John Stephens takes us back to Croatia for part 3 of the River Kupa Chronicles.
River Kupa Grayling
This morning we go down to breakfast and the three self-catering Spaniards, who arrived two days ago, are sitting around in the lodge dining room drinking coffee.
They are refined types from Madrid, with split cane rods and gear that looks like it could be Armani. I won’t give away the labels, but you know what I mean. They are what Dave calls Tackle Tarts.
Anyway, I don’t quite know what is about them, but Dave and I had their number the minute we set eyes on them. They are ‘liberty takers’; the sort who smile as they walk past you on the bank, then immediately start to cast your water, twenty five yards ahead of you, without even a: Mind if I fish on? You know the type.
The one who speaks English and makes his own split cane rods is at the tying bench, the others looking on. He’s busy tying up a dozen of Zac’s deadly CDC Foam Caddis patterns.
Zac's fly tying bench is free to all guests
After breakfast we learn that earlier they asked Zac if they could buy some of his flies. He very obliging unpacked one of his big display cases and showed them some of the patterns that would work along the river at this time. They selected a range of flies and Zac obligingly put them all in a box.
But after tying a range of flies for themselves, using Zac's tying bench, hooks, thread, foam and CDC, they promptly departed for the river, leaving the fly box and the selection that Zac had made for them untouched on the table.
“Don’t forget your flies,” Dave calls.
“Oh, I don’t think we’ll need them now,” Split Cane replies, as they go out the door.
Dave and I exchange looks. But Zac, being the generous, forgiving type that he is, just shrugs his shoulders.
“If it was me,” says Dave, “I would have charged them for the flies they tied. Stick it one their bill.” Dave is a shrewd businessman and, forgive the pun, there are no flies on him.
But Zac won’t hear anything of it.
“It’s the way things are. The fly bench is for guests to use. I don’t charge for anything there. They help themselves.”
“You can say that again,” says Dave, with a wry smile.
Zac only laughs and shakes his head.
“They don’t want my food, they don’t want my guiding, they don’t want my flies. Is okay. Maybe they don’t catch grayling. I tell them places, but maybe they think they know better.”
He shrugs his shoulders and laughs.
Today we’re off to Brod na Kupi to fish the Kupica and its tributary, the little Curak. There is a special permit for this, which also includes the River Kupa. The three-river permits can be purchased from two of the town’s three café bars or from one of the local hotels. This hotel is a no-no, since the surly looking proprietor, we have nick named Basil (late of Fawlty Towers) is not someone you really want to encourage, but we’ll keep that for another time.
We decide to visit the first of the café bars. It’s an odd little place, located on the left, as you enter the town, travelling in from Turke. It never seems have more than two customers, sitting with the owner at the two tables that occupy the terrace off the street. The threesome eyes us as we pass into the bar. We nod and they nod back. The proprietor follows us inside the tiny bar.
“Fishing Licence..?” we ask.
The man stares warily back at us, a kind of grey and weary look passes across his face, as if to say: Jesus, fishing licence!
“Licence?”
“Yes, Licence for fishing the river.”
“The Kupa?”
“Three rivers…? I offer.”
We stare at one another across a cultural and linguistic void, blowed if we can remember the names of the rivers. Zac only told us twenty minutes ago; he is always chiding at us for our ignorance about his country and the region we are in. But these names are like the grayling that slip the hook and are gone way down river the moment they are told us. Lost.
“Kupica, “ he offers, “Kupica… Curak?”
“That’s it. Yes, the Kupica and the Curak.”
We nod, we smile, we look grateful, humble, foolish, English fishermen but this doesn’t do anything to lighten the general gloom that seems to emanate from him as he shuffles through a pile of papers beneath the bar. It seems that fishing licences aren’t really the making of his day.
“Three…? He asks, holding up three fingers. “Kupa, Kupica, Curak.”
“Three”, we confirm.
“Passports…?"
We slide our passports across the bar and he fills in the details. It costs us 35 Euro, for a day on the three rivers; for the Kupa it's just 22 Euro. It must be tedious doing this every day. Why don’t they have multiple day tickets, less paperwork, less hassle? But that’s not the way they do things around here. They have a system and we must adhere to it.
We hand over the dosh and head out the door, throwing further nods and smiles at the two locals. They stare blankly back at us. Fishing licences!
Kupica river shot
The Kupica is a tributary of the Kupa. It is just three kilometers long, and is one of the first rivers in Croatia where "catch and release" has been fully implemented. The river runs alongside the 203. Down an incline from the road its wooded banks cast dappled shadows over the gin-clear water, giving cover for the trout and grayling that are here in abundance. These fish are known for their strength and quality, which makes catching them a particular delight.
Regulations on the Kupica restrict you to one rod and one fly only. Any method with an artificial fly may be employed, but barbless hooks are mandatory. If you plan fishing it, get there early.
By the time we arrive there are already several rods on the river, and all the likely looking spots are taken. Not to be outdone we wander the banks among the trees and find a spot under another old cable bridge. This one has definitely seen better days; and really does look like it’s straight out of Crocodile Dundee.
The Kupica is a relatively shallow freestone river, running over limestone boulders, with channels in the centre and at the sides. Fish are to be found almost everywhere, but fishing the channels beneath the trees seems to be the favoured option, and one being adopted by the anglers above us.
We wade out across the river and cast into the banks on either side; this way we can cover more options: casting upstream and to each side and allowing the nymphs to drift down below us. Takes tend to come at the end of the drift, as the nymphs lift in the water column. If there’s a grayling there, more often than not this will induce it to take.
I love this sort of fishing; wading the river and casting into likely looking runs, working the nymphs upstream, searching for features, drifting through the riffles and channels; fishing above and below boulders, where fish lie in the eye of calm water, taking the bugs that glide by.
At first it’s hard to spot the fish in the dappled light that filters down from the trees above us. But when you do register its ghostlike grey form holding in the current, it’s then that you can pick out more of them and you realize they are everywhere. At times you won’t spot them until you take a step forward towards the next hole; then you see them, grey shadows shooting out from under your feet – you were standing on top of them all the time!
So, one of the things you learn here is to look very carefully at the water, look for those grey shadows and don’t move on until you have put your flies by them four or five times. In my view success in fly fishing is all about perseverance. On so many occasions I have cast to a fish only to have my offering repeatedly refused until finally, bingo, the fish takes. And then victory is doubly rewarding.
But, having given the run a good go, if there are no takes, don’t hang about, wade on and try elsewhere.
As we move up toward the cable bridge I spot a nice run just off the far bank. There’s a big willow overhanging the water, and grayling just love to gather beneath overhanging branches.
An old cable bridge
I flick my little weighted shrimp just below the bridge, where a nice channel opens up. I can see three fish moving to take nymphs. This shrimp pattern has all the characteristics of the natural and seems to work well here. Two key factors are size and weigh. Sometimes you want a weighted pattern to fish a little deeper in fast water. In shallower, slower water you might be better served with an unweighted version as this swims more naturally. Presentation is all on the Kupica.
A weighted shrimp (an Oliver Edwards pattern)
With the easy wading here, we can adopt a short line approach. Getting close to the fish is no problem. I can watch the little shrimp drift down through the channel. On the first two drifts it gets ignored. On the third drift I raise the rod to “play with the fish”, as Zac would say. Raising the rod lifts the shrimp, just as it approaches the first fish. The movement has her attention and she swings up and to the left to take my offering. It’s a perfect take, relaxed and confident. I lift and… Yes, I have her!
The fish shoots away up and out of the channel into the fast water. The rod arcs and bucks as the fish dashes through the riffles. It’s fast, shallow water and so I am in control and after a brief, yet feisty tussle a nice little grayling comes to my hand.
A nice little grayling comes to my hand
First fish of the morning and I get the thumbs up from Dave, who's casting into a boulder-strewn section of water on the far side of the river. Fishing in and around the slack water in these boulder fields can be a very productive strategy. As the food is moving quickly toward the fish they have a very short window in which to inspect it, so takes can be fast and furious in these kind of runs.
And sure enough, on his next cast Dave strikes gold and has a fish leaping through the dappled sunlight on the far bank. It's another nice grayling, bigger than mine and my goodness does it go; line zipping through the water, sending up a cascade of rainbow spray across the morning.
Dave struggles for a moment as the first turns and runs back toward him. This can be a problem, as grayling will use that big dorsal fin to move downstream on the current at lightning speed. The manoeuvre can leave you struggling to strip back slack line. I have had fish shoot right between my legs and end up downstream of me, where they’ve then made use of the current leaving me to fight them and the river.
Finally Dave brings his fish to the net and we pause to admire a fin perfect Kupica lady. She’s got our hearts all of a flutter as she rests for a moment above the gravel in the crystal clear water. Then with a flick of her tail she shoots off upstream among the mossy boulders of the lovely Kupica.
A fin-perfect Kupica grayling in the net
It’s at times like these that you want to stand back for a moment and take in the surroundings. You are in that very special place in space and time, and you just have to pause to savour it. Here on the tree-lined Kupica there is only the sound of the water gurgling among the boulders at my feet. The sun that comes seeping through the leaves of the trees above us renders everything in a delicate green light. There is peace here, the kind that only comes in wild places like this.
For this is the Gorski Kotar, north-west Croatia. And here we are fishing its rivers, enjoying its tranquility, its beauty, and just having the time of our lives, humbled by all that surrounds us. We fish on under the spell of dappled sunlight for another hour, and catch more of the Kupica’s lovely fish; one, a pretty little red spotted brownie comes as a surprise amongst all the ladies of the stream.
A lovely little red spotted Kupica brownie
With the sun now at its zenith, and a few nice fish to our credit, what more could we want but a place in the shade and a nice cool glass of Ožujsko Pivo? So it’s off to Brod na Kupi for lunch. We will keep the little river Curak for later…
Time for lunch and a cool glass of Ožujsko Pivo
In the next instalment we visit the Hotel Mance for lunch and come across the Croatian version of Basil Fawlty.