fishing for words

(and tossing out random thoughts)


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catching up

I’ve been remiss in posting. But I’ll claim the excuse that it’s easier to get into the swing of a quick vacation than it is to get back into the swing of everyday life.

The previous post hints at the end of my visit last week to the Evergreen State. It was a good visit that began on the previous Friday. The wife and I dropped the last kid off at school and barreled down the highway to Oakland International…expecting traffic but instead arriving with plenty o’ time to read the newspaper.

Maybe it’s a sign of the times: our flight was at 70-80% occupancy. The two of us shared three seats. A little turbulence was followed by the always surprising decent to Sea-Tac. This flight was an experiment of sorts for me. It was the first time I hauled my fishing gear through the air.

Voula's Offshore Cafe

Voula’s Offshore Cafe

Mom & Dad’s Taxi Service picked us up. Next stop: Voula’s Offshore Café.

After seeing it on Food Network’s “Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives,” we volunteered a late lunch at Voula’s on the way home. Nothing like breakfast for lunch. My dad went for one of the hobo scrambles, mom for the salmon scramble and the wife a plate of biscuits and gravy. I opted for the amazing and very savory Eggs Benedict, made with pork smoked on the premises and chipotle hollandaise.

Once in Duvall we met my cousin Bill and his wife Laura, for the first time, then tried to walk off some of Voula’s excellent chow with some dog walking. The weather was good, but before I left we’d experience everything from sunshine to hail and downpours.

Saturday was the manufactured excuse reason for our visit. Though I lived there for a short nine months I missed out on the Issaquah Salmon Days Festival and during the summer decided it was about time I got up there to see what it’s all about. The day was full of drizzle as well as fun in the sights and sounds. Just your normal festival with craft booths and monstrous salmon plowing up the nearby creek. The Issaquah State Salmon Hatchery is a great facility that speaks to the success of a grass-roots effort. That evening my brother and his family invited all of us over for dinner and entertainment (provided by my two nephews, Levi and Kaden).

Sunday started with mass at my parents’ parish, followed by a breakfast spread that apparently only comes out when visitors descend on the house. I swear my dad was missing the usual morning meal composed of twigs and pebbles. After another visit with the nephews and their mom, it was off for an early dinner with mom, dad, the nephews, my sister-in-law and my cousin and his wife, before delivering the wife to the airport.

Monday saw me on the forks of the Snoqualmie River with fly rod in hand. Unfortunately, the upper reaches of the South Fork of the Snoqualmie were a little bigger than I envisioned. I flogged the water best I could…may have had only one take…but not a fish to hand. Spending a day on the water is always good, and I was treated to sporadic sunshine near Snoqualmie Pass and drizzle further down the hill on the North Fork. After stumbling upon a couple of camouflaged gentled carrying rifles, it was time to call it day.

Tuesday and Wednesday were typical of the best types of vacation days…days without any plan and composed of reading the newspaper, running into town for a turn signal bulb, visiting with a gentlemen who repairs microscopes and refractometers and hanging with the bro’. And as you know, getting a rather unique ride to the airport.

P.S. I haven’t processed the pictures yet…I’ll put ’em up soon…probably in a separate post.


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glad it was the front seat

After a nice visit with my folks, my brother and his family in Washington, and my cousin and his wife, my rather unique ride to Sea-Tac:

...little bro’ didn’t even require that I wear cuffs...

...little bro’ didn’t even require that I wear cuffs...


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reflection on a summer of firsts

Summer’s official end — not the one marked on the calendar — came crashing down this morning with the standard fall overcast and threat of rain.

I’m relieved that our Indigenous Summer was short lived, giving way to crisp autumn air, fresh pressed apple cider and that last hustle to any water high enough to keep trout on the pre-winter feedbag. Things have been busy on the fishing front this trout season, with a lot of firsts.

Tied my first flies. Caught the first fish with one of them flies. Landed my first brown since picking up fly fishing in earnest. The first group fishing trip organized by yours truly came off well. (My strategy counted on keeping everyone stuffed with good food in the event fishing was poor. Got lucky. It wasn’t.)

And I made a first attempt at mentoring a gentleman considering joining the sport. The downside is that he’ll now have to unlearn the bad habits I taught him.

In a month I’ll inaugurate the first of hopefully many end-of-season visits to the cabin to do the last bit of trout fishing before the mid November close. I’m trying my level best to balance the need desire to remove myself from the world via fly fishing with daily commitments and responsibilities, but dates in my mind increasingly are filtered by the opening days of various rivers or Sierra Nevada passes. The wife already knows that any suggestion of travel prompts my immediate inquiry about the inclusion of a fishing day.

Leaving tomorrow for the Seattle area will mean visiting family, gazing slack-jawed at spawning salmon and probably tip toeing between raindrops. And like fly fishing, planning and anticipation is half the fun.


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salmon, salmon everywhere but no fly to cast

Finally following through with a self-made promise of many moons ago. This Saturday the wife and I will be surrounded by Chinook, Sockeye and Coho salmon swimming upstream to soon be relieved of their milt and eggs…and salmon and beef barbecue, Cajun blackened salmon, smoked salmon as well as salmon-logoed clothing and salmon-themed crafts.  Issaquah Salmon Days here we come. 

Almost like leaving Northern California’s salmon desert for the land of milk and honey and plenty o’ salmon.

And the debate still rages within whether to haul the fly fishing gear through the airport of a single day of whipping local waters.


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catch Catch Magazine

The act of fly fishing arguably offers as much as visual feast as it does frustrating wind knots and finicky fish any thing else and the new online Catch Magazine exquisitely plays to this aspect of the sport. Calling itself the “Official Journal of Fly Fishing Photography & Film” — smartly avoiding the label “fish porn” and the stereotypical man-holding-fish composition— Catch Magazine is one of a handful of fly fishing Web sites offering almost painfully beautiful images related to the sport.

The first issue premiered this month with an interface that a remarkable page-turning interface. (My thanks to the Feed Fish Flies Blog — an offshoot of Creekside Angling Co. fly shop in Issaquah, Wash., for pointing it out.) Catch Magazine is the brainchild of Powell Butte, Oregon-based angling and outdoor photog and Scientific Anglers tackle rep Brian O’Keefe and Sprit River Studios partner and ESPN Fly Fishing the World Camera Operator Todd Moen. Mr. O’Keefe tackles the still photography while Mr. Moen slips into the role of video editor.

The current/premier issue includes photo essays of fly fishing, of course, in Belieze, Russia’s Kola Pennisula, Alaska and Argentina, with video mixes (be warned of long load times) and a steelhead video.  The bit-longish loading time is worth it. Sprinkled sparsely with reflective narrative, Mr. O’Keefe and Moen wisely let the photographs impart the story.

Worth more than just one look.


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don’t mess with the man’s domain

As part of his on-going War on Four-Footed Terrorists — wherein my father ensures that most manner of critters will win free relocation for stepping foot in his yard — he’s sent out notice of the capture of his first raccoon. Seems you can take the man out of law enforcement but you can’t take the law enforcement out of the man.

Wear a mask, go to prison.


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clear road home

Leaving family always leaves a bit of a hole in my stomach even if my mom does stuff me with pancakes and Lil’ Smokies. But it was time to head south, and by 9:30 a.m. Sean and I were on the road. It’s been a typical Washington day…gray with drizzle and rain here and there. Traffic has been minimal, so we’ve made good time. Just about noon and we’re about 14 miles from the Washington/Oregon border. In 24 hours we’ll be back in California.

After a night in Rogue River, we woke to sunshine and a clear road home. It was a good trip. Something that should happen more often.


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going “hot”

The sunny dispositions that Sean and I brought to the Pacific Northwest once again showed its power, as during 8:00 mass we could watch, through the large windows behind the altar at Holy Innocents Church, as the clouds parted and allowed the sun to shine through. A quick tour of town was included in the drive home after mass, though thankfully there as no quiz! The morning passed by with the reading of the newspaper, the watching of a football game and my meeting a neighbor who also happens to enjoy fishing (and makes a mean beef jerky).

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Then Mark spirited us off to a department range for another manner of manly activity. After an abbreviated but still through session on safety and strategy, we were given the opportunity to shoot a 9mm pistol. I would dare say that Sean and did very well consider our limited training and experience. With a break to let some officers qualify, we took the nickel tour of the precinct house, after which we watched a few more officers run through their “quals.” Soon we had our own lane again and practiced some paired groupings (sight, shoot and as soon as you sight again take a second shot) and double taps (sight and shot two shots as quickly as possible). All of our shots hit the target and most were center mass. Not too shabby for amateurs.

After spending more time than expected at the range, we met everyone (parents and Mark’s family) at Ixtapa for a hearty Mexican dinner. That was followed up my much wrestling among an uncle, father and cousin, as well as dessert. It was a nice way to spend our last night in Washington.

[Pictures from this trip can be found by clicking here.]


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“man time” in Washington

Call it the seasoning of age or attribute it to the wisdom that comes with the passing years, but I find myself increasing grateful of family making time for our visits. My brother “donated” his time (and my thanks to his wife for allowing it) to make himself and his family available to Sean and I during our time here, so Saturday we headed to his house for a morning visit with his family while we mulled over any man-bonding activities we might undertake.

We opted to head to the now traditional man movie and ended up taking over a single theater. Afterward, back at the house, we kept testosterone levels high by shooting various targets with an airsoft gun. We later met a next door neighbor and, after I got my video game fix (and seeming to amaze the neighbor’s kids that this old guy can play XBox pretty well), it was time for a great family dinner with mom and dad. And dinner was followed by three desserts.

(While it might sound like we didn’t do too much, isn’t that sometimes what a vacation is about: doing less? But even while we did less we had the opportunity to simple hang out, which I think often is underrated.)


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sunshine in Seattle…in January?

We again took our time crawling out from under the bed sheets this morning, to be greeted by the wafting smell of waffles. Moms – at least my/our mom – never forget how to take care of their kids. Stuffed with waffles we read the paper and awaited the arrival of my brother Mark with his kids. It was heart-warming to have Kaden enthusiastically jump into a hug with me. Little brother Levi was a bit more standoffish, but by the end of our trip would warm up to having Uncle Pat and big Cousin Sean around. We had a quick visit of about an hour, but after being away too long, it’s always great to find that we can quickly fall into the comfortable rhythms of being family. And despite distance, infrequent visits and the years that have past it seems that my brother and I always quickly fall into the goofiness that makes brotherhood so fun. …it was a good morning of reconnecting with my nephews.

Under threatening clouds Sean and I headed out the door in the direction of Seattle. It might be a reflection of the patience that comes with age, or the fact that we left when traffic would be minimal, or both, but it seemed that we pulled into Seattle quickly. Luck or perhaps our sunny dispositions must have influence the weather as we found sun and blue sky in the Emerald City. Without an specific goals in mind we wandered Pike Place market, where we bought some “Jazz” apples (a hybrid of Fuji and Braeburn apples). On the waterfront we fought cold winds as we walked between various shops.

We departed late afternoon to head east to Issaquah, the town (now a city) that established my first real connection to Washington, to accommodate Sean’s desire for a visit to Boehm’s Candies. Alas, he was to be disappointed as Boehm’s now focuses on their chocolates and does not carry the rice candy “fly saucers” that he recalled from his younger days. A drive through town dredged up some of my old memories of the fears and struggles of my younger days. Despite being so long ago the memories seem so fresh.

As if we planed it, we pulled into my parent’s driveway just in time for dinner…