I made some time to finally get back on a river and fish the coho run before it gets later and the majority of the fish turn.

My home system, the snohomish- where I learned to fish rivers, where I caught my first coho. Where my passion for the rivers of the Northwest developed, three short years ago.

This fall has not been easy, with river levels hovering above their mean discharge and blowing out every other week it seems. The Nookie, my closest river to my home at school, has been a mud river. A couple of nice rainless days let the rivers fall a bit, however, and I meant to take advantage of it while I could.

Battling high water and diminished visibility made the way of the river tougher and the way of the brambles a necessary hardship. Soaked early and scratched to bits, I began pestering some angry bucks.

It took very little time for the first guy to take notice- A firetruck that probably weighed around 13 pounds. He fought like a King- either not moving at all or moving at full speed.
The second came the next cast- a relatively bright jack which gave me my first taste of the coho death roll today. He was released in the hopes for larger quarries.

The third was a blushed hen of around 7 pounds who loved to romp in the surface film and tangle herself around the line. She also popped off at my feet, but that's okay. She was going back anyway.

Relocating was a smart move. After dinking around with some cutty buddies for a while and never hooking one of the stinkers, I finally had my next good take. Full of life, fight, and absent of fall colors, a 5lb dime-bright buck came out to play. I lost a good fish but half an hour later, another shiny buck of around 8lb jumped aboard and completed my 2-fish limit.

My return to my home river was just about all I could ask for. Tough; it usually is. But rewarding, always.

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