Year of the trout

The strike and then the subsequent heavy weight on the rod was unlike anything I've felt in the Snoqualmie River. In my brief experience, this is considered a small fish river.

Monday evening, as bright grey turned to dark grey, I had a big fish on just beneath the bridge in Fall City.

Streamflows have continued to decline during this dry, New Year's weekend. Starting around 2 pm I had walked up and then downstream until I found a patch of water where small rainbows and/or steelhead were rising and biting. I had a few small ones hooked, but the 6-weight rod was too much. I chose the heavier rod because the wind had picked up.

Around 3:30, with temperatures hovering just below 50, I cast at a 45-degree angle and then walked downstream at the pace of the river letting the nyph drift. In the shadow of the bridge, I felt the hard strike and lifted the rod high. I slowly stripped in line and enjoyed a pretty good fight. I could see the fish (probably a hatchery steelhead) approaching when it turned to show me it's considerable silver side -- I'd say 12-13 inches -- then suddenly the line went slack. I've heard numerous flyfishermen say they wanted to jump in after the fish at that point, and so did I.

I take away from today that I finally started to become a flyfisherman. I'm becoming a little more discerning and the fish are getting a little bigger. I am thinking more about the flies I use. I read the water more carefully. I lay the line down on the water more gingerly. I cast again and again, each time thinking about what the fish is seeing beneath the water. I lose track of time.

Yesterday, New Year's Day, I had a pass from the family to go fishing longer than usual. After studying streamflows, tide charts and calling multiple fly shops, I decided to fish for searun cutthroat trout along Purdy Spit near Gig Harbor. I have tried for these beautiful fish many times in the past, but failed to land one.

High tide was 10:16 am and the first sunrise of 2012 was around 8 am. I figured I'd drive the hour from Bellevue to Gig Harbour and be on the water just after sunrise. By 9 am, as I fished on the soutside of Purdy Spit bridge, a local asked if it was my first time on the water. Yes, I acknowledged, and he pointed across the narrow spit to the other side. "Traditionally that's where I see the fishermen. In fact, I see a few fish rising over there now."

I walked hurriedly back to the car (a good mile) and dropped back into the water behind a service station. I could see the occasional fish swirl and jump.

As worked the shoreline and got close to tree near the opening to a creek, I saw a good sized searun rising. At one point he jumped completely out of the water and I could admire the athleticism of these fish. The athlete was taunting me.

I threw everything in my box. Nothing. Finally, I pulled out a pinkish colored, mid-sized clouser. On the second cast, bam, a hard strike followed by the best struggle I've had with a flyrod.

My first coastal cutthroat trout! 13-14 inches and absolutely gorgeous. These fish are precious and strictly catch and release. I quickly returned the fish to water, holding it beneath the belly until it swam away.

The day prior, on the last day of 2011, I was in the Puget Sound at Golden Gardens about 7:30 am in the false dawn. I fished the pebbly point just north of the marina as the tide rose. I walked north to the boulders along the railrod tracks.

I was stalking native Coho and sea-run cutthroats, or even a blackmouth salmon, but nothing struck.

I have a water thermometer but the air temperature was so cold I couldn't grip it in the satchel. What good is a water thermometer if you can't even pull it out of your bag to gage the water temperature?

I was cold, but the water was beautiful. The nearby sea lions were raising hell and the Olympic mountains emerged like something from a Tolkien novel in the distant West. I'm sure I looked like a hobbit (or a Nimrod) out there flailing about!

At the beginning of 2012, I have been a flyfisherman for just 18 months. But over the past 5 months I've managed to fish roughly 25 days -- a little better than a day per week.

My fish-caught to days-fished ratio is pretty poor (unless we throw in the 15-20 pinks I caught on Oct. 1 in the Sky). Since I'm mostly a trout fisherman, I'd have to call this an intensive learning period.

I've caught my share of small, young trout in the parr phase, but have yet to land a big beautiful trout. Today was a step in the right direction.

Oddly, one of my best trout hooked (but not landed) was a reasonably large rainbow I watched sipping the surface one morning at sunrise with my son on the North Fork of the Snoqualmie near North Bend. He or she was beneath a tree and my Nimrod flyfishing skills were put to the test. This was one of my first solo trips so I was pretty excited. I chose the time, the water, the fly and the location. Upon reflection I made pretty good left-handed, upstream cast and the rising trout took my drifting dry fly. I hadn't the skills to simply raise my rod and play the fish. Insted, I jerked it right out of its mouth like I did as kid fishing for bass with a lure.

As I said, my skills are getting better, and I feel poised for a prosperous new year.