Our good friend Nick Thomas shares a great organza based midge pattern
Smidge: (Noun, Informal); a very small amount or part; an indefinite quantity that is below average size or magnitude; a tiny scarcely detectable amount.
At pretty much any time of year, the least bit of warmth in the air, a beam of sunlight and there they are. Spiralling round, dancing in the air, absorbing the smallest trace of infra-red from 93 million miles away. If there's a bit of a breeze and you're standing in the river you'll soon know they're there. They have the uncanny knack of seeking you out and using you as a crafty windbreak to socialise and do whatever midges need to do. They're the little critters than crawl about on the inside of your sunglasses, get under your hat and buzz in your ears.
Chironomids are what they are; the family of non-biting midges. Not to be confused, not that you ever could, with the Scottish midge, or midgie as they are more properly known in their homeland. Where on a calm day the sight of clouds of these dreaded demons rising from the heather strikes dread in the heart of the most resolute angler. They, or more precisely, the females of the species, most definitely bite. The more benign non-biting varieties of midges are ubiquitous to any body of water from huge lakes to tiny puddles. There are thousands of species; in fact, scientists don't know exactly how many, because the little buggers all look so similar.
The Smidge is simple to tie, very effective and can be deployed on both rivers and lakes. It's a minimalist fly, but every part has its place. The wraps of organza ribbon hint at a segmented body with the short halo of crimped fibres softening the silhouette and enhancing the imitation. The glass bead suggests the glint of insect eyes, the tinsel back the trapped air bubbles in a splitting wing case and the subtle glint of organza fibre mixed with just a smidgen of flash, the unfolding wings of an emerging midge.
The result is a modest unassuming sort of fly. No gaudy colours or vulgar flash here to scare the horses or alarm the ladies. It will sit quietly in your fly box without shouting "Heh you, use me, USE ME!". In fact, it's so subdued that your fingers may pass it by when you are looking for something to tie on when the fishing is hard, but ignore it at your peril. Tie it on and this little smidgen of materials imitating life will sink beneath water and do its job very effectively.
Hook Curved grub or Czech nymph size 12-18
Thread UTC 70 black
Head Black embroidery bead
Abdomen Black organza ribbon
Wing Micro flash and white organza fibres
Thorax Black organza ribbon
Thorax cover Opal mirage tinsel, medium
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Place the bead on the hook, run on the thread and take around the bend in touching turns.
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Cut a 10cm length of organza ribbon. Cut off one side 1mm in from the woven edge and the other side 2mm from the edge. Strip out all the long fibres and trim off the short fibres from 1cm at one end of each piece to form a tying tag.
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Tie in the 1mm strip, bind down the tag and take the thread two thirds of the way back to the bead in touching turns. Wind the organza in touching turns up to the thread, tie in and trim off the waste. Take the thread up to the bead in touching turns to level out the thorax area.
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Cut a 5cm length of white organza ribbon, remove one edge and strip out some of the long fibres. Fold these in half around the tying thread together with a single strand of micro flash and tie in behind the bead. Bind down back to the rear of the thorax spreading the fibres with your thumbnail. Pull the wing taught and cut to length.
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Tie in a length of tinsel followed by the 2mm strip of black organza. Wind the organza forward in touching turns, tie in behind the bead and trim off the excess.
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Pull the tinsel over the thorax, tie in at the bead and trim off the waste.
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Smear the thread by the hook with varnish or superglue, whip finish and cut the thread.
The Smidge is a good fly to have in different sizes; the naturals vary in size from virtually invisible to 12mm or so. I mostly use size 14 and size 16 hooks and tie them long or short depending on the size of the imitation I want. The smaller Smidges are used under a dry fly from spring to autumn and the larger ones on a dropper above a heavy nymph for grayling in the winter. Some midges have an olive colouration, which you can imitate by using white organza instead of black and then colouring with a marker pen. I mostly stick with black; in such small flies, I don’t think it makes much difference anyway.
The smidge took what was probably my largest grayling of the 2016-2017 season. I was fishing the ski-slope pool on the Taff when the river was dropping after a week of flood. This pool sits at the end of a long run of gravel and fast current, and in flood conditions the grayling drop back into the pool to escape the heavy flow. I call it the ski-slope as the gently sloping gravel in the margins changes abruptly to a steep slippery slope into the depths of the pool. In coloured water, when the pool fishes at its best, it’s easy to take a step too far and start a scary slide. Having had a lucky escape once I’ve learned to fish this pool cautiously by only shuffling my feet a few inches at a time. The steep drop plunges down to a narrow channel that snakes down the centre of the pool and it’s here, in water around six feet deep, that the big grayling hold station.
Getting down to the fish in this pool requires some heavy flies. A 4.7mm tungsten beaded Radyr nymph on the point and an Elastic Shrimp on a dropper a foot above were my choice that morning. Having gingerly shuffled to the edge of the drop-off I lobbed the flies upstream. On the first run through the pool the shrimp was snaffled by a small grayling which was swiftly brought to hand and slipped back. I slowly waded upstream searching the water and hooked into a larger fish which gave a good account of itself in the strong current until I steered it into slacker water and the net.
Things went quiet then, so I slipped out of the water to sit on a fallen willow tree trunk for a quick snack and a cup of coffee from the flask while I warmed up. The thick grey cloud that had been blotting out the sky all morning was starting to break up allowing a few beams of sunlight to shine through and warm the air. There was a definite hint of spring in the air as I sat and watched a pair of kingfishers flashing back and forth across the river. Enjoying the intermittent warmth of the sun I became aware that I was becoming slowly surrounded by a small crowd of midges sheltering from the downstream breeze.
I flicked away the last dregs of coffee, capped the flask and dug out my fly box. I snipped off the Elastic Shrimp and tied on a Smidge tied on a heavy wire Czech nymph hook. Safely regaining the edge of the deep channel, I slipped the point fly out of the keeper ring and flicked the long leader out across the current. After a few casts the yellow sliding float stop I use as a depth indicator on the end of my furled leader jabbed under the surface and I raised the 3wt into a solid thumping take. The fish bored deep, twisting and turning in the current and then kiting away from me. I tipped the rod over to apply as much side-strain as I dared, but winding the reel only served to increase the bend in the rod without gaining any line. My first impression from the pull on the line was that I’d hooked a big chub or even a barbel, but the colour in the water prevented me from getting any glimpse of the fish.
Keeping the rod low I shuffled backwards towards the bank and gradually worked the fish towards me, gaining some line as I coaxed it towards shallower water. At that point, the fish turned back towards the deeper water and I saw a brief flash of colour as a big dorsal fin flared erect against the current. The back and forth struggle continued for some time as I had to give half of my attention to staying on my feet and the other half to staying attached to the fish. Eventually we were both in the weaker current over the level gravel nearer the edge of the pool and I managed to slip the net under a beautifully conditioned grayling.
I was fishing on my own, so a few quick pictures standing in the water with my rod clipped to my sling pack and the net clamped between my knees had to suffice. I was lucky that the sun chose that moment to come out fully from behind the clouds and provide some decent backlighting to show off the glorious colours of the dorsal fin to their best advantage. I tucked the camera back into its pocket in my waders to give me both hands to lift the big fish out of the net and hold it in the current to recover. The fish kicked a couple of times and as I opened my hands it gave me a final powerful thump of its tail and disappeared back into the dark depths of the pool.
Nick Thomas lives in South Wales. He started fly fishing on Scottish hill lochs many years ago and continues to design, tie and fish flies for trout, grayling, carp, bass and anything else that’s going.