The Art Of The Fly

So here’s the thing……

Everybody who should know better keeps making excuses for not catching salmon, and believe me those excuses can vary so much that some of them are almost unbelievable (but I believe that any excuse is valid – after all – I’ve used a few myself in my time). However, one that always seems to pop up is that of Air Pressure. – Low Pressure = No Taking Fish, whereas High Pressure = Fishing Bananza!

I have some very good friends, I’m quite blessed in that way, and there’s a couple of them that are quite fixed in the belief that this rings true. If you’ve ever been out with them you could even hazard a guess that when the pressure is low they may even be inclined to stay in the hotel bar and not bother trying to catch a fish at all.

This is all about Salmon again – and specifically (as seen on my last post) the recent trip to Traquair. You see its been bothering me – and I’ve been wondering if there’s any truth to it at all. Well, my conclusion is NOT (well probably not).

Since we returned I have been studiously capturing the River Level (at 5:30 that morning), the Air Pressure (at 12 Lunchtime that day), and (of course) the number of fish caught. Not completely scientific you will agree – but not that bad as an indicator. All of the data was captured at Traquair, with air pressure and water height at Peebles.

Here are 2 charts:

Air Pressure against Fish Caught:

Air Pressure vs Fish Caught - Traquair

And Water Height against Fish Caught

Tweed - Water Height vs Fish

The Red Background shows the number of fish caught on each day, superimposed with the trend for the Air Pressure and the Water Height. I’m no statistician, and this isn’t too scientific, but I reckon that you should ignore values and look at trends instead.

To me this shows a trend that when the water is high, more fish are caught (height is in inches above summer levels), whereas the AIr Pressure doesn’t seem to trend against the fish caught at all.

This is a snapshot – and I would love to follow it up with FishPal next year (in fact I may contact them about it). – But I reckon that it throws stones at the Air Pressure idea. Of course there are lots of other things that make up the general fishing conditions, not least the ability of the anglers, but food for thought!

Its been nearly 4 weeks since our less than useful attempts to catch a salmon from the Tweed at Traquair, and although we were all disappointed we all knew that there were literally hundreds of fish in the river, and many of them fresh so far up too. So what was the problem?

Well I’ve been doing some trawling around and looking at the reports and monitoring a number of Tweed Blogs, and (not making any excuses) it would appear that the whole river has been suffering. There are countless reports of lots of fish and no takes, and the general feedback seems to be that the river is stuffed with fish, some of which however are diseased, and most of which are not taking a fly.

So why is this?

We fishermen always like an excuse, and there are many being put forwards by disappointed anglers (strangely not a single one has suggested that they were crap fishermen!), but this time there are many reports from grilles and from regulars that live by the river.
The general consensus seems to be that the fish were in the river too early, levels have been low, and water temperatures high. As a result they are all confused??!!??
Now I’m confused. I can understand the water level issues, but not temperature. The fish have plenty of oxygen and therefore shouldn’t care a jot about the temperature of the water should they? Its not at bath-levels – and believe me its still bloody cold if you are stood in it for a few hours, so in the absence of any hard evidence I would suggest that this is nonsense.

So what is the reason for generally poor returns all down the river this back-end of the season? I simply don’t know. Is it something thats happening at sea? Is it a general lack of water (that’s my favoured reason), or are fishermen getting worse? (Possible, but not me, and probably not you either). Strangely the trout fishing on the rivers has been generally hit and miss as well this season (and thats been another general report), so it may well be that its been an overall bad year. To me we need more rain.

So, on a slightly different tack – a couple of my friends swear blind that its all to do with atmospheric pressure. Well I’ve been taking some stats. have a look at my next post.

The last 2 days were perfect.

Nothing was caught.

The end of the Tweed Blog.

And so the intrepid gang set out to fill our bags with dozens of slippery silver salmon. Of course before that we had to wait for the gillie to turn up and allocate the beats, so it’s was about 9:30 when I cast my first line of the day. Others probably didn’t start fishing until about 10 – but that’s their choice and good luck to them. Given that they finished at 12 for lunch, started again at 1 and packed up at 4 ….. work that out for yourselves. As for us – we fished our socks off.

Don’t be led into a false sense of security there, our socks were indeed coming off as we changed fly, depth, speed of retrieve, everything possibly that could be changed in order to catch the fish that were obviously there as they were splashing all around us. The river was in perfect nick, running clear, 1ft 8 over summer heights (spot on) we were obviously professional anglers – at least we looked like were – kitted out in the latest gear, spey-casting like gooduns, mending the line, not mending the line, etc etc. out of 45 total hours fishing yesterday (between 9 anglers), the grand total of 1 salmon was caught. Well done David Kirby-Walsh! David also lost another one at the net whilst the gillie was strolling down the bank, so top rod to David, Bottom rod to the gillie for costing him a fish, and Bottom rods for the rest of us for catching bugger all.

To be fair some of us had good tugs from fish, I had one on for 3 seconds, but we just couldn’t catch.

Today the forecast is for a deluge of rain, so far (it’s 6am) it doesn’t sound like it outside, so we may be very lucky. We will have to see for it pans out.

Oh – I almost forgot. Sharing the beat with us are 2 Swiss anglers. They also look the part, they also caught nothing. They also are quite unfriendly. Typical Swiss I suppose!

If it pours down today it may mean the end of the trip and an early drive home!

It seems almost normal to be lying in a strange bed at 5 am waiting for the day to start properly on a days fishing somewhere new. This is the start of the annual pilgrimage to the mighty Tweed in Scotland where we brave all in pursuit if that elusive bar of silver/red/black called the salmon.

After an uneventful drive up in some fair weather we arrived at the Park Hotel in Peebles and met the rest of the party in the hotel bar. As usual the Sunday evening was a jolly affair, old friends being reacquainted, the last 12 months to be caught up on and I am very happy to report that everybody is in very fine fettle. Just to cover off the formalities the niceties of the following day (today) were shared (meet with the gillie at 9) where we be allocated the beats.

That’s my first bugbear with the day. 9am means that in reality the first cast of the day will be at around 9:30. Now call me crazy but it’s light at 7:30 and dark at 5. Last time that I checked salmon do not wear wrist watches, so personally I would prefer to be casting to them as soon as I can – I can then have only myself to blame if I choose not to fish, not a gillie who can’t be bothered to get out of bed. Call me harsh if you like, but this is serious stuff, we can jolly and jape when it’s dark back at the hotel but until then this is fishing.

Ah well that’s out of the system. As I said, it’s 5 am and I’m wide awake. Sleep doesn’t come that easily these days, and to be in bed at 10:15 was to me almost alien. Given that I’ve been awake since around 3:30 and watched the very moving film Senna on the iPad, I should be thankful that I’ve had nearly 5 hours sleep.

This may seem a little rambly and disjointed but I suppose that’s tiredness for you. However I am ready for day 1 of 3.

As we arrived yesterday evening we took a few minutes to have a look at the river. It was running high but clear and we saw salmon moving both in and out of the water. Of course the proof shall be in today’s pudding. I fear that today will be the best day to catch as there the forecast of heavy rain moving in from early Tuesday morning and I fear that we may be washed off the river for at least a day and possibly 2. However fingers crossed that the professionals of the Met Office have again got it wrong.

Let’s see what today brings. Fish or not I shall write this evening on my return.

Well there’s only 2 days left until the end of the trout season in our local rivers, and it gives me a chance to reflect on what has been another strange angling year.

Just to prove that fly fishing is not too easy, all of the flies that caught really well last year were average this year (the black-arsed fly may as well have stayed in the box) whilst some old classics (such as the Greenwells Glory) caught steadily all year! It’s just been a really, really strange season, the only thing that’s been constant is that the weather has been variable to crap, and that there’s been no consistency to how the river has fished.

Every year I look back and think ‘what could I have done differently‘ and ‘what should I have remembered‘.

I should have remembered that the old maxim of ‘if the fish are taking then they’ll take anything‘ is (to be frank) complete bollocks. There was a particular time towards the latter end of the summer when John and I threw the contents of the box at a great number of rising fish – to absolutely no avail (if I recollect I caught one of them by giving a fly a mighty twitch as it went over the fish’s snout), whereas another time I caught a bagful on a newly tied concoction whilst John couldn’t get a sniff. So, whoever penned that phrase – get back in your box!

Another point of reference has been presentation. Small fish are fairly easy to snag if you have the right fly on, but the wary old grand-pappy won’t touch anything out of the ordinary. Line drag – forget it! Leader visible on the surface – forget it! Fly landing with a splash – go home now! So I have made a point this season of trying to present the fly in as favourable a way as possible. It hasn’t been perfect, but it’s made an improvement on otherwise blank days.

Movement. Not me – the fly. How many times this season have I induced a take by twitching the fly as it’s moved over the danger area? A hell of a lot, that’s how many. In fact I would say that nearly 50% of my fish this season have been as a result of imparting some movement into the fly (probably an exaggeration, but it seems that way). Whether the fly has been dry or under water, the aggressive nature of the trout has been proven time and time again.

Size isn’t everything, but it sure makes a huge difference. The best Grayling that I have caught so far came this season to a size 18 GRHE tin-head nymph, in some very fast and turbulent water. Also, on the other hand, 2 weeks ago I caught a nice trout on a size 18 dry fly, and extricated from it’s scissors a size 12 Klinkhammer which looked the size of a small submarine. As the season has progressed though, it has generally been the case that the large flies have been useless and the smaller flies have worked. I suppose that’s only to be expected as the trout have become more fly-savvy.

What else?
Variety is the spice of life. This season I have fished spots that I have never fished before, and it’s been a very worthwhile experience (no haven’t been down to the Dart or the Test) – I have fished runs and swims that I’ve previously ignored, usually to some quite good results. Also the regularly fished areas have been more ignored and left alone. Ok – I have travelled a little further, climbed about a little more, but generally had a far better time of it.

Patience really is a virtue. My pal John usually after a few hours has a good rest and gets his head down for a half hour. Whereas me – I stick at it and ring the changes, and sometimes it’s had some quite satisfying results. I reckon that I’m probably up on John with fish per trip, and that’s not that I’m a better fisherman (John will do me on the dry fly every time) but that I stick at it and change flies and tactics more often.

What’s been my most memorable moments this season (river only)?

Undoubtedly the best bit of fishing I’ve done was a moment in the middle of July (in fact I think that I wrote about it here). One chance at a nice trout, a difficult cast with a large dry mayfly, landed perfectly, sipped down like it was the tastiest mayfly on the river, and a fine trout on the bank.

Also (and this has happened a few times) my eyes adjusting to the conditions so well that I have seen the trout rise through the water to have a look at the fly before taking it as naturally as you like (also a few that have had a look and thought ‘nah – I don’t like that flavour‘).

Worst moment? Easy – and eyes again! Not too long ago when John and I went down the river in the evening. The light was poor and (as I seem to be getting worse) I couldn’t see the fly, the fish, or in some cases it seemed even the river. This particular evening was a bit of a watershed for me, as for the first time I actually wondered how long I would be able to fish for before I become as blind as a bat!

All in all, once again it’s been an enjoyable and different season. Once again I’ve thoroughly enjoyed my fishing (most of the time), enjoyed John’s company (all of the time) and been as competitive as the next man (again all of the time). I see each fishing trip as a challenge, not against John, but against the conditions and the fish. More often than not the fish have risen to the challenge whereas I have not – there has been the odd occasion where I have won.

And so the trout season is coming to an end. The nights have drawn in (19:14 and dark outside), the days have become colder (although a balmy 24 today – yes 24 – at the end of September!!) and I have been unable to wet a line for weeks.

But…….
The Grayling season is kicking in (I have made myself a personal challenge to get into some more Grayling this winter) and (he says with mounting excitement) it’s nearly SALMON TIME! Yes folks, my annual trip to the Tweed is only a couple of weeks off (in fact I nearly sneaked in an extra couple of days next week, before I realised she-who-must-be-obeyed would probably do her nut), so I will have to make do with my fantastic 3 days and 4 nights of salmon fishing fun at the end of October.

And so it has started, the anticipation of the winter fishing, the lure of the salmon in Scotland, and the planning and booking of next year’s trips.

I just love this sport, in fact strike sport, I just love fishing. Until next time…..

This week is the world-renowned Grassington Festival which draws in acts from all parts of the entertainment industry. Last night my friends and I sat through a thoroughly enjoyable 2 hours plus of recording of the BBC Radio 4 show ‘I’m Sorry I Haven’t A Clue’ which was just cracking. It was made better by finding out that the bar stocks Thatchers Cider so on Saturday I will be returning via Taxi for the grand finale, and I may just fill my boots with some Thatchers Gold!
That’s come at the end of a week where we have also been bouncing around the country on the annual Bon Jovi pilgrimage which culminated in a fantastic sunny day at Hyde Park in London. Just to complete the week my better half and my daughter spent Monday down at the Tennis watching Williams, Federer and co in the baking heat!
Feast – what a week!

On the fishy side I’ve been out a couple of times too this week, and it’s been a trout famine. In fact I’ve caught just a couple of trout this week in what should have been ideal conditions, but they have been hiding, possibly in the beer tent up at Grassington.

However what a festival of fun I have had with the Lady of the River this week as I don’t seem to be able to stop catching Grayling! On Monday I pulled in a pig of a fish, which I didn’t take a picture of (as I wanted to get the lady back in the water) but I reckon that it was at least 2 and a half pounds, possibly knocking 3 – and thats a huge fish, the biggest Grayling I’ve seen never mind caught! Then the other evening when JB was wrangling with the trout I again snagged 4 Grayling on the bounce!

Now I’ve a theory about this. The Wharfe runs through Grassington, and I think that the trout may have been all drawn up the river to listen to the festivities up the Dale, whereas the more refined ladies have been hanging around and milking the chance of having some peace and quiet whilst the rabble trout are all partying!

Of course it may be something else, but the Grassington Festival influence extends everywhere and I really do reckon that the trout have heard about it too.

This weekend is the end of the festival. I wonder it the river will return to normal next week? I shall have to see.

How long does is take to build a house?
I reckon that given you have the amenities available for connection that from nothing to having the house up, built, furnished and decorated it could all be done in 2 months max. Call me crazy but let’s be honest, it’s pretty easy.
Back at the ranch we are having our own Wall of Jericho built. It’s not 5 feet thick and it’s not 15 feet high, in fact it may not even be 15 feet long, but I reckon that it’s taking as long. As I look out at our front garden there’s the obligatory huge sack of sand and cement on the front lawn, a pile of bricks, a great big mess including a big hole, and precious little else.
That’s only to be expected you may say, these things don’t appear overnight, and you would be right. The only problem is that it’s been like that now for 6 weeks. Thats nearly as long as it would take to build the whole flipping house!
I’m not trying to protect us from the floods, nor keep out the Scots, nor draw a long border defence that can allegedly be seen from space, I’m just trying to get a simple wall moved so that we can double the size of our front garden and then enjoy the summer in it. Probably this last option is gone now as the intrepid builder may not appear again until the end of August or whenever he’s free again to honour us with his presence. What a great life the ‘professionals’ must have, being able to do whatever they want whenever they want at whatever price they want.
You may think I’m being unfair and having a bit of a rant, but believe me to have a front garden looking like a train wreck with no idea of when it will be cleared isn’t exactly my idea of fun.

Joshua made a stone-heap on the bank; and he said, “Let this heap of stones stand here to keep in memory what has taken place to-day. When your children shall ask you, ‘Why are these stones here?’

So…….. What’s it matter to you? Well not a jot actually! And you probably think that it’s just tough, and you’d be right, but its helped for me to vent for a few minutes and have a damned good moan.
There, it’s done. I’m off now to buy an acre of land, line up a builder, plumber, sparky and joiner and knock up a brand new house. By the time I’ve finished I’ll come back and ask my other builder if he’s any idea of when he’s going to finish, and hope that he’s going to give me a date sometime this year.
In the meantime I’m going to have some random days off and start about a dozen jobs, with no idea at all of when I’m going to finish any of them. See you!

Yesterday morning it poured down – which isn’t necessarily a bad thing as there’s been scant water the last 3 months, indeed if I didn’t know better I would think that there’s a global warming issue, or perhaps it’s just getting ready to hose down for the summer. However today (Monday) it’s been a cracking day and after some research it seemed that the river was in fine fettle.
So I made plans to get away from work at 4:30 and meet my buddy so that we could get some hours in. Of course I didn’t get away until 5:30 which meant that we didn’t get to the river until 7pm. We parked at the nearest possible place and off we went for a good 2-3 hours.

On Saturday I had a couple of spare hours so I tied up a few flies. I didn’t really have any specific patterns in mind but I wanted to set up some light (white or yellow) wet flies as they seemed to have been what had been coming off the water recently. With Tups Indispensible in mind I knocked up a few, along with some white and partridge and partridge and yellow. I have to say that the ‘Tups-like’ fly looked the sheeps danglies (fly tyers joke – look up the pattern for the Tups) and I reckoned that I should give them a go next time.

So tonight on went the ‘Tups’ wet fly and bang bang bang, the fish loved it. Its one of the best feelings in the world to ‘knock up’ your own fly and kill the fish with it, and thats what happened tonight. I tied 3 up, lost 2 on crappy knots and caught 8 fish, 6 on the new fly, before it started to rain, and rain, and rain.

Fishing is off for the next week as I’ve a few things on, but the signs show that it may at last start to pick up. It was warm but wet tonight, if only the nights would stay light and long! It’s nearly bye bye June,, it’s getting warmer and a little wetter, perhaps the season is starting now. Somebody please tell the fish!

Until next Monday.

Its an annual event you see, Skipton Gala. The town gives itself up to local businesses who dress up lorries, tractors and even fire engines to parade the local boy scouts, Gala Queen, or just general party-goers. It clogs up the town for a good 2 hours and weaves its way to Aireville Park where the Gala is offically opened. The park has given itself up to the fair, which charges to get in, charges to try to win a crappy prize, and will probaly start to charge to get out! Some towns call it the ‘Walking Day’ . I call it ‘avoid it day’.

So with no bribery at all, My pal John and I fled down to the river. Strid Wood today. We haven’t fished there for about 3 years, and we thought that everywhere else would be minging with walkers with their dogs, whilst at the Strid they cannot get near to the river, except for the Strid itself.

For those that dont know the Wharfe, The Strid is infamous. The river compresses between rocks to a section which must be no more than 6 feet across. The river turns into a murderous beast and has claimed numerous lives as some people who would be best described as being keen to disprove Darwinian Theory try to jump it, fall in and drown. If they want to do it, then it’s their call, probably doing the world a favour really, but its a real bugger for the Bolton Abbey staff when a body washes up some hours or days later.

Anyhow, we didnt try to jump it but fished from there upstream instead.

Beautiful. A perfect day weather wise, the sun bursting through the overhanging foliage to provide a perfect atmosphere for fishing. No folks with their dogs, no stone-chuckers (they were either at the Gala or trying to jump the Strid), just great company, a fantastic river, and a couple of fish.

Note for the diary, Skipton Gala – River Day!