Ever since reading a few years back about surfperch, I've wanted to catch one. The idea of a beautiful, strong little fish living in abundance right along the Pacific shore is attractive to the fly fisherman. What could be better fishing than to wade out a little ways from the beach, cast into the surf and feel the tug of a fish.
There are some obstacles. First you need to be near ocean surf. Although I live in Seattle, I am a good 150 miles from the ocean, and it would take well over 4 hours to drive there. Next you need to know the right fly and how it should behave in the surf. Here my flyrod nimrodness tells you about everything you need to know. I don't have a clue.
On a recent overnight business trip to Carlsbad, California, I threw in the 6 weight and some light tackle. I read a few articles, watched a few videos, and -- importantly -- stopped by a local tackle shop to ask some questions. Pacific Coast Bait & Tackle in bordering Oceanside is a bustling little shop full of fishermen. I sauntered in and started talking to people. Mostly they pointed me to grubs, then to a few fly patterns. Then I finally found the proprietor, a guy who knows surf fishing. He set me up with the hooks and grubs below -- one motor oil color and the other sand crab color. I also bought a t-shirt.
On Thursday evening, as the sun was setting, I found a little piece of beach where I had observed some small birds earlier. There were plenty of rocks in the area which I had read was good for breaking shells and other bait. The guy at the bait store said to stand in knee-high water and just let the grub "loll around in the surf." I cast out into the foamy white water and just let the ocean current take it in and out.
Around 7 in the evening as the sun was setting I felt a strike but no consistent fight. I lifted the road and fish on. I stipped the little guy on the beach and let it go. I cast back out and after a few tries had one a little bigger on the line. I took the photo below of the second one, lying comfortably in the basket I use to strip line into.
The takes are pretty subtle compared to the draw of the ocean current itself. I learned that you really have to keep a slightly tight line as the current pushes and pulls it. Both takes were on the outgoing wave.
Surfperch fishing beats sitting and walking on the beach.
With darkness gathering all around me, I climbed the considerable cliff back up to the road and ambled across my hotel parking lot. A tipsy fellow walked out of the hotel bar.
"What the hell are you fishing for this time of year?"
"Whales."
His eyes got bigger than the rim of a highball glass as I laughed and kept on walking.
FOOTNOTE
On a March visit to Phoenix I read about a little pond near my hotel -- the Evelyn Hallman Pond in Tempe. I threw in my 5-wt and fished the stocked pond late one evening. Carp, bass, trout and catfish were in the offing. This little bluegill was the reward for a long cast into a shadowy piece of water near the central island. I sunk a wooly bugger and retrieved it slowly.
