for a change of venue.

A spring and summer spent exclusively in the salt had entrenched me in a rut I needed desperately to climb out of.

It was time for a break, time to slow down.

It was time go steelheading.

Not the most productive way to spend the precious weekend hours if you look at it from a numbers perspective. Then again, I've come to find the reward in steelheading lies more in its meditative qualities than the tailing of said quarry.

Swinging a fly through a run is the ideal balance to the frenetic pace of beach fishing--no hauling, no strip-strip, no wide, intimidating expanse of water.

Just cast, swing, step, repeat. A rhythm that takes you from first light to noon in the blink of an eye. And despite the sudden passing of time, you feel no more exhausted than you would be from taking a 6 hour nap.

That's what ran through my head the previous weekend as I plied the rips, no tugs to my name save the usual suspects:

You guessed it!

No outing is complete without one of these, either.

A week later, I stood in the shop, a morning of swinging behind me. Luck had been generous--I had gone 0 for 2. Shameful, I know, but I had them on long enough to enjoy the fight, at least.

New lines in hand (heh, I know, I can't help myself!) and several pearls of wisdom later, I emerged from the shop, rejuvenated: I had peered over the edge of rut and found fresh air.

Would I be back for more?

You bet.