Running and fishing?

It wasn't until we picked up our bags at the carousel that the awful feeling struck me. I left my flyrod on the airplane, parked a train ride away on the other side of airport security. My heart sank like a weighted nymph.

After a painfully slow negotiation at the baggage claim, I was handed a security pass and I sprinted through the airport O.J. style, hopped the train, ran upstairs and arrived at the gate slightly winded. The door had closed and my racing heart skipped a beat. I looked at the United staff with a desperate look. A smiling gate attendant reached behind the counter and there it was! Flyrod safe and sound.

When I got home my wife produced from the pile of waiting mail the latest copy of The Drake, by far my favorite fishing magazine. I love it because this poetic sport deserves a literary journal. I had almost forgotten, a letter I had written this fall about running and flyfishing ended up in the Winter 2012 edition.

I'm reading Trout Bum by John Gierach at the moment on my Kindle Fire. In my opinion Gierach is an outdoor writer of great distinction. With apologies to those who know the sport better than I, and who can write about it more knowledgeably, here's my first published contribution.

I landed in D.C. and headed immediately for the Urban Angler in Old Town Alexandria. I wanted to see what an East Coast fly shop looked like. There I picked up my first copy of The Drake.

I sat in my hotel room that night, pouring over your provocative articles and exhilarating photos. I even read every ad. For the first time in more than 30 years I was reminded of the first time I picked up a copy of The Runner. I was a track and cross country runner in the late '70s, and The Runner had its finger on the pulse of my sport and my generation.

To this day I read its successor, Runner's World, religiously. The Drake reminds me of the intensity and intimacy of those days in running just after the sport's boom, when running culture was being built.

Keep up the great writing. You may well be shaping flyfishing culture for generations to come.

A bass called (Christmas) Eve

Today's 55+ sunny December weather in the Tulsa area would qualify as a nice summer day in the Seattle area. I brought the 6-weight flyrod and some flies on our Texas-Oklahoma holiday journey, and suspected the fish might be active this afternoon.

Finally, on Christmas Eve, I caught two black bass in a pond just outside Tulsa in my hometown of Broken Arrow.

I used a Prince Nymph to help sink a trailing white Wooly Bugger. With the setting sun at my back, I stood beneath a tree at a headwater and cast into open waters. I caught a two-pound largemouth, and then a one-pound black on the very next cast.

Then nothing. But I was happy.

We left Seattle on Saturday, Dec. 17. On Sunday I fished Galveston Bay just north of Galveston. I threw Klausers and saw some small, silver and white fish but didn't get a bite. The little fish (a couple of pounds) were rolling over on the surface near the Houston Yacht Club. I'm told redfish come into the Bay.

On Wed., Dec. 21, I fished Town Lake in Austin. Town Lake, which is actually the Colorado River, has been renamed Lady Bird Lake. I did no advance research. I did observe a few gear fishermen, and saw what seemed to be some swirls out in the middle of the river/lake but didn't seem to get any bites.

Both Galveston Bay and Town Lake were beautiful settings, but they amounted to little more than casting practice.

Yesterday in Tulsa I had fished a smaller pond outside our family home, but did not use the nymph-wooly bugger combo. I also believe that I was stripping-in the line faster than necessary. Today I seemed to find the perfect combo of flies and stripping pace.

I texted some photos to my dad during the brief fishing trip. He's recovering from colon cancer surgery and so it was more than satisfying to catch fish and have a nice Christmas Eve exchange with my dad.

Today is my final day in the South, and I may walk down the Arkansas River to try my hand. Growing up in the area, I never heard of the Arkansas being very productive (even during the summer). But, hey, if it's warm and sunny on Christmas Day why not? Merry Angling Christmas.

Santa Cruz Seal

The sun sets on Half Moon Bay just after 4 pm this time of year. The days are agonizingly short. I had rigged my 6 wt. flyrod with a very pink squid pattern and made my way along the beach south toward the mouth of the San Lorenzo River.

With the Santa Cruz boardwalk's sullen scene of winterized roller costers and carnivals just behind me, I watched the waves crash just off shore in hopes that surf perch might be feeding in the wake, or better yet that I might find sea-run steelhead holding just offshore waiting for a ride into the San Lorenzo river (see picture).

I cast into the orange California sky and stripped-in line to the soft sound, I thought, of barking out in the water. Sure enough, a huge seal skated along the backside of the same waves I was fishing. He or she gave me a disdainful look and just kept swimming by. There is something energizing about standing waste deep in the surf with a large wild animal so close by.

As the sun sank into Pacific and darkness grew all around me I began to notice light bursts. At one moment the light would almost disappear and then suddenly it would reappear. It changed the energy in the water. I wonder what this phenomenon is called? It must be sun bursts or sunlight bouncing off the water. It was a free light show.

By know you know Nimrod's fishing prowess. I caught nothing. I learned a lot, and I enjoyed a new and amazing outdoor experience. But I have no fish to show for it. I do feel that I am getting better at things like casting, fly selection and reading water, but I am hardly a black belt flyfisherman.

Santa Cruz, California, sits on Half Moon Bay between San Francisco to the North and Monterrey to the South. The moment I learned I would be here for a conference I started researching whether a little fly fishing might be appropriate.

What I learned is that fishing is slow this time of year, but not nonexistant. I spoke by phone from Seattle with fly fishing manager Nathan at San Jose's Orvis, and I later stopped to talk with a fishing guide there on Santana Row. You can fish for surf perch with minnow and klauser patterns.  And on Wednesdays starting on Dec. 1 you can fish the San Lorenzo for steelhead. The San Lorenzo slices through Santa Cruz from the ocean up to the state park in the foothills leading back to San Jose. The flies of choice right now are anything pink, plus egg-sucking leeches.

I fished for surf perch on Monday evening, and then again from earliest daylight on Wed. (around 6:30 am) to about 8:30 am. I fished along the pier and then inside the mouth of the San Lorenzo. I improved my surf casting, but as far as I know I didn't get a single bite. At sunrise I saw my seal friend who seemed to look at me more pitifully this time.

Later in the afternoon I decided to drive outside of Santa Clara to find an upstream location on the San Lorenzo. For some reason I could not find the river outside of Santa Clara and instead stumbled upon the Zayante Creek (see photo), which I mistook for the San Lorenzo. I was especially encouraged when I saw a quaint old cafe called Trout Farm Inn.

I may get up early in the morning and try one more time. I'll let you know. I am hopeful but not optimistic. It's been too long since I pulled a fish in. Surely I am due.