The Art Of The Fly

I spent a thoroughly enjoyable few hours down the river yesterday which was met with a number of trout and grayling, and some thoroughly pleasant weather. Whilst I was down there I did the usual ringing of the changes with the fly which also ultimately led to changing casts as every fly change goes through 2-4 inches of leader. During this I noticed a great deal of difference between the quality of flies bought and used, and the differences in quality of leader and leader materials.

Flies are flies are flies – you may think. So untrue. I have recently found a very cheap place for flies on the interweb and invested in a great number of flies prior to the start of the season, based upon the fact that I had no time to tie up my own. At first glance they looked ok – albeit somewhat bulky, and yesterday it was so obvious that they were (generally) rubbish. Not a single fish was caught on a bought fly, instead they were all captured on creations of my own dear hands, in fact when I look back at the season, the majority of fish have been caught on flies of my own creation and not budget interweb flies.

I have to say (in defence of my own store) that all of the flies that I sell I consider to be of good quality, but as I cannot dip into my own stock I have to either buy or tie my own. Therefore like you I am constantly scouring the Internet for good affordable flies. I am rapidly coming to the conclusion that generally there aren’t any (present company excepted of course). I rather pride myself in not selling sub-standard goods, whereas obviously my own standards aren’t met by other online retailers – which is a big shame. It may of course be simpler than that and in future I only use flies that i have tied myself that I know will work, but I doubt it as I only buy flies that I know ‘will work’ but unfortunately don’t (if you see what I mean).

Most flies are tied offshore in factories with conditions that lead a lot to be desired. I have no comment on that and I suggest that you make up your own views, however it is safe to say that quantity comes before quality in the majority of cases, which is one of the reasons why I am running down the stock and variety of flies that I sell as I would rather stock fewer quality flies that I have some control over as opposed to dozens of patterns shipped by the hundreds. I wish that other online retailers would stick to the same standards.

Another thing that I noticed yesterday was a propensity for the leader/line to tangle in the same places every time and in the same way, also the fly on many occasions didn’t turn over properly. Now I am not the most expert caster of a fly rod in the world, I wish that I was, however I can generally throw out a good line (the delights of the Snake Roll and the Snap-T still elude me), but I have noticed recently a propensity for problems. Of course the next time out I will look to break down my casting and repair any problems (or at least attempt to), but recently I have changed tapered leader and tippet materials. I have come to the conclusion that they also are problematic. The Frog Hair fluorocarbon tapered leaders seem to not be right, the connections with the tippet materials seem to be too bulky, and the 3lb fluoro is thicker than the tippet end. This of course is my fault, but why should the 3lb tippet be bulkier than the 3lb taper tip? Perhaps I now have to start looking closer at the ‘x’ categorisation of the lines other than weight, but why should there be such a marked difference in quality, even from the same manufacturer? Surely some sense should prevail?

So – before I venture out again I will sort out the terminal end of the line, and tie up some of the flies that I know that I need rather than buy some in – I may even end up invoicing myself and get some of my flies on the end of the line, you see quality matters at the end of the day, and you get what you pay for.

Regarding the casting – I may have to reinvest in some tuition and get the rough edges off my action too, but first I will attempt to sort myself out as I have an idea what’s wrong already – we shall have to see. Of course it’s not the workman but his tools – as we all know, I shall however put some money and time aside for the casting tuition – just in case I am the exception rather than the rule. (I wonder if Jim’s free?)

………. my life, my iPad, Mother Nature, the wonderful English weather, my family and water.

My life – I am so lucky in that I can take time off within reason and escape from the hubbub of humanity and disappear down to the river. Ok – when not in work the money isn’t forthcoming, but there’s far more to life than work and I intend to make the most of the time that I will have here.

My iPad – because I am a complete boys toys chappie and it makes life so easy just to switch it on, check my email and write this blog entry.

Mother Nature – without whom life would be so boring, stagnant and stale. It’s she that provides the spectacular backdrop to my life here in the Yorkshire Dales and it is she that provided such a glorious day without a breath of wind. Truly a marvellous late August day. Thankyou.

The Wonderful English Weather – because when it’s good it’s fantastic and probably the best place in the world. Ok we all hate it when it’s cold, wet, windy (and I’ve had a pop at it here before today) and we don’t like the evenings drawing in, but when it’s like it has been today on the 27th of August the year of Our Lord 2010 it is possibly perfect (ok its not a billion degrees but bits comfortable, still and the sun is shining. Perfect!

My Family – because they put up with me and my fixation on fishing and water. They all know by now that I’m a complete looney and they are used to finding my notes on the kitchen table which always read a variation of ‘Gone Fishing!’ – I have missed birthdays, wedding anniversaries (brave I know) and countless meals whilst I have disappeared to my watery world.

Water – well you know why. I am drawn to it whether it be rivers, canals, lakes, reservoirs or the sea. It’s always fascinated me and of course it holds those elusive fish.

Life is good.

Things that I don’t like though are Simms Waders. They should be the best in the world, but the reality is that mine leak like tea bags. Another pair? Or a repair?

Picture courtesy of the gorgeous Sue Beerling

A beautiful and typical late summer’s morning this morning. The temperature a comfortable 10 degrees at 6:30 am, the sun brightly shining from its low point in the nearing-autumnal sky, and the low lying fog is sitting stubbornly in the hollows of the valleys and hills waiting to be burnt away. It’s a photographers dream and the type of morning that makes you glad to be alive and happy after all to be living in England.

The birds have been awake now for an hour and a half, and as the blackbirds are skipping in the dewy grass searching for the early worm you can almost hear the swallows starting to pack their winter suitcase before they start their annual exodus to Africa. It’s breathlessly still and I know that its going to be a great day.

The house is still asleep as I slip out of the front door and start the car. The windows are covered and need a blast from the demister and a swish of the wipers to clear them before I slip quietly down the road and head off down the road.

To work!
Normally I would throw in the towel and accept that I have to work to live and that it will be okay, but this morning it’s a bit different as I know that the rest of the week – and weekend – may be grim, also at least 2 of my evenings are taken up with other things – and the darker evenings are closing in. I should just forget it and accept the realities of life – but its very difficult as I head down the A59 with my head pointing to work and my heart pointing to the river.

Last week whilst out fishing I met a smashing chap who has recently retired and seems to be dedicating his new freedom to casting a fly wherever he can. I have to admit I am insanely jealous as I would love nothing more than for us to be able to live the life that we are accustomed to without the shackles of work, but I know that this won’t be a reality in my household for some years.

Off down the road, pushing all thoughts of fishing out of my mind so that I can concentrate on the day at work.

That is until I crossed the Ribble.
As if to taunt me there are a couple of anglers waded out into the river, each with a large gye net strapped to his back casting a salmon line across the water in the early morning sun. I know that the river is almost perfect and I reckon that their chances must be pretty good – everything looks fishy! They must have woken up as I did and as if reading my mind set out to make the most of the day.

In a way I’m sick as would love to be with them, but in another way I am glad that at least somebody is making the best of the idyllic English August morning. It was with mixed feelings that I turned on to the motorway and left them in the rear view mirror.

Good luck guys – I hope that the fish are running – but even if they aren’t I guarantee that you will have a fantastic morning on this beautiful day.

Perhaps Tuesday evening?

Early August and of course the weather is trying it’s best to make us feel like it’s November. Nevertheless being of doubtful sanity I thought that it would be a great idea to start work very early (6 o’clock this morning to be exact) and get down la rivière for the afternoon. My fishing buddies ( well buddy actually ) had tipped me the nod that he was unable to join me ( as he had a quadruple heart bypass 3 weeks ago – the lengths some people will go to to avoid me ), so it was a steeley but lonely Craig that set off alone down to the Wharfe.
Rumbling down the road the wind was howling and I knew that it would not be a pleasant August afternoon.
On arrival I spent a fine 15 minutes chatting to an elderly couple from Richmond who were out for an early afternoon stroll. Absolutely lovely couple who were more than interested in the river, the wildlife and the bird life – usually the grockles are a pain in the proverbial but it was a delight to chat to these two and as we bade each other adieu I just hoped that me and Mrs G would be like that in the twilight of our years.
It was with some trepidation that I set up the 4 weight ( as the river was high and the wind howling ) and after the first 10 minutes I had caught 4 fish. Then I had company as another angler pulled his car up and again I spent a good 15-20 minutes enjoying a conversation with him. As if by magic my neighbour John Hope appeared walking his dog, so once again angling ceased and conversation was the number one priority.
By the end of the evening I had snared a reasonable number of fish, including one for my pal’s supper, but that’s fairly irrelevant as I had spent some quality time meeting some wonderful people and sharing some interesting conversation. That’s what I like about fishing – you meet some really interesting people in a great environment. It’s not about catching fish, it’s about life.
I’ve decided that I like my life, in spite of the crappy English weather and the need to spend all day at work. I’m a lucky chap – you too could be as lucky – just get out there and stop watching TV.

After slogging away with a 15 foot double hander Spey-casting a 10 weight line for a week I thought that it was about time to get back to normality.

You may not have noticed but it’s been banging it down on and off for the past few weeks and of course the ground should be saturated and the rivers running sooooo high that the banks must be creaking under the weight of the water. Also it’s July and the height of summer so it will of course be scorching, nearly burning my eyes out of their sockets. So it was with no trepidation at all that I set off down the river to revel in the glory of the British summer.

Of course the telegraph pole was left in the sanctity of my home and I dusted off the trusty 2-weight magic wand and set off to the river with a spring in my step and the firm belief that it would be a glorious session.

BANG! Reality bites! This is England! No matter how much rain has fallen the river is still running low and clear with the stones on the bed of the river coated with algae and barely any current except for the faster water. In fact you wouldn’t think that it had rained! Why?
I know that the Wharfe is famous for rising quickly and dropping just as quickly, but I also reckon that those hard-up farmers have too much leeway in running the water off the rivers to irrigate their precious crops. Now I may be an old cynic but I surmise that nobody gives a monkeys arse about rivers and fishermen, except of course fishermen, so we will have to accept that we will always be the poor man to the rest of civilisation – which Is surprising as its the biggest participant sport in the world, but hey ho!

Hot and summer swelters? No chance! It was cold, windy and downright horrible so I was amazed that I actually caught some trout and grayling, but it wasn’t pleasant!

Perhaps I should give up and just fish in the hot Gulf of Mexico and Bahamas for a week a year!

Dunno – I will sleep on it!

It’s 5:41 on Friday morning and there’s only today and tomorrow left before I head back to Skipton. The fishing here on the Findhorn is divided up into 3 large beats each about 2 miles long. They have strange names which are probably meaningful to the local history and geography but we call them Upper, Middle and Lower. Allegedly the lower beat fishes best at low water, and its the lower beat that we are due to fish today. Normally I would be already out fishing just outside the lodge which is next to the bridge pool at the Middle beat, but we aren’t allowed as its not our beat today, therefore I have a little lie in which enables me to write this.

Its a strange thing but confidence breeds success, and I was very confident yesterday morning and the end result was 2 salmon banked, 1 lost and numerous wild Brown Trout. Today however I don’t have any warm glowing feeling about it but we shall have to wait and see. Saturday is the last day and is the Upper beat. If today brings few or no fish I may not be completely inclined to even fish the last day, but as I said we shall have to wait and see.

It’s been some time since I’ve been salmon fishing with my usual fishing buddy Johnny Beerling, and it will be some time again yet as JB has been rather laid up this week, in fact he’s currently laid up in Leeds General Infirmary having just been under the surgeons knife having no less that a Quadruple Heart Bypass. Now JB never does anything by half measures and I suppose that I’m surprised that he has not gone for the complete heart transplant, but he must be currently very uncomfortable and feeling sorry for himself. Although this place has no mobile phone signal I drove out on Wednesday until I could get one and rang Sue, Johns wife. Although he’s in Intensive Care he’s fine and they normally would be looking to send him home a week after the Op. I wouldn’t like to be Sue then as I bet that he will be as frustrated as hell until he can get around and do the things that he wants to do again. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s got a skiing trip pencilled in for later this year, and undoubtedly he will be planning a lecture cruise. When I get back to civilisation I will be trying to get over to LGI but may not make it until he’s home. The thought’s there though. So get well soon JB and perhaps next year you will be launching the salmon rod again.

6:00 now. Probably time to get up. An early breakfast and then perhaps away. We shall see. No less than 6 fish today is a failure.

It’s been some time since I did an update on the blog – so whilst I’ve a spare couple of minutes between work, the World Cup and household chores I thought that I would give it a bash.

It’s strange how time catches up. Its now mid-June and the season is well into it’s best period. By now the mayfly should have hung up their wings, the swallows should all be well-ensconced in their summer domiciles and the fish will by now know the tell-tale signs of a dangler out to capture them.

I’ve had a good few weeks, both alone and with my good pal JB. To be fair the weather has been almost perfect, at the end of May a little cold in the evenings, but now it’s almost peaking as if its the heart of summer. If I was a weaker chap I would have been up dead early at weekends and off down the river, but I’ve been too damned idle and busy doing other things (usually feeling a little rough from the night before) but I can’t complain as I’ve given the river a fair old bashing.

As usual the fish have grown wiser. I can almost hear them calling out the names of the flies as they drift over them, and I have now had to scale down the hook sizes to 18 and even 20 sometimes, even then they have been too big sometimes, but we persevere as only we can.

A strange thing happened the other week when I hooked what I thought was a tiddler sipping down nymphs in 2 feet of water. It took off like an express train and I never had a chance. That was probably the biggest trout I’ve hooked in the river, and will be this season’s ‘The One That Got Away’ story – until I hook the Russian submarine next time out.

But that’s enough of the river, for tomorrow I am lucky enough to be jetting off to Belize in search of Tarpon, Permit and Bonefish. First trip to Belize and I am having to take a shed load of tackle. As usual the baggage allowance has been taken up with the gear and clothes have taken a back seat. In fact I may have to resort to fishing in my wading boots, bum-bag and mankini! A sight for sore eyes you will bet!

I shall endeavour to post a diary (with photos) every day, provided that the lodge has wireless, otherwise there may be a great deluge of posts when I return.

In the meantime, have a great summer and ‘Come On England!’

Not exactly Smokin’ Joe Frasier but here’s another old warrior – unfortunately ended up Smoked on a plate rather than in a ring.

It’s a strange thing but today I’ve spent a good (well actually an excellent) five hours with my buddy Johnny down the river. Since he escaped the unpronounceable Icelandic cloud we’ve had a few trips down to the river and it’s been so enjoyable I haven’t had words to put together. But now it’s different.

Today JB declared (as he used to on the radio) that ‘it would not rain’ – so we set off at 7:30 ‘Sans waterproofs’. Well again JB was on the money – but now at 23:26 PM it’s absolutely hosing it down outside. I appreciate that JB meant this morning (and to be fare JB you were spot on) but I thought that my new set of bedding plants of Cactus and Coconut Trees would be fine – surely it won’t rain and it cannot get cold?

Alas no!

It’s so cold as I sit here I’m very worried about the royal acres and by now the garden should now be awash! That’s all good news of course (except for the protection of the Royal Nads) and by God the garden really needs a good soaking, but no! Again at 23:30 it’s stopped!

So where’s the wet stuff?  - Seem strange but everything’s missing it! The river is too low and needs to flush away the algae and crap, the garden is like a concrete bowl, and the word on the street is that there may be a hosepipe ban later this week. – In May????!!!??

This is where Smokin’ Joe would step in and dismiss the drought as a figment of Cassius’ imagination, there’s plenty of water man! Just use it!

Well Smokin’ Joe, it’s no wonder Cassius did the business. WE NEED WATER!

Just t confirm that – here’s a picture of a fish that I caught on Tuesday evening. Just look how dry it is! I wonder what Smokin’ would have made of it?

Smokin' Joe

Again – lets hope that it pours again – too late for this trutta – but not too late for the rest of us mere mortals!

The Bowl

It’s not often that I venture out to the concrete bowl that’s part of the local club’s syndicate waters, but on Sunday I thought that I’d give it a shot.

On Sunday’s my father comes over for tea and watch the sport with us. This has been a regular thing since my mother died, and we try to tie it in with a mundane trip to the supermarket, and an afternoon watching my son’s football team get a good hiding (or give one out). Last weekend the local football season ended so now the weekends are free, Saturday was a blinding hot sunny day, so I suspected that Sunday may be the same. I therefore planned to get a couple of BBQ trout and we could spend a balmy late Spring Sunday afternoon outside for tea.

Of course the best laid plans went to pot and Sunday was a dull, wet day, but nevertheless I thought that I would give it a bash still, best laid plans and all that!

I spent a grand total of an hour and three quarters fishing the dull lifeless concrete bowl that is the reservoir. To be honest I treat it as a BBQ fishery (as I don’t tend to take trout from the river), and as you can see from the picture, perhaps you can understand why. To say that it’s boring is an understatement, there is no bankside vegetation to speak of, there’s no natural fly life (except perhaps for the buzzers in summer), and it’s as interesting as a train-spotter on a Sunday afternoon.

A trout for dad, and a bigger trout for my neighbour – then I came away.

It sounds like I didn’t enjoy it, but in a crazy way I did. You see there’s something that’s quite fun in stripping a lure back and watching the bow-wave of the fish as they chase it through the water, boiling as they miss it and set off back after it. Reservoir trout (especially the blues) truly get annoyed and attack the aggressor with vigour, giving some enjoyable sport even though it’s framed in the grey bowl of the reservoir. I could have caught more with a sunken lure, but it wouldn’t have been as much fun. But nearly 2 hours was enough.

Don’t get me wrong, I love fishing of any kind, and I do enjoy (with limits) reservoir/lake fishing in the right environment. I just don’t like fishing the soul-less. I think that I will use it as the BBQ source, and nothing more.

Last night I thought that I’d waste another few hours down the river. My appointment at the Physio meant that I was home at 5 which meant that I’d be able to get a couple of hours in before dark. Catherine was going out, Ben’s always out and Ally had a friend staying – so me disappearing down the Wharfe would be good for everybody.

Given that it was cold and I would probably need to use a heavy fly I packed up the 4-weight and vamoosh! Off I went.

Taking the path of least resistance I decided to go to the easiest spot so I set up in the Devonshire car park and wandered upstream.

First thing I saw was Mark the River-Keeper standing up on his Quad throwing things into the river – my guess was right – he had just stocked and was throwing pellets in to see where the fish had got to.
I enjoyed a half hour chat – he filled me in about his three months in New Zealand and how he’d like to do something more regularly in the winter months, and we generally put the world to rights before he went on his way.

We agreed that the river was still not up to its proper state and that it was still too cold, the trutta were still not showing properly but the thymallus were still showing. – And it was bloody cold – I wished I’d have worn the gloves as the evening went on (me getting older and weaker and all that).

Any roads, I fished way below where the stocking had taken place – and managed 9 fish losing 5, don’t know whether I was getting the newly dispersed fish, but it wasn’t easy and I suspected that it was about 50-50 – I could tell the difference between the new stockies and the wild fish.

Bashing stock fish isn’t sport so I moved and caught a few more before I simply got too cold.

I reckon that it needs a good spell of warm weather for the trout to start feeding properly, there are no flies coming off to speak of, and the stone turns show little nymph life yet. Perhaps this week will see some warmer days and some rain – which should just do the job.

Today is perfect, but too many jobs to do and an appointment with Peter Kay this evening. – I may get out again tomorrow -we shall just have to see. One thing that I meant to do but forgot was take some pictures. Next time it will be my first job. Trying the panorama function – I wonder if it will work?