Resident Coho: First Fish of the Year

It had been a while since I’ve been fishing and I knew it was time to get out. Yesterday’s afternoon ebb seemed like the perfect opportunity so off to the Narrows Park I went.

I chose to leave my waders home as I was really looking to see how the Clousers I recently tied would work; a few I had tied and cast several years ago fell apart on the first cast or two. But I had put a lot more emphasis on technique this time and I was hopeful they would work as well as commercial flies – if not as elegantly tied.

It was a nice day on the beach with high clouds, some sun, and relatively warm temperatures. And there were only a few dog walkers and one solitary fly fisher walking opposite to the direction I was heading.

I watched as a couple of harbor porpoises worked their way up the Narrows, surprisingly close I thought. They were only a couple of hundred feet from the beach – something I had never seen.

I made a number of casts with both flies and except for some worn-off eyes as they bounced through the shallows, they were in excellent condition.

As I was casting I noticed a number of resident Coho jumping well away from the beach; even wading they would have been too far.

But I thought I might still attract one as several were moving in.

Tug. I had one.

I thought it might be a searun cutthroat trout given the easy take But as I reeled in the line the fight increased and I saw the bright shape of the body and knew I had a resident Coho and a good sized one at that.

Bringing it to the beach I estimated it to be a 14-incher; that’s the largest one I’ve caught! Removing the hook, I cupped it gently in my hand until it regained its strength and then shot back out into the Sound.

That capped the day and I determined that was enough for the first trip of the year.

Chauvinist Flyfishermen

Amanda Monthei is an outdoor writer, flyfisher, skier and a wildland firefighter.

In her latest blog post, she describes her experiences representing The Flyfish Journal at fly fishing shows in New Jersey and Atlanta.

In particular, she describes her encounters with men who didn’t believe she actually fly fished; wanted her to work as housekeepers at their lodge; wistfully wished they were younger so they could chase her; and since she was working a booth asked if she gave out kisses.

Reading her post made me cringe.

I think it’s long past time for men of whatever age to think it’s still the 1950’s. While I think there’s a vast difference between asking a woman for a telephone number and sexual harassment, I’m not sure there’s any difference when men treat a woman like an object.

Amanda did point out the vast majority of the men she met were respectful and interested in what she’s done in fly fishing. But it only takes a few jackasses to point out how far there is to go.

You can read Amanda’s post here.