ESF contributor Johannes Bulfin and his wife, Rebecca have completed their cycle journey across Europe and have reached their final destination in Finland. He looks back on some of the fishing highlights they had along the way.
Having travelled for 50 days on a bicycle it’s time to review if it was worth dragging two fly rods, three reels and two boxes of flies (don’t forget leader, tippet etc) along with me.
I’ve heard that when some people embark on a long cycling trip they will snap off the handle of their toothbrush in order to shave off a couple of grams of weight from their load.... interesting individuals I’m sure. That really isn’t my style, mine is more like: load everything imaginable onto the bike and if the frame doesn’t crack under the strain, then its fine! Perhaps trying to play the sane individual here isn’t exactly a winner as the vast majority of people would have the common sense to take a plane or at the very least a car. Just not my style either I guess.
So let's save ourselves the suspense; was it worth taking the fly rods? Even if I’d just ended up casting on the lawn of a campsite, just once, it would have been worth it!
The problem with cycling and fly fishing is, well actually the problem with cycling and anything else that requires any amount of physical exersion at all is: that after a day of cycling you are (or I am) so exhausted that scoffing down something remotely edible looking and taking a crap is about all there is energy left for.
So any fly fishing that got done was rare enough to be honest but importantly some did get done. As Pete wrote in last month's issue, we managed to team up and get a grayling. A memorable first for me but more importantly a day out that rekindled a latent passion for fly fishing in my better half. A far more significant outcome for sure.
This was sandwiched by a couple of days after trout around Dartmoor, the trout as stunning as the scenery in which they reside.
As we cycled through France we travelled along beside canals and various rivers, occasionally I would bring the bike skidding to halt with an exclamation of “The size of that yoke!!!” and gape incredoulously at a huge chub or mammoth carp hanging near the surface! After several incidents of me nearly causing a bicyle wreck I was demoted to the rear of our two person convoy where I could freely slam on the breaks to salivate over a new sighting! The clear waters of the Loire were especially tormenting for me. After two weeks I could take no more of it and bought myself a permit for a few days!
Chub was a fish that I had never seen before, Ireland has a rather limited diversity of fish species. In France though there are some real monsters! It was only after I’d caught a few of the smaller ones that I realised just how big the big ones really must be. But the big ones remained where they were. Targetting individual fish was heart stopping, I swear one of those fish kissed my nymph while I held my breath only to exhale with a sigh as the chub turned away. I did manage to land a few in the 1lb to 2lb range which were great fun. Casting nymphs seemed to be the most succesful method, especially if you could plop it in front of a few fish that were cruising around actively looking for food. The competition factor would spur an immediate response!
Over the next few days roach, rudd and perch were all welcomed as if they were trophy trout! Absence makes the heart grow fonder; applies to fly fishing too it seems. Fish that would usually be seen as unremarkable events were transformed into little triumphs over unfamiliar waters.
Unfortunately the fly rods were consigned to be just baggage for the next few weeks as getting fishing in Germany seems to be the equivalent of training for NASA. Thankfully the waters of the Rhine weren’t quite as clear and I could choose to convince myself that there were no fish there anyway and I wasn’t really missing out on anything!
Our journey took us north along the Rhine and into Holland, further north again and back into Germany beside the North Sea. At this stage I’d lost the will to live, consistent rain and dropping temperatures had done their job. If this continued I would soon lose the will to fish!!! Heaven forbid that dark day should ever loom on the horizon again. Therefore it was time to fast track our progress to Finland using trains and a ferry.
By then I was probably foaming a little at the mouth due to withdrawl symptoms. So despite the fact that the lakes could freeze over within a week I still went ahead and bought my licence for the year. My first forays into discovering the fly fishing potential of my new home (Helsinki) have been as bleak as the weather! Frozen rod rings and a wind that takes care of shaving for me are factors that will take a little getting used to. I don’t blame the fish for not moving, after an hour out there I can barely move either!
Although few and far between my fly fishing memories from these travels are ones that I will treasure and look back upon fondly. I also look forward with expectation and anticipation. The long dark frozen winter of Finland will give me plenty of time to research, scheme and plan the coming season. Long forgotten and neglected vices and bobbin holders will be dusted off and extremely rusty tying fingers retrained. Before all this though I WILL catch at least one Finnish pike on the fly, through frozen rod rings or not!
Read more from Johannes at Road to Water