Simon Hadlington was not expecting much when he set off for a late-season session on his local beck in North Yorkshire. But things don’t always pan out the way you expect
One of the great thrills of angling – any sort of angling – is that you never know what the day will bring. A long-planned and highly anticipated expedition to a water that you know is stuffed full of good fish can, and often does, prove a disappointment. Yet an impromptu couple of hours snatched at short notice and without much expectation can sometimes result in cracking sport. Unpredictability is the name of our game.
So it was that one day late last year that I found myself with a few spare hours to kill. “Right, I’m going fishing”, I said. I packed my kit and set off on the 45 minute run up to Pickering, just this side of the North York Moors, to have a quick session on Pickering Beck.
After a few dull, wet days the weather had at last broken. The sun was shining and the thermometer in the car read 15 degrees. But, after all the recent rain I wasn’t certain what the water would look like, or even if it would be fishable.
When I arrived it didn’t look good. It had risen by several inches and was running the colour of hot chocolate. But nevertheless I’d made the effort so I resolved to give it a go.
While I tackle up I noticed there was a reasonable amount of insect life coming off the water and so I tied on a smallish, simple foam-headed emerger (claret body with flashabou rib), in the hope that I might entice a fish or two to come up – although I could see none rising. I’m not the world’s greatest fly-tyer and this one wouldn’t win any prizes for tying precision. But what the heck, I don’t think fish are hugely fussy.
I slipped into the water at the start of a long, straight section of the beat.
It certainly didn’t feel promising as the water was tumbling through at a rate and while the odd small fly was coming off the surface, still nothing was rising. I covered the first 60 yards or so without a touch and was wondering if this was going to be one of those days.
I focused my attention on the slacker water as close to the bank as I could manage, trying to avoid the bankside greenery. Suddenly out of the blue (well, murky brown) there was a splash at my fly and a fish was on. Brought in a nice 10” brown. Success!
After releasing the fish I put in another cast to almost the identical spot and immediately hooked a smaller brown. I worked my way up through the turbid water for another fifteen minutes without a touch, so switched to a nymph, a size 16 goldhead hare’s ear. I put the new fly into a shallow, fast-moving riffle and felt a sharp tug. It was a little grayling.
I picked up another grayling of similar size just a few yards further up. Two trout two baby grayling: despite the inauspicious conditions, things were looking up.
The next stretch of the beat is a deep, slow run where wading is not possible. It holds decent fish and I was looking forward to giving it a crack.
The fish here can rise freely, so I swapped the goldhead for the emerger again. There was a gentle tail wind putting a decent riffle on top of the water – perfect. But just as I was about to climb the style into the field my heart sunk. Evidently I had company.
That was a nuisance. I wasn’t keen to swish a rod around in the vicinity of two bullocks and their mum. So I gingerly eased myself over the style and as nonchalantly as possible skirted my way along the bank until the beasts were out of sight. I spotted one or two subtle rises under some bushes.
I managed to get the fly in (with half an eye over my shoulder in case the cattle wanted to introduce themselves). As soon as the fly hit the water there was a tremendous boil and my line went taut. I knew it was a good fish that fought hard and tried its best to lose my fly but thankfully a few moments later I pulled in a cracking brown of around 16”
My fly had not come out of the tussle too well though and I was forced to make a change.
No matter. A terrific fish and anything else today would be a bonus. The next bit of water is wadeable but potentially hazardous. There are large blocks of masonry on the bed and the water is chest-deep. But nevertheless I slipped in and waded cautiously around the bend.
It’s tight fishing here, but my heart started to quicken somewhat when I saw several rises four or five metres ahead of me. I got a decent cast in and as the emerger hit the water there was a simultaneous explosion and my rod doubled over. I quickly played the fish and brought him in: another cracker.
In spite of the disturbance I had caused ,the rises persisted and the fish weren’t being picky. Within ten minutes I’d picked up another half dozen mid-sized browns.
Another big swirl at the fly had me reaching for the landing net and just a few casts later I hooked his twin brother
I picked up a few smaller ones before deciding to call it day. In just under three hours’ fishing I’d taken 16 browns, several of them really good fish. A belting morning’s sport. A day that had looked decidedly mediocre to start with had produced the most sustained rise I’d seen all season. As I say, unpredictable this game.
Simon Hadlington blogs as The Hopelessly Optimistic Angler (www.hopelesslyoptimisticangler.com)
