This morning, four of us fished the incoming tide at Golden Gardens. Three of us were on poppers. Two guys with speyrods showed up and one of them, Tom, fished a popper he had picked up at the flyshop.
In quick succession, Jimmy LeMert's mother, to my right, lost one (on the popper) as she was beaching it. Tom, the speyguy, hooked one on his popper way the hell out there and lost it.
Ol' Leland had only two half-hearted follows – the kind you know aren't eaters but seem to want to school up with the popper.
Later, I had an interesting experience. I actually heard a coho's jaw shut as it took a swipe at my popper before turning away at the beach.
Surviving another bad juju day,
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