After locking the car door, I tucked away my car keys inside the funny little pocket on the inside of my swim trunks and, reaching to the top of the car, I grabbed my fly rod, my hip pack, and
After locking the car door, I tucked away my car keys inside the funny little pocket on the inside of my swim trunks and, reaching to the top of the car, I grabbed my fly rod, my hip pack, and a frozen bottle of spring water.
As I walked towards the water at Salt Pond Beach Park I passed a set of picnic tables and overheard a women’s voice so quietly say “He doesn’t think he’ll catch trout here, does he?”
Ignoring the comment, I pressed on and with every step closer to the water, I became anxious and excited.
I was immersed in the moment, as I realized that I was, about to go fly fishing in saltwater for the very first time ever.
As I began my walk around the beach towards the row of lava rock that protects and quiets Salt Pond from the incoming surf, I wondered just exactly what it would be that I might catch.
I had already convinced myself that I might catch something colorful or something with big teeth, or maybe it was just a preconceived notion I inherited after snorkeling the day before.
Snorkeling in the exact same spot you are going to fish the next day seems like an unfair advantage to the angler, but at the time I was snorkeling I was not thinking of fishing.
Standing knee deep in the warmest water that I will probably ever fish in, I tied on a sparkly black woolly bugger, a fly pattern which is both notable and almost too common in the sport of fly fishing.
I began my casting, allowing more line to slide through my fingertips, I cast the fly just behind the lava rock and let the fly sink into the water.
With a twitch of my wrist I brought the bushy fly to life, and two twitches later I hooked into my very first saltwater fish.
The fish I caught on that day indeed were colorful, and some were even loaded with razor sharp teeth. The manybar goatfish (Parupeneus multifasciatus) was the most colorful, and was the only fish with whiskers I have ever caught. The lizard fish (Synodus spp) was loaded with teeth, and hit my fly with the authority of a much larger fish, even though it only was 11 inches long.
The largest fish I caught, measuring 46 inches, was a cornetfish (Fistularia commersonii). Other fish caught included papio, wrasse, needlefish, and countless ‘aweoweo.
After three hours of fishing in the direct sunlight, I could tell that I had only thought about putting on sunscreen earlier in the day, and had not actually done it. With my lobster-colored neck, I brought in my line and began my walk back down the beach to my car.
When I got close to the picnic tables in the park area, I noticed the same folks were still there. As I was just about to pass by the table, I stopped, looked over, and with a shrug of my shoulders and a roll of the eyes, in the most serious, matter-of-fact voice I could muster, said, “Welp! no trout today.”
Fly casting in the sunshine, beautiful surroundings, warm water and the many fish of Salt Pond made for a perfect first fly fishing outing on Kaua‘i.
The sunrises, sunsets, beautiful water and incredible landscapes of Kaua‘i make it one of the most beautiful of locations I have ever fly fished.
I am convinced that when you fly fish on Kaua‘i, you are in fact fly fishing in paradise.
But if it is paradise fly fishing you seek, then buy yourself a custom, hand-crafted trout rod from Kerry Burkheimer, and book a guided trip down the Deschutes river in Oregon with John and Amy Hazel.
Kyle Lundy is a Lihu‘e resident and works as a paginator at The Garden Island. He may be reached at 245-3681 (ext. 257).
