Category — Big trips

Nine days of fishing. For anyone less than a guide or a professional trout bum, it’s a good stretch. For the first few days it’s a novelty, then it begins to feel strangely normal. Casting becomes more natural, presentation more consistent, fly choice oddly instinctive. It’s almost like finding an activity that draws on all one’s spirit, slowly moulding everything together to fit some kind of focussed purpose. When a ‘normal’ day involves nine hours at a desk, it’s a deeply satisfying purpose to feel, even if it lasts just a few days.

The North is really about the lochs. There are thousands of them, scattered all across the land and each one with a particular character. It’s probably a good analogy to imagine the landscape as a giant bowl of curry. There are endless chunks of onion (the ‘typical’ lochs), punctuated by the occasional tomato (the ‘better’ lochs), and the odd rare and prized piece of tender lamb (the ’special’ lochs). As with curry, it’s no use having just one ingredient: variety is truly the spice of life and the huge variety of Scottish lochs provides hope for a lifetime of interesting fishing. Lochs brim-full with pretty wee brownies desperate to eat a fly are sometimes exactly what is called for after a day fruitlessly chasing after the tenderest lamb. But on the days when the butcher is kind, a lifelong memory can be found in the glistening bronze flank of a 2lb belter. It’s all in the mix.
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“We are the dollars and cents and the pounds and pence”. (TY)

Probably a thousand quid of rods and narry a fish. April on Tay.
Beautiful.

It’s been difficult to reach the heights of our northern trip in the last few weeks. In fact the fishing has been at best difficult, and at worst useless. I’ve found myself on some usual haunts, as well as a couple of new ones. But the running theme has been one of dour days and precious few fish.

The weather has been unseasonably warm, but it seems the fish just don’t look out for sunglasses weather when it comes time to think about getting it on. Despite all things it has really begun to feel like the clouds of another season are beginning to be blown away. It’s a funny feeling really, because while I feel sad to know the season will soon pass, I also know that there have been some great moments that can only ripen in the memory. All that is needed is a winter break to focus the mind anew and bring the excitement of a fresh spring.

Ealier in September we took a wee jaunt up to Perthshire to fish a couple of rivers for a weekend. It coincided with a family celebration (no coincidence) so of course fishing had to be a major feature. The first afternoon was hot and bright, and we struggled away on a lovely little stream full of pocket water and banked by old Scots woodland. A couple of small trout provided minor breaks in the blanking, but this was perhaps a day for enjoying some of the other distractions of a highland stream.

The next day we headed off to a much larger river, and managed to time things pretty well. Soon after arriving some trout started to feed on a small hatch of late olives. We took a few pretty fish to the usual patterns, DHE and a little dun creation of mine that’s been doing quite well this season. A little voice in my head suggested that this might have been the last worthwhile rise of the season. Little voices are often right.

In some ways loch fishing in Scotland is like finding a good plumber: it’s a lot easier if you know where to look. Next best thing is to know what to look for, and for loch fishing it’s pretty common for the best, most productive lochs to be quite shallow. For plumbers, well I don’t really have a clue..

In the far North there are plenty of lochs that fit this description. What makes things really happen though is some of the geology. It’s limey. As in the limescale on my kettle. Which is good, at least for bugs like freshwater shrimp:

Trout that eat lots of shrimp tend to be more sophisticated, discerning creatures, appreciating a nice bottle of Rioja with their supper. It’s the wine that makes their flesh pink and tasty. We don’t kill a lot of fish to be honest, but just had to try these famous Northern beauties, and we weren’t dissapointed. The fish below was actually returned, but gives a good impression of the superb condition of many of the trout. Prettier and healthier fish you will be hard pressed to find.

Buzzers apparently feature a lot on some of the Northern lochs, and on some evenings they certainly made a big showing, managing to get all over your face and in places you never imagined possible..

We fished a whole bunch of lochs on our trip, catching in almost every one. There was occasionally the tantalising prospect of some daddy longlegs action, but they never really got going properly whilst we were up. Nonetheless there was one lovely afternoon when I caught a nice handful to a daddy pattern I ‘invented’ the night before. It maybe wasn’t as pretty as some I’ve seen but it was effective. Let’s just say it involved a lot of polypropylene yarn and half a hare’s mask.

The fish in this loch were a good bit darker than some of the others we’d been catching, but were fantastic as well. I’d never caught on daddy’s before, and it was an amazing sight as fish confindently gulped down the fly. I found a nice bay and carefully wading down into it, casting across the wind and letting the flies drift downwind, like fishing traditional wet flies on a river. At one stage I saw a daddy fly past the line and clumsily hit the water. As it tried to get airborne again I made a bet with myself that it would get eaten, and sure enough, a few seconds later there was a big swirl and the Big Daddy was a gonner.

There was one particularly engaging loch we fished a couple of times. This loch was right near the sea, providing an extra thrill to the whole experience. The first day we were down we ran smack bang into the middle of a nice olive hatch. The old DHE did some nice work for us as usual, cast to rising trout. We found a few larger fish but couldn’t get near without spooking, as it was very calm and the wading was fun. In the evening the big rise we were hoping for didn’t really come, but it was a great place to watch the sun and sky and catch the odd brownie.

Fishing for two weeks is a bit strange for folks normally doing so only once or twice a week. At first you find yourself thinking it’s great, but you know it’s only for a wee while so make the most of it. But then I found I just stopped thinking about it, and just fished and fished, like it’s what I was designed to do. You get up, schmooze on some brekkie and decide which loch to head for. And the next day. And the next. A great feeling.

Not surprisingly you also find yourself getting noticably better at the whole shubang. Not just the casting, but reading the conditions, choosing the presentation. It feels like the more you fish the more you manage to unblock the sink that’s keeping your fishing a drip-drap instead of a gurgling rush! By the end of the trip I think we both felt like we’d reached a better level in this kind of fishing, which is great.

Need to go for longer next time..

The lack of updates lately is generally due to one of two reasons: not much fishing, or masses of it. For once it has been the latter, as I have been off fishing all over the north of Scotland. There are really too many lochs to write about, for the sake of boredom on the part of the author and any readers, so over the next wee while I’ll put up a few posts about some of the more memorable days.

Now there are literally thousands of lochs in Scotland, from minute peaty cess-pits to grand limestone beauties. I personally love to fish pretty much anywhere that’s wild (which is almost all of it), and preferably out of the way, at least in terms of distance from cities (ditto). But, for the average fly angler there are a few lochs that stand out, and we were no different. I won’t go into too many details of precicely where (as usual) because that would spoil the fun. Doesn’t matter really, there’s so much good fishing to be had.

The loch this post is about managed to leave a very strong impression on us. It wasn’t always easy, but when things were on, they were seriously on. We caught some lovely fish, almost all of which came to sedges fished from mid to late evening. Now I am really a riverman at heart, but there were a few nights where the fishing experience rivalled any I’ve ever done anywhere. In some ways it’s like fishing the tail of a nice pool, where the water is glassy and rises look big and inviting.

Never before have I come into the company of fish of such quality rising all around. A good percentage of the fish I usually catch do well to reach half a pound, which is absolutely fine by me. But just occasionally to get a few larger fish can really make your day.

Most nights I used just one fly, a size 14 DHS with a dark black/claret body. One evening there was a bit of a buzzer hatch, and a wee Shipmans buzzer did some good work for me. During the day, DHE’s were often very useful. The key was good presentation and accurate casting. I think in this respect hard learnt skills from river dry fly fishing stand you in very good stead on a loch during a rise. The goal was to land the sedge right in the middle of the rise, or better, a meter or two in the direction that the fish appeared to be moving when it rose. A little patience was sometimes needed, but very often a good cast brought a good fish.

I remember there was a post not long ago about fishing a spinner fall on a river. These nights were the loch version, but brought no less of a banana-grin to the cheeks. Casting a fly at rises on a pink loch surface at 10pm in August.. difficult to describe how fantastic it felt.

Oddly enough my best fish came during a difficult day on the boat. The conditions in the morning had been flat calm, warm, bright. Mid afternoon and a sudden norwester picked up and within seconds there were splashy rises. A good drift was quickly set up, and it wasn’t too long before a savage take to the sedgehog signalled a cracking fight with a beautiful two pounder. I find almost any trout to be pretty, but I have to say this fish was the healthiest, most athletic and wonderfully conditioned fish I’ve ever seen. Looked a dead ringer for those outragous New Zealand brownies with prominent kypes and charcoal spots. A special fish. Shame about the photo which does so little justice I’m not sure it’s worth posting.

The brother did really well too, taking a enviable string of cracking fishing throughout the week. Of course he needed my deadly flies, but who doesn’t..

Fishing the lochs up there is something to be savoured and enjoyed. Day to day work life definitely concentrates the mind when on a proper fishing break and makes all the experiences memorable. Plans are already formulating for next year..

Back from my northern trip. Feeling a bit depressed now, but I will have a few fishy stories to tell in the coming days. Stay tuned..!

The time has finally arrived to look North. I will be doing a lot of fishing in the next couple of weeks, I hope. Here’s to the last days of summer

So it’s been ages since I posted any fishing trips. It’s not that I haven’t been fishing. On the contrary, I’ve been fishing a lot. I took a psychological blow (!) when my last update crashed after typing for ages (my fault for not backing it up as I went) which together with my craptastic computer have held me back. I have a new computer coming though, so expect much more frequent updates to start soon.

In the meantime, I returned from the second mamoth fishing expedition inside of 2 weeks yesterday. The first one has already had a grand write up which I have a go at myself soon. This latest trip took in a couple of the same rivers, this time accompanied by my fine brother. The plan was to camp and fish and catch. However if there’s one thing I have really learnt about fly fishing, it’s to never ever go fishing with expectations of anything. Just be prepared for whatever happens and be happy to be out there. I try to live by this wee mantra, but I usually end up getting annoyed with myself all the same when I feel I’m particularly cocking up (this is quite often). So all of this to say it wasn’t exactly spectacular fishing wise, but once again it was a fine old trip with much jolity and even some sunburn. And I got plenty time for more bug photos.

The first day we blanked. Lost a couple wee fish, but all in all very quiet. Almost no rises all day, which was quite different to the previous trip. There were gazillions of terrestrials about and even a good few sedges and some olives, but they were never on the water in enough numbers to encourage a proper rise. It was good to see some soldier beetles ambling around. They really look fantastic under a macro lens. I actually have an imitation of this bug in my fly box, though I’ve never used it.

Don’t know what these guys were.. green beetle was as technical as I fancied.

We stayed late but still no rise. Probably the burning sunshine didn’t help much, though it was pretty nice to be out in warm weather for a change. In the end I just opted for the “sit it out” approach. I recommend it highly.

Next two days we were on a nice beat of another highland river. Things got off to a flying start with both of us catching nice fish within half an hour. My my I thought, this could be a cricket score. And here lies another lesson of fly fishing I have learnt. Never count your chickens before they’ve squwawked. Despite another couple of nice fish, I caught nothing for the whole afternoon or evening (or the next day). In truth the river was very quiet, but later on there were a few fish moving, and I even had a few casts to a really nice fish (by which I mean several pounds) but I did my classic cock-up cast and couldn’t raise him. He did at one stage take a damn good look at my fly, but something wasnae right (drag drag…..)

Now this particular river is known for being quite rich in aquatic life. Strewth that’s no joke. Never before have I seen so many cased caddis larae. In the shallow parts the stones on the river bed were literally covered in them. Made me feel guilty of wading to be honest.

Quite surprisingly though there were almost no upwinged flies at all the whole two days.. Possibly the time of year meant there was a transition from the large spring hatches to the BWO hatches of the summer. There were quite a few sedges about, but only right at the tail end of the day. It was then that the better fish started to occasionally show themselves with those brilliant plopping rises. I’m not sure, but I think these fish are taking sedges as they’re about to emerge. I’m currently experimenting with a pattern I hope will do well in these situations.. we shall see.
The broth managed a few nice wee fish on a DHS, which is also a good pattern for any kind of sedge rise.

We awoke next day to find a totally different day. Overcast, drizzly and (once again) dour. Things weren’t helped much by a poor effort at the porridge on my part.

For those who’ve never made porridge, it shouldn’t look like that.

Again there were a good few terrestrials about on this river. Some hawthorn flies were still lingering in the bushes and grass by the river, and seemed to be doing a good job of avoiding the trout.

That’s another pattern I’ve yet to use. I have hope yet though that one day it will catch me a big trout.
This was another day to spend watching the river (they all are really), by which I mean not really fishing as much as I should have. I think this kind of fishing (which a lot of my fishing is) might partly explain why I sometimes get so cock-a-doodle when I actually find a decent fish rising. It’s just so damn exciting! I asked this bunch of twigs what they thought, and they agreed that’s my problem.