I will never forget my partner asking me if I was sure what we were doing was ok as we were ducking through a hole cut in the fence and slipping behind the sign that read, "Trespassers will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law". I didn't know what to say. Some days we caught fish till our arms got sore and other days we couldn't buy a hook up. This is where I caught my first resident coho. I thought I hook a real fiesty Pink. Boy was I surprised to find a rather small coho when I brought it close and the dim light of my headlamp penetrated the tide water and glittered off its' silvery side. One morning I caught cutthroat after cutthroat for the first 30 minutes or so. Then all went quiet for a short while until the Pinks came in and surrounded us. I was standing in less than knee deep water and had pinks rolling behind me, to the side, and right off my rod tip. Pretty fun. I admit to leaving beaches with a little steam coming from my ears when the crowds showed up later in the run. Still those first 2 weeks before the masses caught on were some of the best days fishing I've had. It was great to sit on a log, crack open the thermos, and enjoy a hot cup of java in the early morning sun rays. We'd sit back and watch the park guys do their walk along the beach and the morning dog walkers would come strolling along. They always pretended to be amazed that we already had caught all the fish we wanted for the day.