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Fly Fishing

Category: Saltwater

Nov.
10th

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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Nov.
2nd

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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May
13th

Eking it out

When: The past two weekends

Where: The beach

Conditions: Breezy but fairly warm

Species pursued: Sea-run cutthroat

Song of the day:  “Faint,” Linkin Park

Being sick is never fun; much less so when the sun is bright and the weather has finally warmed up.

Unfortunately, such was the case this past weekend.  Having to work in the typical rat maze of cubicles indicative of any Korporate Amerikan environment, one can only hope to avoid the various coughs, sneezes and other assorted maladies that you’ll find circulating in such a place.

As the ever-anticipated weekend grew closer, so, too did

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April
11th

Dealing with a skunk

Where: The Sound

When: The past few weekends

Species pursued: Anything at this point

Song of the day: “Superstitious,” Stevie Wonder

I believe the saying is “It’s better to be lucky than good.”

But what happens when your luck runs out?

That seems to be a question I’m trying to find a positive answer to.

As I headed into another weekend of searching for fish, I had to face the  idea that whatever knack I may have had for fishing has now blown up in smoke.

For those that know me, I am a superstitious man when it comes to

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Feb.
8th

Weekend at the vise: worms

I had honestly planned on fishing.

Come late Friday night, however, whatever plans I’d dreamt up for the weekend disintegrated as a massive lack of motivation took over.

Instead of preparing for my would-be adventure, I found myself poring over various bits of info on the good ol’ Interwebs.

Specifically, I was piecing together people’s opinions on and efforts during the spring salt fishery.  Yes, there’s the typical chum fry migration, but last year, there was quite a buzz around another spring event–worm “hatches.”

I ignored it mostly, having been familiar with this particular food source, but never choosing to

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