Wes,
That sounds like what I experienced last week in the wind. But your ability to
put it into words far surpass's me.
Jeff
Wes Neuenschwander wrote:
> Halcyon day at the narrows yesterday. Started slow, but
> encouragingly, with scattered fish working the rip 60' out, just south of
> Doc's. My previously effective euphasid patterns were completely
> ignored, so I switched to a small candlefish pattern and almost
> immediately hooked and landed a nice little 13" cutt. Working along the
> beach I managed to get several other good tugs before heading back up
> the car to shed some clothing: Even if the fishing didn't pan out, this
> was going to be a beautiful day, with clear skies, calm and sunny. Ran
> into John Abbott (aka Spey) in the parking lot, preparing to fish his
> remarkeable collection of tube flies, which had been productive for him
> in the past.
>
> Back to the beach, I managed to get a couple of short runs out the coho
> still working the rip, before discovering I was fishing a pointless fly! Into
> the flybox to discover that all but one of my remaining candlefish flies
> had epoxied hook eyes (try working epoxy out with a hook point!). Tie
> on my last candlefish, only to have it fly-off on the forward cast, seconds
> later! (It did, however, reach well out into the main pod of feeding fish - I
> wonder if it was taken?) OK, so maybe not such a glorious day after
> all.
>
> Tie on an amphipod, fire up a cigar, and decide to plow down toward Pt.
> Fosdick to do a little exploring. I had noticed the boat that had been
> working the rip at Doc's earlier, had headed down that way, and not
> come back, and also that there was another boat, conspicuously
> holding 40' off the beach about a 1/2 mile down.
>
> Once past the gentle point south of Doc's, the main ebb-tide current
> flow moved well off the beach, creating a long broad, relatively placid
> back-eddy near the beach. As I approached, I could see the boat I had
> noticed earlier - a large v-hulled inflatable - methodically working large
> pods of porpoising fish cruising up and down the back-eddy, just a short
> way off the beach. Two things caught my eye: I had not seen coho
> pods as large as these in many years and I had never seen so many
> pods working in one area. It actually took a while to sort out. One
> large pod would approach another, and then they would both disappear,
> only to reappear 40' away, running at 90 degree angles to each other.
> One thing was clear: This place was loaded with fish, many of which
> were very large! The sight of these pods approaching was incredible.
> Perhaps 50-60 fish, swimming in close formation, shallow head-tail
> rises, cruising in long straight lines, sometimes less than 20' off the
> beach.
>
> I stepped into the water (a nice sandy beach) and cast 40' out across
> the first approaching pod. I had not led them enough to let the current
> do its work. Another pod approached from down current, and my 45
> degree down and across cast swung right through the head of the pod.
> About 3 short strips and I was solidly hooked to a 17" coho. By the
> time I landed and released this fish the pod was nearly 100' down the
> beach. But no matter, another pod was approaching from up current.
> Another cast down and across, just ahead of the pod, and I didn't even
> get a strip in; just a solid tug about 10' into the swing. Another 17"
> coho. The action continued at about this pace over the next half hour,
> gradually slowing as the pods broke up and scattered from the
> disturbance caused by the hooked fish. But only the complexion
> changed; not the intensity. Now instead of a few very large schools of
> fish, there were more, but smaller schools of fish. Nearly every school
> yielded a tug or two and most a fish - or two. Indeed, the challenge
> became how to land and release a fish before the pod moved out of
> range. I found that by pinching the barb completely flat, I could still pull
> the fish out of the pod before it was scattered and frequently release the
> fish by slack lining it when it was close in. Better for the fish, and better
> for me.
>
> With brief pauses, the action continued through the ebb, low slack and
> well into the flood (where the back-eddy reversed, once again running
> opposite of the main current). At one point, while standing calf deep in
> the water, looking for approaching pods, a fish boiled directly under my
> extended rod, less than 5' from me. I flipped my fly, which had been
> trailing 10' behind me in the current, directly ahead of the fish, raising
> the rod tip as it approached. He took it solidly and turned back toward
> the shore before I pulled the hook into the corner of his mouth. I saw
> the entire sequence... it was just like Rocky Ford. Brought him to hand
> to see what kind of fish would behave this way and released him -
> another nice coho.
>
> A light breeze came up out of the north about 4:00, riffling the previously
> placid water. The fish, which were now just barely breaking the surface
> (or not even breaking the surface at all) became more difficult to spot. I
> decided this would be a good time to do some more exploring. I walked
> back up the beach a short distance, to where there were some fairly
> broad still areas out of the ruffling breeze. While standing and watching,
> I noticed some of the areas which had previously appeared to be little
> "cats-paws" of wind-riffled water were actually very tight pods of closely
> working fish; almost like little balls of herring. One cast, slightly above
> and beyond, confirmed they were, indeed, coho.
>
> At this point, I was getting tired, my right arm was getting very sore, and
> all of my favorite euphasid flies were in shreds (the fine larva lace that I
> use for the abdomens seems to get torn easily - Leland, what do you do
> to avoid this?). But the pods kept enticing me, so I stepped back into
> the water a decided to see how a bare hook, with barbell eyes, a little
> angel hair dubbing at the thorax (also getting ragged) and a 1-1/2" curly-
> cue "trailing shuck" of clear midge larva lace would work. Well, it
> worked just fine. Several more fish from small pods and nymphing
> soloists cruising in the back-eddy.
>
> I finally just had to put on the blinders and hump my way back to the
> car, rather than risk injuring my rotator cuff and being late for dinner.
>
> A truly grand and glorious day on the salt. Well over 20 fish to hand (or
> intentionally slack lined realeased). Easily could have been over 30; I
> lost all interest in counting after the first dozen or so. Also easily the
> best day of resident spring coho fishing I've had in over 5 years.
>
> Let's hope its a harbinger of things to come!
>
> -Wes
>
> Wes Neuenschwander
> Seattle, WA
> [EMAIL PROTECTED]
