Trout Season is Over

The trout season was rounded off with a trip down to Salisbury and a visit to a couple of beats on the Avon. The first port of call was new water to me and, to be honest, I fished it poorly. Despite signs of feeding fish I just never got into the swing of things and fished poorly and managed to miss the couple of rises that I was able to attract. I was fishing with a 9’ 5 weight rather than my more usual 7’9” 3 weight and to be honest the bigger stick did feel rather unwieldy. I fared rather better at the, more familiar, second venue and was able to bring several fish to hand, the pick of which was an 18” wild brown.

With the trout season now over I can also end my self imposed limit of 5 flies. I don’t feel that I suffered at all this year in terms of catch rate. Although I probably fished less this year than last year, a depressingly consistent trend, at no point did I find myself cursing an inability to select from a larger selection of flies. However I did find myself chafing a little when sat at the vice, there were a couple of times that I would have liked to select from a broader palette of materials. In terms of the actual patterns I did not have occasion to use the spent pattern at all and I, for some unknown reason I just did not fancy the shuttlecock pattern. In terms of the remaining 3 patterns the fish were fairly evenly spread between them, perhaps slightly favouring the CDC Emerger which indicates little other than my own bias – it is a pattern I have always liked. I had not used the CDC Dun pattern at all before this season and I have to say that it was a really good pattern when naturals were on the water and certainly justified the embuggeration factor involved in winding and varnishing stripped quills. 

Satisfaction

First trip of the season down to Salisbury on Friday. The intention was to fish the Bourne at Laverstock but all the indications from the SADAC website where that the beat was pretty weedy. On arrival this was certainly my finding. Even though there were fishable spots in the beat I really was not in the mood to spend the day struggling to get the fly in the water. Apparently the EA do not consent to weedcuts in the Bourne. I have to admit that I do wonder what the impact of predators may be on shoals of fish tucked into what little open water is available.

So I then trekked over to the Avon at Durrington and made my way to the wading section of the beat. No particular activity was immediately apparent but it is remarkable what will be revealed to the angler willing to spend a few minutes doing nothing particular than observing and thinking. A trickle of hatching olives were enough to keep the fish looking up and careful observation revealed fish intercepting the emerging insects. So on with the CDC Emerger and time to get into position to cast at a feeding fish. To be entirely frank the session that finished was the very epitome of chalkstream dry fly fishing that I am sure I am not alone in dreaming about during the close season. I had inspections, refusals, fish coming short to the fly and a few long distance releases. The absolute cream of the afternoon were the two wild fish that came towards the end of the session. Both required a decent cast and a drag free drift. And on each occasion I was rewarded with the sight of the fish spotting and intercepting my artificial.

I have to admit that I wrapped up the afternoon pretty shortly after that as I could not envisage it getting any better. I think I have now ‘grown up’ to the point that fishing is no longer a numbers game and it is more about the challenge of catching the fish that I want in the way I wanted it.

In terms of the fly it was the CDC Emerger in size 14 all the way. Looking at the naturals a size 16 would have been better; that was certainly my thought when a couple of trout came short or refused the fly. I have no defence though, I have always been a lazy tyer.

Mayfly....

…..just! I was able to free up a little time on Friday afternoon so was able to fish the last day of May with the chance of seeing a ‘proper’ Mayfly hatch. I had noticed the odd dun on my previous visit but not something I would describe as a hatch. I thought to myself that it would be good, given the slow start that we have had this year, to experience a Mayfly hatch in May.

Mid afternoon saw a few duns coming off in a trickle but no real interest from the trout. I was scouting up and down the river trying to find some fish ‘working’ the hatch and was perched on the side of the bank peering intently upstream when I heard the distinctive sound of a fast slashy rise from the riffle immediately behind me. Now I know that I have written before that I have ignored riffles in the past but I did not need a second invitation on this occasion and crept away from the bank and slipped back into the river a little way downstream and began to cast the fly up into the riffle. The fly was making its third journey back down towards me when it was simply engulfed and I was attached to something muscular and angry. After a couple of hairy moments 13 inches of trout were in the net and returned in short order. And from this point on the session turned the corner and I was able to fish up to the top of the beat spotting rising trout working into position and trying to get some response from each. A lot of fun and a fair few fish were brought to hand and one or two I will have to return to another time. In terms of fly I the CDC & Elk in size 12 was a passable imitation of the dun but I would have liked a larger pattern in, say a size 10, with a a pheasant tail fibres as a tail. But I have not afforded myself this degree of latitude this year! But I think it would be fair to say that the sport on the afternoon did not suffer as a consequence of my artificial constraint.

Things are looking up.....

This was the first visit to the river conducted this season conducted with a degree of expectation rather than hope. Temperatures have begun to rise and it is beginning to feel springlike. On arrival I noted a sporadic hatch of LDO’s and with some very careful observation it was possible to find evidence of feeding fish in the riffles. Not too many but more than enough to pique interest and occupy the mind.

On with the stripped quill dun and into the river to start stalking the rising fish. It seems funny now but for my first few seasons of river fishing I actively ignored riffles and ‘busier’ stretches of water as I felt that there was too much to contend with in terms of managing drag and seeing the fly and as a consequence I managed to convince myself that there were no fish in those spots anyway. So I made life so much easier for myself by concentrating on the smooth glides! Happily I have managed to disabuse myself of this notion. Of course fishing these areas does demand more application (in terms of drag management) and concentration (in terms of being able to see the fly) but the rewards are there for the diligent.

On this occasion a short session resulted in three brown trout being bought to hand, all as a result of having been targeted and cast at. The stripped quill dun is a new fly to me and I have to say that it looks fabulous but my efforts need to be a little more durable and could do with another CDC feather to aid floatation.

Exclusive fishing....

…………available to anybody with a rod licence!

I am happy to report that things are finally picking up. The rather dour river of only a few weeks ago has been replaced by a rather more vibrant and verdant character. Flies are hatching and the trout have thrown off their torpor and are now actively feeding. In short the exact conditions that I spent the close season dreaming of.

Two short sessions this weekend, both on stretches I have not visited previously this season. Both are public access water. Friday evening was a case of getting into the river and seeing what was happening. Medium Olives and Sedges were hatching and the fish were responding with enthusiasm. The fish that were presenting themselves appeared to be actively patrolling the water and moving to intercept flies. But this was a buffet meal and they were availing themselves of whatever was available. To underlne this I had interest in all four of the patterns that I presented and was able to bring fish to hand on the CDC Emerger, the CDC & Elk and the Stripped Quill Dun (SQD). It was a fun session that was brought to an abrupt close when the temperature dropped and the fish simply turned off.

Sunday morning was quite a contrast. Again a variety of invertebrates were coming off the water but on this occasion fish were all high in the water and locked on to the Medium Olive. I worked this out when the CDC & Elk warranted no more interest than a couple of ‘boils’. On with the SQD and presented correctly then there was a sporting chance of success.

 Spotted the first couple of Mayfly this weekend as well so Duffers Fortnight is imminent.

Better days are coming

It is warming up, albeit not as fast as I would like. It is not feeling like late April. For me one of the hazards of combining fishing with a busy family life is that fishing has to be shoehorned into where it fits, rather than where I would ideally place it. This is especially acute in the early season as a consequence of the most productive parts of the days being quite short and the fact that it has been so long since I have been able to fish for trout.  

So on Saturday I was sat in a town centre café having a sandwich when the conditions were ideal and was not able to get into the river before late Sunday afternoon when the conditions had deteriorated. Still I was in the river and that was all that was important at that time. The river levels had dropped a little, clarity was improving and there was some evidence of fish feeding on the surface. I had a session prospecting a streamy little stretch and had some attention to the CDC and Elk, a trout dropping off after a very brief tussle.

Better days are coming.

First of the year

Saturday was the first vaguely springlike day of the year, however the wind still had some teeth though. My first thoughts were that there was a lot of water in the river but the clarity was surprisingly good. Combine this with the bright skies and the omens were not too promising. 

The walk down to the start of the beat failed to show any signs of feeding fish despite the odd Large Dark Olive. Got to the bottom and started setting up the rod. Frankly this had all the hallmarks of a day for nymphing. A scenario not really accommodated in my abridged set of flies for 2013!

So having failed to find any visibly feeding fish it was a fruitless visit in terms of trouty action. However it was good to be out again and to prove that I could still present a fly and lay a line on the water. And it was especially heartening to spy lots of juvenile fish in the rejuvenated tributary stream.

The river still in its winter wardrobe.....

The near obligatory rod and reel shot.....

A little bit daunted now....

So this is the sum total of materials and tools that I will use this year;

And they all fit in here (yes the vice as well!);

But I can delay the inevitable no more, the season is coming;

This year...

Let’s look forwards and embrace the challenges to come, with a deferential nod to the year recently passed. With all this in mind I would love to achieve the following this year, however I fully anticipate that at least one of the following will make it onto next years edition,  

Complete outstanding rods

I like starting builds. I am not very good at finishing them. I could provide a raft of seemingly rational arguments why this is the case. All would be skirting the truth. The real reason is that I am a little bit scared of the process of applying the finish. I have had mixed results, from the acceptable to the disastrous. This year I need to grasp the nettle. Rod turner is en route and I am returning to Flex Cote Lite. It is the finish with which I have had the best results

Not buy any new rods or blanks

See above! I really don’t need them.

Get up to the Monnow

I am a little bit ashamed to realise that I have not been to these enchanted valleys since the fag end of the 2011 season. A fabulous day fishing up the length of the Lower Escley in that last visit provided many sustaining memories. I need more.

Fish the Grannom

I have tended to be a slow starter to the trout season, not putting in any concerted effort until the Hawthorns are in the air. I understand that I may have been denying myself some fabulous sport. Plonker

Cast less, fish more

I think this is the one that stands the greatest chance of being a repeat entry next year. I promise myself this each year. Frankly I struggle to contain my enthusiasm and I have developed the rather irritating habit on confusing casting with fishing. What nonsense. This year I will study to be quiet. I promise.

The bare minimum?

OK, I will come clean. I don’t really like tying. But I really don’t want to have to go back to buying my flies. In addition to the expense I just know, because my organisational skills are lacking, that I would end up in the situation where I was able to go fishing but I would be without suitable ammunition. Knocking up half a dozen flies on spec is something that I can just about cope with.

My rule of thumb is that I will not even attempt a fly if it is going to take more than 5 minutes. For me that now means that parachute flies are pretty much out of the window and I have found that I am now fishing a pretty generic range of patterns that can be adapted in terms of size and colouration to suit the conditions.

So the logical extension for me as to consider what is the minimum number of patterns that could be fished during the entire season. Well here they are,

Time to get the vice out now!  

Distant Relatives.....

Here is a picture of a trout caught a couple of summers ago in my local stream, the River Wey,

This is not atypical of the larger trout in the river. At the time I could not help thinking that it looked a little bit familiar and I remember thinking that this trout was reminiscent of trout from New Zealand that I had seen. A little bit of research online resulted in lots of detail.

Fortunately Charles Rangeley-Wilson had previously compiled all the detail into the following fascinating article, originally published in 'The Field',

Before the 4th May 1864 there were no trout in the southern hemisphere. Many had thought that there never would be: “You may as well try to fetch Australia to England as to carry spawn to it in moss,” wrote Robert Ramsbottom, an eminent breeder of salmon, to James Youl, the man trying to take them there.

Homesick colonial fishermen eyed their local streams with longing. Wherever the map was red, and land was high enough and water cold enough, new world fishermen imagined scenes of highland bliss in their adopted lands; of “bringing the lordly salmon to grass among picturesque granitic hills, which may well recall many a wild scene in the highlands of bonnie Scotland, or the softer glories of the Irish lakes,” wrote Arthur Nicols.

If the physical difficulties of carrying trout and salmon 16,000 miles on a voyage lasting three months were considerable, the Victorians never questioned the ethics of success, even though the new “exotics” would most likely oust the native fish. “Though a distant and obscure relative (of the trout) is found in some rivers of India, and another in New Zealand and the Falkland Islands, no one ignorant of anatomy would suspect the remotest connection of these imposters with the noble stock.”

Shipping out the best of the old world to the new in the mid-nineteenth century was nothing more than a good idea, and the Victorians played God in doing so. 

By 1861 the Acclimatisation Society of Victoria had filled the Melbourne Gardens with camels, magpies, skylarks, Angora goats, and English pheasants, among a host of other beasts, and the thrush, blackbird and starling could be heard in all directions. But there weren’t any trout.

In 1860 they employed James Youl to pack 30,000 salmon ova from the Dovey. The S Curling left Liverpool on February 25, eight years after a Mr Boccius had tried to ship trout to Tasmania and failed, the ova shaken and parboiled by the time they reached the tropics. This time, Youl’s apparatus was ingenious and complicated. The ice house was lined with lead, and charcoal. Above it, a water tank with a pipe passing round the ice, spilled cold water onto the ova, which lay on gravel swing-trays on an incline. But the ova died. More ice was needed.

Next time, the ice melted when the ship was no further south than on the first voyage, and there were protests in the press about misuse of money. But Youl had discovered the principle of success when he included a small pine box of ova and moss, and placed it in the middle of the ice.

After a series of experiments in the vaults of the Wenham Lake Ice Company in London, he found that he could dispense with the gimbals, swing trays and plumbing, and simply pack the eggs in ice. He took pleasure in proving his critics wrong. We “exhumed one of the boxes containing ova that had been buried (as many persons prognosticated, in their icy graves) on the 17th January last. I cannot describe the anxiety of all present to get a first sight of these ova, or the pleasure visible on every countenance to find as the moss (shrouds, as many expected) was removed, our little friends alive and perfectly healthy.” 

In January 1864 the Norfolk sailed with 100,000 salmon and 3000 trout ova packed under fifty tons of ice. Eighty-four days later she dropped anchor in Hobson’s Bay, Melbourne. Half the shipment was quickly transferred by steamship to Tasmania, transferred again into a barge which was towed to the wharf at New Norfolk. By sunrise the next day fifty men and ten teams of horses were waiting. Boxes and ice were slung in blankets on bamboo poles and walked overland to the hatching ponds on the River Plenty. Of the three thousand trout ova, 200 hatched.

James Youl had done the impossible, but Youl was always too modest. His friend Frank Buckland who had helped with some of the experiments inspired the wrath of Arthur Nicols for taking credit that didn’t belong to him. Nicols wrote to the Field: “I wish to give him (Frank Buckland) the opportunity of unbinding the wreath of triumph from his brows. The whole of the success has been claimed by Mr Buckland repeatedly, and he has not been careful to disavow the honour at all times in all places.”

As it happened, that voyage was the first and only successful shipment of brown trout to Tasmania. Most of the time and money was spent sending out salmon ova. 867,000 were taken in ten voyages between 1861 and 1879, though they never established themselves in the south seas. Of those original 200 trout hatchlings, 30 escaped into the River Plenty, and six pairs survived in the ponds to spawn. The great grandparents of every brown trout in every river in Tasmania, Australia and New Zealand.

They grew well too. Ten years on a trout of over 16 lbs was caught in the Tasmanian Derwent, one of 5 1/2 lb was caught in the River Clyde, and a Mr Weaver took six trout weighing 30 lbs. Writers got carried away, with a mixture of wishful thinking and apocaliptic vision: “Long after our home fish have attained so critical an experience as to know at a glance the maker of the fly offered them – they really seem to be coming to this – the unsophisticated denizens of Australia will rush at the grasshopper impaled on the bent pin of the rustic urchin. Long before the end of this century when a growing population shall have driven the salmon in disgust from most of our rivers, the sportsman will take his rod, and seek among the fern covered ranges of the Australian Alps, and the deep tarns and pools of Tasmania and New Zealand, the noble quarry which has found a home in the antopdes.” 

Looked at from our end of history there might well have been a dose of arrogance behind the acclimatisation movement. You have to be sure of your place in the universe to look at a native species, and call it an “imposter”. And yet southern hemisphere trout fishing is big tourism industry now, and one which governments seem determined to protect. The Victorian spirit which we might question today has undoubtedly given us a magnificent legacy. It is ironic that those New Zealand brown trout came from two home-counties streams that have been wiped out by pollution: the Wey and The Wick. The Wick famous for its strain of beautiful, fast-growing trout. We might well end up shipping them back.

Final point to note is that there is no need to ship them back to the Wey, the trout are doing pretty well by themselves!