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When Everything Goes Tickity Boo!
Isn't it just great when everything goes right?
From the age of thirteen I have had a romance with the dry fly which is undiminished to this day, the salmon rod is discarded when the trout come on to the hatch. My hands shake as I attach the fly of choice to the leader and start the stealthy manoeuvres, lengthening the cast to present the fly to the rising trout. Sadly, even now when I should be calm and calculating, the excitement causes me to make foolish mistakes.
Some years ago on the Aberdeenshire Don, a trout water second to none, I witnessed a rise of trout so such intense that it was impossible to distinguish between individual fish. All across the pool fish were dimpling the surface in a feeding frenzy for a sudden fall of spinners. The Don is renowned for its big trout and on this occasion even the granddaddies were up and at the fly.
Swiftly and showing my years of experience I changed fly and leader to ensure that all was in perfect order before I commenced casting. A dab of floatant, a false cast and I sent the line drifting out among the gorging fish. I knew immediately that matters were adrift when the line I cast felt leaden. A quick check showed that in my haste I had done everything right but I forgot to attach the leader to the fly line! By the time I had rectified my error the rise was over. We have an expression in Scotland that aptly applied to me that day, numpty!
Dry fly fishing can be like that, sudden bursts of activity when you must be fully ready to take the chance. On other occasions activity can be much less frenetic. A lazy June day with no wind, a steady warm rainfall and flies hatching constantly can bring with it a day of prolonged pleasure.
Fishing the river Eden in Fife as a teenage boy I arrived at the river on a warm but wet day. The rain fell steadily with no let up or prospect of let up. Fish were rising and flies were hatching and I commenced my long stalk upstream from Cupar to Springfield Dam.
To begin with I had no success with the usual flies of choice for the Eden - Blue Dun, Medium Olive, Greenwells Glory, whilst the naturals of these flies I was using were in evidence the trout were uninterested. By mid morning my bag was empty. It was time to think, I sat in the wet grass and watched the fish feeding.
First off the feeding fish were rising regularly and at short intervals. Rises were fairly diminutive affairs with barely a surface dimple, the proudly floating duns were being ignored. I waded into the stream and scooped up a specimen and a quick trawl through my fly box found a good match, a Gold Ribbed Hairs Lug. A dab of Muscilin and the fly was cast to cover a trout which rose and ducked my offering taking the next fly in line. After a few casts the heavy bodied fly partly sank into the surface film of the river aided by the battering of the rainfall. A fish took the fly immediately. The flies that were being taken were in the surface film not on it.
With that revelation I progressed up stream I encountered every fish that I had come to know and desire but had failed to catch that year. Arriving at my pick up point at Springfield Bridge my neck ached with the weight of the 7 fish I had caught that day, all over one pound, the best fish a one and three quarter pounds from a stream where a brace of half pounders was a good bag.
Observation won that day, isn’t it good when things go tickity boo?
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