Mid to late October marks the start of winter storms in the Northwest.  Deep lows in the Gulf of Alaska move south and bring cold wind and rain – with winds sufficient to cause power outages across Puget Sound.

This year we’ve already had a few storms that brought a good deal of rain, with wind gusts strong enough to knock out power due to falling trees. We’ve lost power a few times, but the crews of Peninsula Light are superb and get out power back in typically short order.

Another storm was on the way in and I wanted to get out to the beach for some two-handed fishing or casting practice. Checking the tides, there was a flood current (tidal height increasing) in the morning hours and it was a matter of picking the day that had the best window for getting out before the beach disappeared. Even with that, the maximum tide for each beach (beyond which there was no area even to walk) limited me to Narrows Park.

The forecast the night before was for calm winds in the morning (North 3 to 5 knots).

I got to the parking area and it was calm – no winds.

Terrific I thought, even though I could see winds out in the Sound.

I got my waders on; rigged up my Sage Trout Spey rod; and tied on a fly. As I walked down the hill to the beach, I found myself in a much stiffer wind from the north – 8 knots, with gusts that felt like they were 10 knots.

That was the direction I was headed and walking into a 46 F wind was cold.

With no lees for shelter from the wind, it was apparent casting out into the Sound, trying to fish, was not going to be possible.

The single small seal I saw out seemed to agree. It would dive and get its head high enough to look around and then dive back under.

Deciding to focus on casting practice, I looked for the place with the smallest wavelets – the tidal current was strong enough to be similar to one found in a stream.

I waded into the water a few paces and faced south, putting the wind at my back – very nice with my hooded jacket.

I practiced roll casts and switch casts, the fundamental skill casts of two-handed casting. Getting those down are foundational for the actual casts used for fishing (e.g., Double Spey, Single Spey, and Snap T).

I decided to use a 23-foot Rio Trout Spey line.

It’s interesting when learning a skill that has elements of single-hand casting but requires different movements with focus on the hand that typically only handles the line.

As George Cook, Sage’s Northwest sales representative, and a Spey-casting legend has observed – he hasn’t been able to invent a Spey-casting parrot to sit on a caster’s shoulder and squawk when a mistake is made. That means self-diagnosis in the three parts of any Spey cast: the anchor, the D-loop, and the forward cast.

I found I needed to slightly adjust the rod position behind me (the proverbial 2 o’clock position) to create a proper D-loop (where the line hangs from the rod to the point forward to where the line touches the water) – this establishes the load on the rod that enables the forward cast.

The other area that needed constant attention was the elements of the forward stroke. Too detailed to discuss, suffice it to say as a rich-handed caster the main thing was to ensure the left hand on the bottom part of the rod was doing most of the work.

While not every cast was perfect, I found myself able to adjust my forward stroke to get casts that were well formed. (And as George Cook also said, it takes an average of about 20 hours of casting to really get it down – so I think I’m doing fine).

After a bit over an hour of practice, and with the tide up about 2 feet, it was time to head back to the parking lot to avoid having to climb over several tall fallen trees.

I can’t wait to get out again – hopefully next week after this round of storms blow through.