Planning a fishing trip during the early season is always a gamble. There are so many things that can go awry that it is a testament to the incurable optimism of flyfishers to do so. Unfavourable weather, or the river being 5 feet above Summer level, as it had been earlier on, or even snow on the roads - all play a significant part in undermining all of one’s hopes and endeavours.
But once in a while - if you haven’t offended the gods that is, and fate is with you – everything comes together.
Occasions such as these can “sustain” you for a long time, when the Mayfly are hatching, but you are stuck in your office with no mortal chance of getting away.
(Should you - against expectations and with all your Machiavellian cunning - manage to do so, then She Who Must Be Obeyed will have a “Honey Do” list for you. I.e. “Honey can you do this” and “Honey can you do that”….)
For my part I kicked off the season during the very end of February with a few days of Salmon fishing on the river Eden in Cumbria.
In stark contrast to my previous trips – and much to my own surprise as well - I arrived in one piece and unscathed to Carlisle... on schedule!!
(My trip last year had been an “Inspector Closeau”-like experience of trying to get my car fixed with a cracked oil sump in the middle of nowhere enroute to the Don in Aberdeen).
But as it turned out, this was one of those rare outings where things seemed to come together.
The weather had turned significantly milder compared to the previous weeks and both the air and water had warmed up. I was to be on the Warwick Hall estate which has a lovely stretch of river some miles East of Carlisle.
Surprisingly, the river was almost a perfect height where I was going to be fishing with only 6 inches above summer level on the gauge the first day. So definitely no need for super fast sinking tips and/or 2-3 inch brass tubies which are standard issue for early season excursions. .
In fact an intermediate sink-tip was sufficient to bite through the surface current and get the fly down, and half inch tube flies were totally adequate.
The only thing that left something to be desired was of course my spey casting, which had been left to tend to itself since my last outing on the last day of the season last year.
I was using a different 16 ft rod that I had acquired during the winter, and just that extra foot took a little bit of getting used to compared to my old 15 footer.
But after a while my casting started flowing nicely as muscle memory started to engage.
It was such a thrilling sensation to be by the river again and the warm(er) temperature made it feel like an early spring day. Of course with the obligatory hail storm every now and then!
By lunch time I actually noted quite a few Large Dark Olive staring to come off the water - not in such great numbers as to say that it was a hatch but sufficient to catch my attention. It suddenly struck me as what a paradox this was! Here I was with a 16 ft Salmon outfit and there were dayflies coming off the river.
I saw a number of Salmon jumping and even though the say that Kelts never jump, these dark coppery coloured fish were jumping regularly - so clearly these fish hadn’t heard what they were supposed to not do!
My casting was improving and shooting a bit of line was becoming slightly easier now.
Having laid out what I felt was a nice cast, I felt a few distinct plucks as the fly swung around and came close to the bank. Another cast over the same spot and the fly never made it close to the bank. It was stopped by a Salmon , which took and raced upstream at once. When the fish started to show in the surface I was surprised to see that it was quite silvery with almost pinkish flanks! This looked much more like a fresh run Springer than a spawned out Kelt. Not a big fish but a wonderful start to the day and season.
Since all Salmon have to be released before June, I tend to fish barbless and often I only need to give the fish slack line for it to free itself thereby sparing them the stress of being handled at all.
The gamekeeper turned up later in the afternoon and I naturally mentioned the fish and its fine condition - he told me that the Kelt in Eden tend to mend well and very quickly, so often these are mistaken for Springers. The only certain sign of it being a freshly run fish is the presence of sea lice.
By now it had started clouding over suddenly gotten much colder. I decided to call it a day and head back for the cottage where I was staying.
Since I had managed to get my fly tying stuff out of storage after a 10 year hiatus – and being motivated by willing and taking Salmon – I decided to have a go on a Salmon fly.
By the end of the evening I managed to produce this at the vice ( I won’t mention how many I had to scrap because they looked God awful!).
The pattern is called “Pas River” named after a Spanish Salmon river – please excuse the terrible picture quality but I’m trying to negotiate a new camera with SWMBO
There is no doubt that hair-wing patterns catch more fish – but I’m just a sucker for the classic Salmon flies, and I do throw in a few strands of bucktail just to give them more movement.
After all, if you don’t feel confident with the fly you have at the end of the leader, you’ll never be fishing with intent and concentration. At least that’s my experience.
Next day started with another lovely morning and sunshine. I was to be on the top half of the the beat. In fact the beat starts just below the bridge level with the stone in the middle of the river , known as “Otter Stone” and was told that the current seam behind the rock of fast/slow water was a good Salmon lie.
So out went a size 1/0 Silver Doctor, and it remained there firmly embedded in some obstruction on the river bed.
A new leader, fly and cast , and I started covering the pool in classic “Salmon Fishers Dance” fashion. It is actually surprising how long it tool to fish it down to the bend opposite the house. The water was a full degree warmer than yesterday and so was the air. So chances should be better today than even yesterday. But after 1 1/2 hrs fishing there had been nothing! The obligatory pipe and coffee came out and subsequent head-scratching. Again the gamekeeper appeared – seemingly out of nowhere - and we had a chat.
He suggested to fish the next pool – known as “Gravel Bed” – thoroughly and with a black and yellow tubie of some sorts– but staying on the bank as there was a good chance of disappearing into the river if you waded out even a few yards.
The memory of being stuck in the river in quicksandy-mud with the water reaching me to my neck on the Wye last year was still very vivid for me, so I heeded his advice like the gospel.
And it turned out to be good advice because 5 mins later I was into a Salmon. It had taken literally only a few yards from the bank just as the fly was coming around on to the dangle.
There was a God almighty thump and the rod just arced down as the fish went for the depth of the pool. This one behaved very differently than the one yesterday.
The movements were much more deliberate and it stayed well down . But after about 15 mins of tugging against a 16 foot rod, it was tired and started rolling in the surface – clearly a larger fish than its sister yesterday.
A few rolls in the surface near the bank and it was free. This called for more pipe, coffee and a celebratory chocolate!
Unnoticed by me, the water had risen a whole foot just during the time from when I had started fishing to now. The air temperature had also dropped noticeably.
I fished the rest of the beat but without much conviction –partly because I felt I had gotten my favourable dues, partly because I was getting really cold now and because rising water with dropping temperature is usually not a favourable combination.
But I had enjoyed a wonderful couple of days and was already looking forward to the next outing – whenever that may prove to be.
What a strange affliction this is!
Alexander