Day Two: Fishing off the beach at Point Defiance was a rub out. Not a single bite in six hours, Not so much as a nibble. The only thing I caught was kelp.
Not that it mattered. The whiff of the sea, warm sunshine and spectacular scenery made fishing incidental to the enjoyment. It was enough to give purpose to the day without requiring so much effort it became an endeavor.
We’d walked along the beach to a place called the Banks with high walls of crumbling sandy soil giving way to a steep trough at the water’s edge. It was in these deep waters that, supposedly, the fish would be congregating.
The presence of seals should, perhaps, have told us, that the fish wouldn’t be hanging around. But who cares? Watching these marine masters languorously roll through the water, bobbing their heads through the waves, was entertainment aplenty.
Across the course of the day we saw only a handful of people on the beach – it seemed like all of Tacoma had taken to the water; floating gin palaces, wind-in-the-hair speedboats, utility fishing rigs, all kinds of craft and at all kinds of prices.
If I lived here mine would have to be a sailing boat. Nothing too big, or elaborate, but just enough to feel the wind through the sheets and hear the water burbling under the hull. Bliss.