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.