These long evenings can make for great sport…

I take advantage of a little more free time and arrive at the river about 5.30pm. It’s a dull and overcast late afternoon but I know that this sort of weather can be very productive.

I decide to start with a pair of nymphs in the hope that there will be fish rising later. In the first pool I flick the nymphs into the current and watch the sighter as the pool deepens. It stops abruptly and I lift into a good fish. I haven’t even got my feet wet.

The grayling is 17″, not as big as the OOS fish back in April but heavy and puts up a stronger fight. After about a thirty second recovery she slides back out of sight.

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Over the next hour or so I make my way upstream picking up a few small trout from the faster riffles, mostly at the heads of the pools. I’ve a silver bead PTN on the point with a gold one on the dropper. All fish take the point fly.

I connect with only one better sized fish but it’s off after a few seconds. This part of the river is well shaded with a lot of tree cover and I’m struggling a little to keep track of the sighter. It’s a relief when the river opens up a little and I can see again.

As the river divides around an island, I focus on a fast deep pool. The sort of pool where you know a good fish lies in wait. I put on a heavier point fly to get down quickly and search every inch, to no avail.

Looking ahead to the glide above the pool I spot a rise and need no further evidence to switch to a dry.

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It’s a difficult approach and I’m going to need to cast back hand. My first effort is short. My second pulls him up but he misses the fly and I only just resist the urge to lift and let the fly float down stream. To be sure he’s not spooked, I wait to see him rise again, and my third cast results in a 12″ brown trout in the net. Very satisfying.

• 

I’m hoping to see more fish rise, but it doesn’t happen this evening.

Above the glide is a long faster riffle, not more that a foot deep. I cast into the nearside seam and a small brownie grabs the fly immediately. From the same run I catch a dozen more, all to the same fly, as the light fades. I’m surprised by how many trout are in this small area and still feeding as I pull them out one by one.

I can’t believe that we are already at the point where the evenings are getting shorter. Got to make the most of the coming weeks.

Mr Notherone

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Testing myself in the rain…

I’m in two minds about getting out on the river for a few hours. There’s a lull in the rain that’s been falling for days but the sky looks as if it could change that in an instant. The river level has been falling throughout the day though. Decision made, I head out.

I’ve never been a fair weather angler and I’m happy to fish through a shower or something heavier. However, I can’t say I enjoy a torrential downpour and this is what I find when I park at the river. It doesn’t look like easing and I’ve only a couple of hours available.

As I make my way downstream I disturb what I’m pretty sure is a little egret. It clears the tree tops and cuts across the fields before circling back towards the river, no doubt I interrupted it’s late afternoon snack.

Without doubt, the worst thing about fishing in rain is seeing well enough to tie good knots. In the last few years I’ve had to accept that I need reading glasses to see close up and now when fishing I use a small magnifier that attaches to the brim of my cap and folds away when not needed. It won’t win any fashion awards but I find it excellent. Until that is, it rains and then I could do with windscreen wipers.

The river is coloured and pushing through, but not so much as to make things difficult and wading is still comfortable.

Over the last six weeks, a lot of my fishing has been with a dry fly but conditions today suggest nymphs are the way to go.  I target the faster head waters of the pools and it’s not long before I bump off the first fish and then bring another to hand from the same riffle. A small brownie with exquisite red spots.

I’ve worked a lot on my nymphing technique and I’m more comfortable now ‘casting’ the flies but I still get the odd tangle. Today I snatch at what I think is a take and end up with a birds nest that’s largely of my own making as I tug at the line out of frustration. More fun tying knots in the rain.

I force myself to slow down and I’m soon into another good fish, again from the faster water at the head of a pool. The water shallows as I pick my way upstream and I manage two more trout targeting the holding areas just out of the main current.

The second fish is the best of the day and puts up a good scrap, made worse for me as I let him get below. In these conditions and fishing nymphs I’m able to use 4lb Maxima for tippet, so I’m able to bully enough to get him to the net reasonably quickly.

I catch another three from the top of the next pool and just as I’m running out of time, the rain eases to just a light drizzle.

I’ve not seen any surface activity today but as I get close to where I parked up I spot a small rise in a quieter glide, just the other side of a mid-stream island. I glance at my watch and decide I’ve time to swap leader and tie on a dry. After a minute or two I’m wading across to the island trying to stay low. I see the fish rise again.

I squat down and ready myself to cast. As I glance behind to see how much room I have, I lose my balance and topple backwards. I perform the start of an acceptable backwards roll and as my head hits the water, I feel the rush of cold water down the back of my waders. Fortunately, it’s only about a foot and a half deep and I’m back on my feet pretty quickly, with just my pride bruised. Time to call it a day.

It’s quite a while since I fall in properly and it’s a gentle reminder to take more care. At least it’s June and not January.

Back at the car and in the best tradition of a poor workman blaming his tools, I examine my boots and determine that the studs have worn and need replacing!

Mr Notherone

 

My River…

I’m very humbled to have contributed an article in the latest edition of the excellent quarterly Fly Culture Magazine.

The magazine captures “the essence of why we fish and what it means to us”.

If you haven’t come across the publication, check it out at Fly Culture Magazine. I suspect you’ll love it.

Mr Notherone

 

Mayfly Mayhem

There are plenty of past seasons when the revered mayfly period has missed me. Perhaps it’s not being able to get out enough at this time of year and perhaps because recently, there are seasons when I see little in the way of any insect life, let alone the mayfly.

Although you will meet many anglers more in tune with the mayfly hatch, I’ve fished long enough to have caught a few on may duns and spinners. I also know from experience that the mayfly hatch can be very unpredictable.

None the less, I’ve seen some spectacular spinner falls, and few as good as the one I see today.

It’s about 5.30pm when I park up and another thirty minutes before I start to stroll down stream. I stop opposite the pool I want to target and from where I can fish back up, through some varied water, in a few hours.

I have a total of thirteen feet of leader and tippet to which I add a small deer hair emerger, my most successful dry fly this season. Might as well start with a winning formula.

I don’t have to wait long before the first rise and moments later I register my first miss. My fly induces a take, but I’m too slow (or is the fish too fast?). This happens a few more times before I finally bring a lovely small brown trout to hand.

It’s one of those early evenings which has the potential to see some rain. but it holds off and remains overcast. It should be perfect for a hatch and after picking up a few similar trout, the trickle of duns increases.

I fumble my way through my small box of mays, trying several patterns as the hatch increases and I eventually settle on a small danica fly that seems to raise a few fish. Around 8pm the air is thick with spinners of various types and duns are still coming off.

I stand at the edge of a pool that I took my time to approach quietly and now the trout are oblivious to me as the feeding frenzy is all around. The insect cloud is unrelenting and I’m able to pick off fish in all directions, bringing some to the net and bumping a few off. Some of the trout are so close I hold all the fly line off the surface, avoiding any drag. In the fading light as the sun dips behind the trees, it’s a fantastic experience.

As I walk back to the car, I’m sure I have a grin from ear to ear.

This season starts slowly with March a wash off. Now in early June it’s much improved and I’m having more dry fly action than the last few years. Over the next six weeks, I anticipate being able to get out and fish a few more evenings than usual and I feel my grin get even wider.

Mr Notherone