Fly Fishing

Fly Fishing


Winter break: Clousers and Sun

Where: The beach

When: The past two weeks or so

Species Pursued:  Whatever was out there

Flies used: Various clousers, conehead squid, chum baby

Song of the trip: “7-29-04 The Day Of,” David Holmes, from the Ocean’s 12 Soundtrack

I think I could get used to vacationing in the Caribbean during the winter.

Like last year, I had accrued an abundance of time off and had to find a way to burn it before year’s end.

Seeing as how I had such a great time the previous winter, St. John was an easy choice.

Now about getting that

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Knocking some rust off

Where: The beach

When: Sunday

Species Pursued: Sea-run cutthroat, resident coho

Song of the trip: “How You Like Me Now?”  The Heavy

Last Sunday’s taste of success had me obsessing the entire week.

I needed proof that I wasn’t just lucky that day.

As the weekend came within reach, the pull intensified–I was going to the beach and nothing would stop me.

With Gore-Tex packed and a 5 weight fast enough to deal with the forecasted 8 mph breezes, I slipped into the early morning darkness.

The first stop was to be expected–too much of a headwind to make

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Forcing the issue

Where: The beach

When: Sunday

Species Pursued: Sea-run cutthroat, resident coho

Song of the trip: “One of These Mornings,” Moby

I am at the point of desperation.

Knowing that the forecast called for wind and rain, I plotted a course that I hoped would keep me out of harm and frustration’s way.

But beach after beach presented the same problem.  Though rain was nowhere to be found, wind appeared in abundance.

Too much abundance.

I couldn’t find a shore that faced the right direction, so I settled for a small chunk of beach with a barely tolerable breeze and

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Escape to the Dryside

Where: Snoqualmie River, Methow River

When: Last Friday through Thursday

Species Pursued: Steelhead

Song of the trip: “Texarkana,” R.E.M.

It’s the middle of September and I suddenly realize that I have four weeks of vacation left to burn.  Understandable, given that fishing this year hasn’t warranted a need to take time off and temporarily live the dream.

Still, there’s something unmistakable about the feel of Fall; a sentiment that permeates everything, chilling your hands in the crisp morning air then later warming your face in the afternoon sun.  With every fire-orange leaf that falls during the dwindling warmth, you’re

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Summer’s end

The deluge pounded away at the rain fly.


11:34 PM.

1:16 AM.

3:53 AM.

Then nothing, save for the occasional droplets coming off the branches above.

Summer had come to an end–Nature had signaled so.

Fickle, stingy and downright miserable are words you could use to describe the fishing; no surprise given how things went in the Spring.

Rather than let the negativity stew, I decided to focus on skill development over the past few months, specifically with the two-hander.

I did get some fishing done here and there, but for the most part, I’ve been going to “summer

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