The alarm goes off, it’s 5.50am, I sit bolt upright and after a few seconds of gathering my thoughts I head off to get ready before hitting the road. After all this time I have my routine planned to ensure I am in the truck with a thermos cup of tea in just over 15 minutes.
This month I am fishing the Wylye in Wiltshire for grayling with Richard Morris. I am lucky enough to be well acquainted with the Wylye, having fished it for a number of years now. It is a river that those who know, love but it remains quietly in the background, behind the other big name chalkstreams but for me it is up there with the very best.
Richard and I had arranged to meet at a pub by the river for breakfast, coffee and to plan the day. We decided to fish the stretch just opposite the pub and I packed my gear into the back of Richard’s truck.
This doesn’t sound a big deal but my gear is permanently stored in the back of truck as my memory is now so bad that I live in fear of forgetting something. Spookily enough after the short drive to the bottom of the beat I start to get my gear together and realise that I have forgotten the extra pair of socks I wear under my waders. I make a quick jog back to my truck trying my best to look vaguely athletic but arrive back trying to disguise my heavy breathing.
I decided to get a few pictures before I have a go and Richard rigs his rod up ready to fish nymphs. I take a look at how he does this and notice he has the remnants of an old tapered leader to which he has attached a braid indicator and then some tippet. He feels this gives him an added advantage of sensitivity compared to fishing a duo of buoyant dry fly and nymph. It is a great compromise for those not wanting to, or liking, fishing long French leader methods.
I also notice the back of Richard’s truck and how tidy everything is. It looks as though everything has an assigned place and I make a note to try and do likewise but know it is going to be an uphill battle, especially after Richard remarks on the mould growing on the outside of my rod bag. I call it patina but I make a mental note to try and do better.
I stand on a bridge, camera in hand and watch Richard make his first few casts, starting short and then extending his line as he casts a little further. Even from the bridge I see his mucilin treated indicator dip away and the first fish of the day, a small grayling, is on.
Richard loves grayling, seriously loves them, and after admiring it for a few moments gently slips it back. I join him in the river, still without a rod but as we slowly work upstream I listen as he tells me about where we are fishing and how he had a nice trout from here and a nice few grayling there. His enthusiasm is infectious and I am now itching to get a rod in my hands.
I’m fishing a 9 1/2 ft 4wt rod that I have rigged up with a French Leader and just a single fly: a pheasant tailed nymph with a 3mm tungsten bead. I’ll put an extra nymph on if I need it but we are fishing pretty shallow water and think it will be enough.
I find a small pot and cover it a couple of times. Richard tells me it is a good one and it turns out it is. I go on to release six grayling that come to a combination of dead drift and induced takes too.
The water is crystal clear and the fish are really starting to play ball. We walk upstream and take turns fishing the water. Richard has snipped his nymph off as he has seen a fish rise and wants to catch it on a dry. He does. A small Griffith’s Gnat has worked its magic for him.
I notice someone watching on the far bank and give him a nod. There is little doubt he is a fisherman and when I hook into a grayling he gives a shout of approval that proves he is. That one was for him.
The morning passes with us only fishing about 300 yards with plenty of fish when Adrian, the river keeper, appears from behind a clump of bushes. How is it river keeper’s have this skill? I am sure they must do their training with the SAS or something.
It is almost lunchtime but we’re still filled from breakfast and we decide on a cup of tea instead. There’s enough for Adrian too so he joins us. The work he has done in his 15 years tending this stretch of the Wylye is amazing and he is a credit to the club and his profession.
We decide on fishing somewhere else during the afternoon and Richard takes me downstream just a short way where we stand on a bridge and see a bunch of grayling sitting tight to the bottom. I am offered them and cover them with the pheasant tailed nymph. I catch one after inducing it but then the grayling part and then resume their position as the fly passes them in only the way grayling do.
This though, is the essence of chalkstream fishing; casting to sighted fish. I keep changing flies and varying the angle, speed and drift and pick up a few more. Richard is next to me but sees a fish rise upstream so he wades across the river and walks quietly upstream where I watch him catch the fish and miss the rise of another.
I continue to work the pod a little and there is the one larger male grayling I want to catch, then I promise myself I’ll move on. It took some time but I got him in the end. I left the others alone that chased the fly, pulling my fly clear before they could take it. As is often the case with grayling pink can work well and that’s exactly what the fish took. A bug with two 2.5mm bright pink beads on it. It was exciting, visual stuff as I was watching the reaction of the fish rather than my indicator.
I got out as I realised I couldn’t get across the river, especially as I noticed the bottom of my camera case was a little damp from where I made that extra little step too far to catch my grayling. I checked the camera with a sickening feeling but on discovering it was dry, I walked upstream and found Richard.
I watched him fish for a bit without saying anything as he carefully prospected the water with great skill. He rose a couple of fish that didn’t stick. I let him know I was there and he told me about a “hot spot” just 30 feet upstream from where he was standing in the river.
I joined him and have to admit that I could have gone on fishing nymphs but I wanted to try and catch a grayling on a dry too, so took the spare reel from my waistcoat pocket, strung it up and tied on a CDC emerger.
I stuffed the first fish that made one of those over the fly rises. I missed the next too but decided to strike more slowly if I got lucky with the third. I was a little luckier this time and the fish stuck.It was funny though as we noticed that the fish were not always fully committing to the fly and I reckon we rose more that we hit. Despite changing our dry flies from those that sat in the film of the water to those on top. I did curse when I hooked a large grayling that only stayed attached briefly. It was a good, solid confident take. We saw the fish move from its position to take it.
Richard loves his fishing immensely. He is a fine angler. He works away and then fishes hard when he comes back and has, in the back of his truck, enough room to sleep. This is something he does a lot, especially during the spinner falls of summer.
We were going to head back for a cup of tea but saw a grayling rise and then another. I had already snipped off my caddis pattern but he still had his on and proceeded to hook them. He even let me have a go too. It’s lovely when you time things like that and the fish oblige. It was a perfect way to end the day.
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