We all dream of a far flung fishing trip. Our good friend Lee Watts looks at how you can make the best of a situation when all isn't going to plan.
We all spend plenty of downtime flicking through the magazines or cursing the web looking on in awe at the miles of perfect white flats. We imagine what it would feel like to wet wade some remote South Island stream in the middle of a cicada fall. Increasingly it seems we are being drawn to Iceland and it's huge browns and riffled salmon.
This daydreaming all leads us to eventually book our own fishing trip to our bucket list destination. Now, what I'm going to write about here is the flip side of the bearded guide holding up a huge kyped chromer, and more about the difficulties of fixing a puncture at some remote peninsula on the way to those perfect flats. It's the realisation that those perfect photo opportunities only happen during those perfect days which are in the minority during the average £4k fishing holiday.
I'm going to give you examples of holidays which didn't go strictly to plan. All involve the weather not playing ball, and as we know 'acts of god' are all part of the deal for the traveling fly fisherman (you do know that, right)?
I'd like to say that every specialist travel company and local guide I have used have always recognised the difficulty and frustration in adverse conditions and done their best for the traveling party to get them on the fish…its not their fault!
Swedish Lapland.
The perception: crystal clear rivers with the most pure of water, stuffed full of huge crimson fined grayling munching on blizzards of big black sedge.
The reality: a hard fished area on the Finnish border. The Fins like to take a fish or two for the table, by any means. When you couple this with the need for the local lodges to take as many bookings as possible in the relatively short season, then you can see where the fishing pressure comes from.
Then there's the fabled hatch.....what hatch! Completely non-existent. Not even any mozzies present to bite you - sorry - give the fish something to rise to.
The solution: fishing the secret log jammed lakes during the midnight sun. Witnessing 60cm lake-locked grayling chase hatching sedge as they try and make the journey from the deeper water to the reedy margins.
New Zealand.
The perception: the furthest destination you can get from GB. Trout bum heaven with low density, high quality fish hitting drys that are cast to sighted fish.
The reality: a cyclone bouncing of the east coast of Australia plays havoc with the NZ climate. Temperature fluctuations from 12 deg C to 28 deg C in 24hrs put the fish off the feed like I've never witnessed before. After catching fish on the first weekend, it then takes a further week to hook anymore. I say hook, because even after buying fresh premium tippet for the trip, it still lets you down and you have to scrounge some green maxima from a friend just to stay hooked.
Sight fishing is impossible to perform when rivers are in spate, you expect it to be windy on the South Island, part of the deal is that your going to come face to face with a 'nor'wester', but the Mataura in flood, that's not in the itinerary.
The solution: drive north to the Mckenzie plains, more settled weather and cleaner rivers make fishing possible. Go with the advice of the guide and fish San Juan worms until the cicada and blue bottles play game in the high Southern Hemisphere summer.
As far as I'm concerned it's one of the reasons for a three week trip when you start to invest that kind of money in a trip. You may be blessed with perfect conditions the whole time, or you may end up with only a week or so of good fishing. Just keep in the back of your mind that the stars only have to aline momentarily for that sponsor pleasing grip and grin.
Iceland.
The perception: midge gorged monster trout looking up continually for any morsel in the frigid water. Salmon stacked up under tumbling waterfalls ready to chase any sunray skating across the surface.
The reality: very expensive trout water, again very heavily fished in the short season. The big fish are there, you can clearly see the bow waves when they spook from pools after landing a zonker on their head. 50mph winds put pay to any midge hatch, and with it dry fly. What you are left with is fishing streamers for fish that just aren't interested, even during the short nights. They have seen every conceivable wooly bugger and black ghost pass their nose by the scandi anglers earlier in the season when the snow is yet to melt and the fish are ravenous.
Drought and wind make salmon fishing difficult. The drought makes the fish doggo. They are there in numbers, but not playing ball. The wind is so strong that I mend my rod into a weir wall, not realising that the tip had snapped until I reel in at the end of the pool.
The solution: for the trout we had to leave the river behind and travel to the volcanic highland lakes where the effect of the weather was diminished and the fishing cheaper. We caught fish in a landscape that didn't really look like it could produce anything other than lava.
As for the salmon, eventually the rain comes and lifts the river. In five days of maybe two takes, the final day results in five fish on the bank and five fish lost. Good salmon fishing in anyone's book.
Cuba
Perception: warm saltwater paradise, cheap as chips, basic facilities. Go in May to avoid unsettled weather and hurricanes.
The reality: a large low over the Gulf of Mexico produces cloud, wind and rain. If you combine cloud and wind (waves) then sight fishing for bones unless they are tailing is pretty difficult, especially when the wind grounds the skiffs to the marina and all fishing has to take place by way of wading. One day of fishing is lost completely due to adverse conditions. The height of the guide on the skiff and the mobility all make the fishing more productive from a skiff. If you realise that the same area of wadable mangrove flat that you are fishing has seen the same guide bring clients to it day after day for the last month, then you start to realise the difficulty and the reason that fish aren't tailing and just seem to be moving through. Even the barracuda seem wise.
The solution: persevere! The guides seem to have poor understanding of how to pole a skiff into positon for the angler to get the cast off. Unrealistic calls of "12 o'clock, 70ft" into a strong wind coming onto your casting shoulder make the skiff an unpleasant experience. When wading, although we didn't see as many fish, we did encounter feeders that would take the fly, the guides were largely redundant which gives a more rewarding and laid back approach to the fishing. The mangroves can break up the effect of the waves which allows you to see the fish, even under cloud. Who needs a skiff!
Conclusion.
I think we all need to realise that we fish for wild fish in wild circumstance with sometimes excellent, sometimes poor guides. There are lots of variables and just because we can afford to travel to these far flung destinations at the peak times, it still doesn't guarantee a holiday's worth of perfect fishing, in my experience you'relucky to get a few days here and there on most trips.
I accept that. The alternative would be to turn up at facilities like the stocked Thai fishing ponds to catch arapaima under controlled conditions on the wrong continent. No thanks, I'd rather the embarrassment of throwing a 6wt TCR like a javelin into a gusting Icelandic wind on the home pool in full view of the lodge and other guests, just on the off chance of the perfect experience.