After a months of getting my butt kicked flyfishing for steelhead on a couple of inland fisheries close to home, it was time for a serious change up. (A solid week of 90 degree plus days also helped me make my decision) It was time to head for the coast.
I had decided to fish the tidal section of a north coast river known for having a good run of searun cutthroat. I cut my fly fishing teeth fishing for searuns, and after a decade of ignoring them for bigger quarry, I have come back to them with renewed spirit. They aren't hard to catch if they are around and the elements are on your side.
I had decided to fish the tidal section of a north coast river known for having a good run of searun cutthroat. I cut my fly fishing teeth fishing for searuns, and after a decade of ignoring them for bigger quarry, I have come back to them with renewed spirit. They aren't hard to catch if they are around and the elements are on your side.
This morning the elements were on my side. Cool, overcast with a bit of drizzle. Low tide at dawn. Perfect. It didn't take long for the first fish to attack my little spruce fly. Then another, and another, and.... it went on all morning. The fish were there.
I lazily paddled from pool to pool fishing my way down to tidewater. Once reached, I fished my way back as the tide flooded. A chinook fisherman watched his bobber swirl in a deep black tidewater pool. There were no evidence of chinook in the river, but he said he didn't feel like fighting the crowds down closer to the bay. I don't blame him. I didn't much feel like fighting crowds myself. That wasn't going to be a problem this morning. As I neared my put in point, the tide had not flooded the last few sets of riffles. I negotiated them by poling upstream. My shoulders could feel the lack of conditioning I had given them this summer. I strained through the last little fast water chute and ground the canoe out at the put in point. Just the right amount of fish catching, canoeing and good old Oregon drizzle to start the day.
I lazily paddled from pool to pool fishing my way down to tidewater. Once reached, I fished my way back as the tide flooded. A chinook fisherman watched his bobber swirl in a deep black tidewater pool. There were no evidence of chinook in the river, but he said he didn't feel like fighting the crowds down closer to the bay. I don't blame him. I didn't much feel like fighting crowds myself. That wasn't going to be a problem this morning. As I neared my put in point, the tide had not flooded the last few sets of riffles. I negotiated them by poling upstream. My shoulders could feel the lack of conditioning I had given them this summer. I strained through the last little fast water chute and ground the canoe out at the put in point. Just the right amount of fish catching, canoeing and good old Oregon drizzle to start the day.
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