Cutthroat: A South Sound Session with the Old Man

Last weekend was one I won’t forget anytime soon.

I made my way up to Olympia for a few days after being invited to walk out a neighbor kid, Zach Albright, for his senior high school baseball game. I’ve known Zach since he was born, and getting to be part of that moment with him felt special. It’s one of those things that puts life into perspective—watching someone you’ve seen grow up hit a milestone like that. I was honored to be there.

Of course, anytime I’m back in Olympia, my fly rod is coming with me.

The weather couldn’t have been more “summer”—80 degrees, bluebird skies, not a cloud in sight. While that might sound perfect, it’s not exactly what you draw up for targeting sea-run cutthroat. Can you still catch fish? Absolutely. But those bright, sunny days aren’t typically when the Sound fishes its best.

Still, that’s never going to keep me off the water.

I got up early, kissed Walker and Kylie goodbye, and met my old man to get the sled ready. It had been a few months since we last fished Puget Sound together, and that’s something I never take for granted. It’s our home water. We’ve built years of memories out there, and every trip adds another layer.

We launched and started heading south—but right away, I could tell we might be in for a challenge. There’s only one thing that truly keeps me off the water in Puget Sound, and that’s visibility. I don’t really care about tides, and I’ve got beaches for every time of year. Sunshine doesn’t scare me off either. But dirty water? That’s the one.

At the launch, visibility was around six feet. Fishable, no doubt—but not ideal. Generally, I like heading south when clarity is good and north when it’s not. It’s not a perfect system, but it’s a rule of thumb I’ve come to trust. Still, there were a few beaches nearby that I had to check before making any big moves.

As we pushed south, the water just kept getting worse.

We pulled up to a beach I know holds fish and decided to give it a shot. My dad had mentioned he didn’t do too well the last time out—which I like to remind him is probably because I wasn’t there.

Third cast in, I hooked up.

When visibility drops, I don’t mess around too much with fly changes. I stick to shrimp patterns that push a bit of profile, but I do adjust how I fish them. There’s no sense stripping a fly all the way back from 20+ feet out when the fish can only see five or six feet. It becomes a game of efficiency—more casts, more time working that nearshore zone where fish actually have a chance to see the fly.

We settled into a rhythm, working up and down the beach, drifting with the tide. Before long, we had each landed five or six fish and lost a handful more. We even doubled up a couple times. It was one of those sessions where everything just clicks—laughs, fish, good company. An hour in, we both looked at each other remembering this is what its all about. 

After working the beach over, we decided to run north—but by then the algae was really starting to take over. Visibility dropped even more, and we knew our window was closing. We poked around a few areas with stronger tidal movement, spots where fish will sometimes stack up when clarity is poor. Managed to pick off a couple more fish there.

Old man? Still sitting on zero for that stretch.

After that, we called it. It was getting hot, the water clarity was shot, and we had already gotten what we came for.

The next day, for Zach’s game I provided a classic pre game distraction, showing him photos from the trip and giving him a hard time. He’s already got the cutthroat bug, so it didn’t take much to get him fired up.

I’ll be back in Olympia soon enough—and hopefully next time the water will be a little cleaner. But even with tough conditions, a few hours on the Sound with my dad is more than enough to remind me why this fishery is hands down my favorite.