A photo taken in Olympia, Washington last Christmas. We probably won't see snow this Christmas.
Well, the tree is up, the lights are glowing and most of the presents are wrapped, but the chances for a white Christmas are fading under forecasts of sunshine.
And, hey, that's not too bad. Last Christmas may have brought too much snow -- there was a waist-high drift outside my Hood River home and South Puget Sound was just about clogged with snow. I watched lots of cars sliding sideways down the steeper streets in my neighborhood. It's tough to travel when snow falls in the Pacific Northwest lowlands.
And the snow is there this year -- if you're willing to saddle up the four-wheel drive and head into the Cascades.
What's more -- this little cold, dry spell should clear up the inlets in South Puget Sound and spark a pretty good sea-run cutthroat trout bite. In my experience, a saltwater inlet clouded with storm runoff isn't the greatest spot to find snappy cutts.
I got up insanely early this morning to catch the last of the incoming tide at a good spot. The Subaru's display said it was 32 degrees at 7:45 a.m., which was pretty much dawn this morning. Fog rose off the water, which was warmer than the air.
The brown, dead leaves on the path to the water were rimmed with frost, and not one squirrel chittered or chirped as I walked through the forest. I pulled on my fingerless fleece gloves and embraced one cold morning.
Small cutts were swirling on the slower, inside water of a current rip, and I was just about ready to move to another spot when a meaty boil showed on the faster water on the outside of that fishy meeting of fast and slow currents.
The cutt whacked my bright-pink Knudson Spider as it drifted downcurrent into the rip. I didn't even have time to give the fly a couple of strips. The fish flashed in the current and my drag rattled for a few seconds -- and then nothing.
I worked the seam for another hour or so -- until the tidal current slacked off and the water was still. I didn't get another bite, but the tug of my flyline on the backcast felt so good. The line uncurling into the fog put me into a bit of a trance.
I didn't feel too bad about losing the cutt. I would have released it anyway -- catch and release on saltwater cutthroat trout is one of Washington's smartest fishing regulations -- but I did want to see the silvery sides and black-pepper spots up close.
But even hooking a nice fish in late December is a gift, and the quiet, cold morning -- the only real sounds were the crunch of my feet on frozen ground and the gentle hiss of the water in the rip -- was magical. The whole world boiled down to fog, cold and flowing water.
I actually got the feeling back in my fingertips on the hike back to the car. I may go back later today for the falling tide, but I'm afraid to mess with the chilly mojo of the morning.
Then again, the fishing may be hot this afternoon.
Happy Holiday, my friends.....
