This Is Not The End

A pewter shadow laying on the bottom

Tom and I fished during the last week of September, we thought we were fishing our last session of the trout season but we have since found out the trout season doesn't end until 30th of October - who knew - I always thought the season ended on the 30th of September, lucky buggers aren't we.

I took Tom to a non-club river in deepest East Anglia. On arrival Tom was amazed by the clarity of the water, I think he doubted me when I told him how clear it is. We sat on a well positioned tree trunk in the margins and tackled up; we both elected to fish the duo with almost identical flies on both our set ups, an Adams klinkhamer and copper beadhead pheasant tail nymph were my selected flies and both of use using 8ft 4# rods. The weather was glorious, the occasional gust downstream hampered things, but it was more a slight irritation than a hindrance.

As Tom was the guest he naturally had first go. We entered the river and approached a narrow run that was below a small pool. Vegetation hung over both banks and overhanging trees behind us meant casts had to be accurate, before long Tom hooked a stout branch and was stuck fast. As we had only just started to fish this run Tom elected to keep the line tight as it lay along the bank. Wading in front of Tom I started to fish my way up, very quickly I caught a trout and by the time we reached Tom's flies I had caught three altogether. Lifting in to one fish that had taken the klink, we were both surprised to find the fish landed was fairly hooked with the nymph, I can only assume I was a whisker away from a double up. Tom had some catching up to do, but not before he left the pool amazed at the sheer number of fish in the short run we had fished through; the clarity of water and disturbance of each fish caught, means you'll not really extract the potential from each bit of the river - well I can't at least.

Ahead of us was quite a long riffle, again a small pool started at the top, this run differed from the one we fished as it was shallower, faster with just a gravel bottom, no weed beds here. Overhead trees were the main obstacle here and trees along the far bank didn't help either - the river was only about twelve yards wide so it was tight. The deeper water lay under the trees across the far bank, trying to flick the flies underneath proved hard and Tom had to reach further up with a longer cast above the over-hanging trees allowed the flies to drift freely underneath. It didn't take many drifts before Tom caught his first fish and thus the day continued as we slowly waded up the river.

Tom's first fish

Resting one pool after a couple of fish had been caught, we found a good number of needle flies crawling over the vegetation, I caught a number for both of us to photograph later. In the same spot were some water forget-me-nots, rather pretty little blue flowers and I have since found out the name is applied to many similar flowers rather than just one species.

The only picture I managed to take of the needle flies I caught

Water Forget-me-nots

Reaching a part of the river that opens out we were bathed in sunshine, ahead of us the water funneled between beds of ranunculas; a couple of years ago I had a blinding hour here fishing a hatch of small dark olives. This time the spot wasn't full of fish, although we both managed a couple, it was Tom that struck gold hooking and landing by far the biggest fish of the day - 16" long the fish was a little battled scarred but in superb condition. Tom hooked it tight hard against the right-hand bank and it led him around the pool, more than once the trout made our hearts skip as it tried its best to unhook itself. Some underwater pics were taken on Tom's Olympus camera and so good they were, I intend on buying one for the start of next season.

A superb underwater picture, this really shows how clear the water is

We continued fishing our way upstream and the numbers steadily rose, we had gone beyond the point of being able to keep count, I don't know how Danny manages it, I forget after five most of the time. It really has been such a treat this season to be able to fish with company, of course we perhaps don't always extract the maximum potential, but I haven't blanked at all this season - although many occasions a single fish has saved the day.

Faffing around I missed stoat run along a log that lay across the river, clambering over we found the remains of a small bird, maybe we had disturbed it as we progressed up the river. A kingfisher veered off every time is came across us on its travels, seeing wildlife always completes the day and it's amazing what you'll come across when you're discrete and quiet.

A rather strange occurrence, I managed quite a few fish with many more missed on the klink yet Tom didn't rise a single fish to his; both were the same size, although Tom ties on Daiichi klinkhamer whereas I use the Partridge version and only slight differences in the materials used, there clearly was something about my fly that the fish liked. Our bead-head nymphs were virtually identical and were by far the most successful fly of the day.

My Adams klinkhamer, I rarely tie klinks any other way

A simple copper bead-head PTN

We finished the day by checking out a deep pool protected by several logs spanning across the river, we saw a couple of really large fish and left pondering how we would fish the pool, we guessed around twenty fish in this pool which spooked almost immediately, a challenge indeed. I promised Tom we would come back.

The trout to the right is possibly a four pounder

Northern Distraction

I had another stab at the Don a couple of weeks ago, I took Steve with me and we had another bash at the section I fished with Tom. This time the river was clearer and lower, I knew it would be a struggled and I wasn't proved wrong. It took nearly a full hour before we caught anything, the first fish falling to me which also happened to be the largest of the day. I hadn't been aware that Steve was filming and testing his new Gopro out, he made a short video from the footage.

So we trundled upstream fishing through all the likely looking runs, some produced may didn't, what I found really surprising is the number of spots that produced plenty of fish previously failed to yield anything at all - very frustrating.

We didn't quite reach the point where Tom and I finished, but we did walk much further downstream before starting, so we probably did fish the same amount of water. The clearer water meant the brash, brightly coloured bead head nymphs were out, the more subtle but ubiquitous copper bead was firm favourite; we did also catch a fair number of fish on dry flies too as we were both fishing the duo method. Despite the conditions being difficult we still managed to catch double figures each, with an even spread of trout and grayling; hopefully next time there'll be a little more water in the river.

In Memorium

It's been hectic recently. My second child, a boy, was born a fortnight ago so priorities have shifted somewhat along with my time being taken up in fatherly duties and of course that's how it should be. However, I'm sure I'm not alone in getting itches when I don't escape for a short length of time - such is the draw that flowing water holds over me.

I was fortunate enough to have been able to take part in a friendly match in memory of Gary Hyde who sadly passed away last year. Although I had only spoken to Gary a couple of times, his posts on the flyfishingforums were always ones I wanted to read, generous with his knowledge and always friendly.

The match had been arranged by Danny and was well attended by many from the northern region; myself and Tom represented the south. The match was held in Sheffield on various parts of the River Don. Sections of the river were split in to beats, thankfully there were no fights over the stretches, Tom and I teamed up and headed to the beat that conveniently was closest to where we had all met up - no worries about finding parking.

After a short five minute walk we arrived at the river, damn did it look good. Peering through the undergrowth, we spied a fish rising on the edge of a seam, in the middle of a lively run. Trampling our way through balsam and bramble progress was slow but we eventually worked a little way downstream; conveniently we found ourselves and the bottom end of another tantalising pool. As Tom had already set up he had first dibs while I quietly tackled up on the side-line, we both chose to fish a french leader although later on Tom changed over to the duo and single dry; we used each others rod depending on what tactic would suit the particular piece of water we had in front of us.

It only took a couple of minutes and half a dozen casts before Tom landed the first fish of the day, a grayling, from there on we took turns catching a fish each and passing the rod over - not the most efficient way to catch and yes although it was a competition of sorts, we were happy to be there. We both believe fishing like that is really fishing with someone, rather than both fishing near one another but not actually fishing with each other.

Tom's first fish

Our pace was slow as we worked upstream and I'm sure we could have covered a lot more river by the end of the day, but there wasn't really any rush and it was great just to be fishing somewhere different - I have only fished the River Don twice, both were winter trips, the last being a short three hour session curtailed by persistent rain and rising water.

Overall we fished a tad over half a mile of river concentrating on the faster sections working our way through some superb pools. The thing that amazed us was the sense that you weren't fishing in the middle of a large city, the river was tree-lined for the most part and apart from the occasional building butting up against the river bank it was easy to forget where you were.

White bead head pheasant tail nymph, tied with melanistic
 pheasant tail, courtesy of Matt Eastham

Pink bead head nymph, brown partridge for tail,
biot body and Hends peacock spectre dubbing

 Most of the fish fell to small tungsten bead-head nymphs, normally I tend to only use copper beads of various sizes, this time I stepped out of my comfort zone. A white bead pheasant tail nymph as tied by Matt Eastham who drew inspiration from Gary and a biot bodied nymph with a pink bead were the stand-out flies of the day; it will be interesting to see if flies with brighter beads would work on my own club rivers which run much clearer. What we found interesting was most of the trout we caught fell to the pink bead nymph whereas the white bead nymph picked up the grayling, although I suspect this was more to do with the flies placement on the leader than the colours of the beads.

Despite it raining most of the morning we encountered rising fish, although we couldn't really see anything hatching off there were plenty of chironomid shucks floating past; later on the we fished a small hatch of second brood large dark olives - smaller than the spring hatch - but perfectly imitated by a size 16 Barbour paradun, the fish taking the midges were occasionally fooled by a size 24 (old size) black klinkhamer, we generally found the fish taking the midges particularly difficult to deceive.

We finished with seventeen fish each, the ratio was probably two-thirds grayling; Tom caught the biggest fish, a trout of 15", unfortunately the fish didn't want its picture taken and I only managed to get a snap of it right before it fell out of his hands.

As an aside it was the first time I used a new wading jacket that I received as a birthday present. Extremely well priced, a snippet at £39.99 delivered from Caimore vie eBay and it performed exceptionally well. Despite the continued rain I didn't get wet except for when I failed to put the hood up. If you want performance at a reasonable cost then I seriously recommend you have a look at this jacket.

Largest fish of the day, just before Tom dropped it

Sculpins

I have been wanting to get a fur coat for quite a long time, the reason, to tie up some bullhead/sculpin patterns; it is the most effective way to get a large quantity of fur on hide. I haven't fished with streamers for a few years but now I'm beginning to tie some up I can't wait to trow them out there among the monsters; of course the smaller ones eat them too.

A simple fly really, I have used a Daiichi 2546 salt water hook in size 4 with a double layer of medium lead wire superglued and flattened with pliers to create a wide but slim profile. The main body of the fly is a zonker strip cut from the hide - you can see the shape of the body in the pictures below - the lead is covered with dubbing to match the hide, with a small hot-spot of red to imitate the gills. The head is fur cut from the hide and spun in a dubbing loop or split thread as I have done. Trim the head and zonker body to shape. You can add some barring using a dark brown marker pen, brush the fur when the ink has dried.

Of course there are some elements missing - I don't have any eyes to attach to the fly and I haven't tied anything in for the pectoral fins - I doubt it will make much difference and maybe the next few will incorporate them.

My forum name isn't sculpincrusader for nothing!!

Inpursuitofspotties is on Facebook

For those who are on Facebook but weren't yet aware I set up a Facebook page just before the season started, it allowed me to post quick snippets and pictures where a full blog wasn't necessary.

Please take the time to follow the link inpursuitofspotties and like my page to see the latest news of my fishing escapades.

Urban Bonanza And A Strange Evening

Another lunchtime finish on Friday - I think I've only fished once in the morning before work so far this season. Tom was working at home and would be joining me later on, I had already planned my afternoon and knew where I wanted to fish.

There is a section on the urban river I fish that remains relatively untouched, this is because it is penetrable; concrete banks encased by a canopy of tree branches and a barricade of brambles at the top of the banks, means it cannot be fished from the bank. During the early part of the season you can see a good number of fish before the leaves obscure the view so there ought to be fish around. Fishing here also gave me an excuse to use my much favoured six foot rod, that said side casting would still be the order of the day.

Walking downstream to just beyond the trees I spotted a rather nice grayling, at least for this part of the river. Easing into the river above the fish; obstructions meant a traditional upstream approach was impossible. Standing in the edge of the river I quietly set up while allowing my surroundings to settle.

Ahead of me and across the far side a fish rose directly above a small bush that hung over the river's surface. Unable to refuse a rising fish I tied on a quill bodied cdc shuttlecock, a small trout threw itself on to the hook. The rises stopped after that, but I guess a fish is a fish.

Turning around and moving downstream a little I took the shuttlecock off and replaced it with a Utah Killer Bug, I find this a devastating pattern for grayling all year round. First cast landed the fly upstream and to the side, I watched as the grayling drifted side-wards and engulfed the fly. A firm lift gave way to the sinuous gyrating fight so typical of grayling; held in my hand it was a pristine male fish of about thirteen inches, defiantly holding its dorsal up, a great start.

Climbing back out of the river a very short walk took me to the beginning of my intended spot, a cautious clamber down a four foot concrete bank started things off. I spooked a couple of very small trout that kindly shot downstream as I waded slowly over to the left bank. Ahead of me a branch thick with leaves blocked my view, using it to my advantage I stalked forward using it as a screen. As I stood behind the branch I could see two fish a couple of yards in front. With the UKB still tied on I executed possibly one of the shortest bow and arrow casts ever, a small grayling intercepted the fly as it drifted towards me. Pulling the fish downstream quickly and releasing it allowed me to repeat the proceedure, landing another small trout.

Unable to see clearly in to the water ahead of me to took off the UKB and tied in a size 16 All Purpose Terrestrial, with all the cover any fish ahead of me should be used to small things dropping in the surface. Wading slowly up produced a few more trout with many more spooked, the low slow flows not helping things, perhaps I'd be better visiting earlier in the season, normally the river here moves along briskly.

At the very top a small weir forms a convenient boundary, it is often quite productive but again the low flows and excessive weed made the pool virtually inhabited except for a plump ten inch fish which was the biggest trout from the urban river.

I moved upstream to another weir, this one generally being very productive. As I reached the pool I could see a small group of roach holding station in quite a flow over gravel in shallow water. It was one of these that I caught first, not big but absolutely perfect. Then followed a succession of small trout and another good-sized grayling that disappeared before I could take a picture. As I left the pool my tally was thirteen trout, three grayling and a roach, superb sport.

Walking back towards the car a spotted a couple of large trout milling about in an over-wide, slow section of river. Keeping low on he high bank I was crafty enough to get the klink and dink out near one of them, as the JP Pupa slowly sank I watched as the fish swam and sucked in the fly. Despite my fly line hanging over a thin branch it didn't impede in the strike, though maybe it did as the fly fell out after a few seconds, I was pretty gutted really that fish was easy over two pounds, oh well I don't win them all.

By this point it was time for me to meet Tom, after a fifteen minute drive I arrived at our bottom-most fly beat; I waited a while before Tom showed up. We walked the end of the beat, I had changed rods, taking my Lexa with me and intending to set up a french leader, Tom had his 8' four weight and opted to fish dries, we agreed to use which ever rod suited the particular bit of water we were fishing.

After faffing around looking at the very bottom end of the beat we settled on a short glide below a pool on a sharp bend. We saw many small dark caddis fluttering in little swarms, Tom tied on a dark deer hair winged caddis with a hares ear body. After many casts and a couple of missed rises, Tom caught a grayling, a great start for him. I fished a lot of water before I too finally caught a grayling using the French leader, another followed; although we had seen trout, so far there was not a sniff from one.

It wasn't until we fished a deep pool did we see the only trout of the evening. Tom had fished first without success and I persevered eventually being rewarded. Using the French leader again I changed the point fly to a 3mm tungsten bead JP Pupa, the pool being particularly deep. Although the fish wasn't huge at sixteen inches it was very welcome and provided a great scrap on the three weight Lexa.

More than satisfied we skirted a lot of river, most sections are bank to bank weed and low flows meant a lot of water was devoid of fish. Arriving at another deep pool, we could see many fish ahead of us against the light sandy bottom. This pool is quite long in comparison to most on the river, what I'd consider a proper pool in the traditional sense, though it doesn't have a shallow tail. The grayling frustrated Tom, the trout were still conspicuous in their absence but he did manage a couple more grayling. After unsuccessfully trying the head of the pool a large trout shot past as we waded through, really should have put more effort it.

By now it was getting dark, we tried a pool that has fished well previously, last time I fished there, there was a cracking medium olive hatch. With the river so low and lacking flow the dynamics of the pool had changed, either way nothing moved and we walked up on to the riffle above. Ahead of this was a long stretch of generally uniform channel and flow. The light had almost gone, Tom and I have been talking about glow in the dark flies, a la Glen Pointon. Tom was the first to experiment, a glow in the dark post klinkhamer the first offering. More just to see what the fly looked like on the water Tom had half a dozen casts in the smooth water ahead of us. One drift was quietly interrupted by a tiny rise in the middle of the river, Tom lifted in to the fish and we were both left in shock as the rod jagged ferociously, the line parted quickly, the only evidence that remained was a boil in the surface that faded as it drifted down in the current. That concluded the end of our evening, on the walk back to the car we couldn't help but talk of that fish and the comparative absence of trout, a rather strange evening.