Back From Jersey And Back on the Sound
I returned to the Northwest Sunday night. I have never been so wet as I was last thursday in Philadelphia. What a dumper! I had to duck into the Reading Terminal Market and eat until I dried.
Yesterday, I fished Lincoln Park during the morning ebb with only one follow.
This morning, I hit Point No Point at 8am. Five buzzbombers had fish lying on the beach and three had fish on when I stepped into the water. The bite ended before I found my rhythm. The water was full of herring. You could hear them "popping" as they were transported along a ribbon of current. Oddly, I didn't see any sprays or surface slashes. It must have been a pre-dawn bite.
At the slack, I moved on to another beach. A mistake. I made a long walk out to the point for nothing. I should have known when I saw that there were no cars parked at the pullout. Anyway, I moved on to a third beach at the flood and ran into two other flyfishers. Herring were everywhere, except this time, you could almost "feel" their anxiety. They scattered at my passing line, at the shadows of birds, and at the persistent gnawing of their undersides by unseen coho. It was a tough fishery because there was more bait than fish. Any decent coho would have to swim through the schools of bait to find my popper. I finally got one by stripping very very slowly with an occassional "pop." I thought that if I acted as if I were mortally wounded and barely moving, a lazy coho would take advantage of me. Sure enough, a fish of between 8-10 pounds simply glombed onto my popper. He definitely didn't want to work very hard for his meal.