I wandered up and down a mile or so of river on Sunday morning looking for signs of fish. In two hours I spotted half a dozen very small trout, not much bigger than minnows. The previous days storms had had very little effect on the river apart from causing the fish to sulk.
After a spot of lunch I moved to a different stretch of the river. As I wandered downstream I spotted one or two fish rising here and there. Starting with the reliable John Storey soon produce a fish that I'd spotted rising. Wetting my hand in the river ir appear to be noticeably warmer than previous weeks. By now a variety of insects were fluttering about and a change to a foam dun produced fish readily. Despite the abundance of insect life the fish seemed to be shoaled up and I would often take two or three from the same swim before spooking the rest. While other stretches seemed devoid of fish even though there were plenty of insects about.
At one point a hare kindly posed for me while it waited for me to get my camera (phone) out. The moment I pointed the phone at it, it was of stopping a hundred yards away.
By tea time the insect life had all but disappeared on this stretch. I had a look at a couple of stretches, but they looked pretty lifeless so decided to head of home. I decided to make a slight detour via the Rye and was surprised to see several fish rising to a good hatch of mayfly. So, hoping I could finally catch a trout on dry from this stretch. Watching the water it was noticeable that the fish were taking the duns or the spent insects. I tried a DHE first, but couldn't really see it as I was facing into the evening sun so changed to a black klnkhamer. After a couple of casts it disappeared and in came a decent sized, but rather scruffy dace. I took a couple more identical ones before wandering along the river. A couple more dace came to hand before I spotted a couple of trout porpoising mid stream. Second cast, and I was in. This was not one of the fish I'd spotted, it was much bigger. Not the sort of thing my little 7' rod was intended for. Eventually I had it heading back downstream towards me. As it swam past I wondered if I'd hooked a sea trout or salmon, it was very large and silvery. It continued downstream seemingly unaware it had been hooked. A 3lb tippet doesn't allow for a huge amount of pressure to be applied. A quick leap as if to show me it's size. The pink flash confirming it to be a large rainbow about 7-8lb. A another acrobatic display and everything went slack, it had thrown the hook. Oh well, I really wanted a WBT to be my first dry caught fish from here anyway.
I've taken several 'bows, escapees from a fish farm I believe, on lures, maggots and even luncheon meat, but nothing approach the size of the beastie I'd just lost. The two smaller trout I'd seen porpoising early had disappeared. The only fish I could see risng were a large shoal of dace, now taking the spent mayflies. I do hope they'll stick around until autumn when they should be back to shiny bars of silver.
Sunday saw me trying not to interfere with the cyclists as they struggled up some rather nasty climbs on a narrow little moor's road as I headed to the Esk, again.
I was pleased to see a few small uprights fluttering about as I headed to the downstream end of the section I intended to fish. This gave me a hint as to what fly to start with, a small foam olive, which was steadfastly ignored by the rising fish. Opening the fly box, and staring at the river, for inspiration an IOBO fell out so on it went. First cast, a take and first fish to hand. Casting to another fish the fly was again ignored. Another change, to a DHE resulted in more ignoring. This was going to be a trying day. On went the fourth fly of the day, a John Storey and with it a second fish. This proved to be the winning fly for the next hour or so with a dozen fish coming to hand as I wandered upstream casting to rising fish. I also saw a couple of Large Green Duns, a beastie I haven’t seen in a long while, struggling to gain height before a gust wafted them into a bramble patch.
Rounding a bend, I spotted one of the river's larger residents stationed behind a tree root on the far bank. Creeping along the bank to get into a suitable position for a cast I missed my footing as a failed to see a sharp drop in among the now lush vegetation. Flailing around trying not to fall in, break the rod, sprain my ankle, obviously, spooked the fish.
Sitting down for a drink and something to eat a couple of Yellow May Duns fluttered past. One of which was taken by the aforementioned trout, which had magically reappeared, as it alighted on the water. Three more drifted down, two of which were quickly grabbed by the trout. A short while later a few broom petals drifted down with the trout rising to one of them. Rummaging through the fly boxes for something yellow, or even vaguely yellow, proved fruitless. Must tie some OE Yellow Hammers. I had a chuck with the John Storey. This was ignored as the fish preferred, instead, to rise to another broom petal. Impaling a couple of broom petals on the hook proved to be inspired as the fish rose and took the fly, and petals. With the strike the fish shot upstream, only to shed the hook moments later. I wasn't really upset, more surprised it worked at all.
I managed another fish as I headed on upstream, but the river seemed to die with no insects about and no fish rising in the now bright tea time sun.
After a cuppa and something more to eat the river came alive again as the evening cooled. I managed four more on a small Grey Duster, as the John Storey was now been refused, although the takes were becoming increasingly harder to hit. I did, however, find an old ford now no-longer connected to the road as it had been replaced by a modern bridge. I also found a bike frame, something normally associated with inner-city waterways.
Over the years I've been told by many anglers that, little trout in small rivers or streams are greedy and will grab anything that floats past. On occasions they will, but some times they can be really finicky and Sunday's session on a stretch I hadn't fished before proved the point.
Surveying the river from the bridge I watched a chap worming, on the down stream section. He looked somewhat frustrated, having struck and missed, inspecting his hook. As he trudged up to me while I was getting set up I asked " Any Luck?". "Two", he replied, "Been a bloody frustrating morning". He went on to tell me how he'd watch small trout nipping at the end of the worm or even swimming straight past it. "Good Luck! This rivers a real sod when it's this low and clear... and this fish are even worse."
Wandering upstream I spotted a fish rising nest to some trailing branches. Hiding behind another tree I was able to lower the fly onto the water right below the rod tip. The little trout shot out from under the branches, missing the fly and nearly threw it's self out of the water. As I repositioned my feet, to stop myself sliding down the bank, I felt a tug on the rod tip. Trout number one hooked and landed. One of the smallest I've ever caught, on fly.
What followed proved to be an interesting, and frustrating day. Several times trout would rise to the fly and miss. Other times it would be ignored. I ended the day with five fish to four different flies, all dries. It wasn't just artificials they missed either. Sat watching a couple of small olives drift down it took one little fish attempts to grab one.
One amusing incident was while I was have a sandwich and drink, An early daddy-long-legs got blown on the water. A fish swam up to it very slowly before seeming to pull each of it's legs of before grabbing it and swimming away, with the wings clearly outside of it's mouth.
I should have given up about a third of my way into the journey to the Esk, when the drizzle started. With a cold wind also blowing this was not going to be a pleasant day. Still I was only at the southern end of the moors, what the weather would be like at the northern end was any bodies guess. When I arrived at my chosen spot the drizzle had stopped, but getting out of the car the wind cut me in half.
I wandered up the river looking for signs of life, but nothing showed so set the rod up with a gold head PTN. A couple of hours later, having tried several different nymphs to no avail. I hid under a high bank out of the wind while I had some lunch. Just as I'd finished a fish rose upstream of me. A change to a DHE and I was in first cast. A slightly larger than average WBT. With hopes buoyed up I continued upstream. I saw about half a dozen fish rise, but apart from a couple of splashy rises at one spot I couldn't elicit any response from them.
By now then drizzle had started again and my hands were frozen. Walking back to the car I didn't see much to inspire me to stay, apart from a couple of little trout leaping clear of the water under some trees. I had a half-hearted go for them, but the strong gusty wind that had sprung back up only made a rather awkward cast, really awkward.
I had a look at a couple of other stretches, to see if anything inspired, it didn't. Se made may way home.
Despite the threat of a strong breeze and the bank holiday traffic I made the late decision to have a go at a local beck.. Not far into the journey I abandoned the slow moving traffic on the main road and dodged down the single track roads to my chosen venue. Not long after arriving I had a quick chat with a fellow angler, out walking his dogs. Like me he had spotted a few Hawthorn flies about. He'd also spotted a couple of fish rising on the downstream stretch he'd just walked along.
With a faint smell of garlic in the air as I crushed the vegetation making my way the the bank side I saw a rise. Flicking the Hawthorn imitation in as best I could between the over hanging branches I got a fish rise to it straight away, but the fish turned away at last minute. As I repositioned myself on the bank it had another look, this time resulting in a splashy rise, as if trying to sink it. Another cast resulted in a similar train of events This also occurred when a natural fell on the water. After this there was no more rises in the area so I moved on. Over the next half hour I witnessed this behaviour several times. I know the trout in here are generally small at around 6", but a Hawthorn fly is not a massive insect and well within their capabilities.
Further round while wading in about 8" of water looked down to see a very small pike holding station along side my foot, disappearing as I reached for my camera.
After this I didn't see any fish rising for quire awhile and was considering a change to nymph when I arrived at one of the large pools to see several fish rising. The Hawthorn was again treat with contempt and as I couldn't see what they were rising to, I put on a small DHE. First cast and I was into one of the typical little 6' WBT. With fish still rising I unhooked it and cast again. Another, slightly darker WBT of the same size, another quickly followed before. The next fish very quickly shed the hook. Looking round the rises had stopped a few speculative casts produced nothing. I sat and had a drink and waited to see if anything would rise again, but there was nothing.
I continued upstream, but a nasty breeze had sprung up. The occasional Hawthorn fell on the water, but nothing seemed to want to eat them. With nothing much happening I set off back to the car dropping a gold-head PTN into the occasional deeper run around the tree roots, which only resulted in the occasional need to un-snag the nymph. Despite the fact that small trout are supposed to be greedy little fish they can be very fussy and frustrating at times.
It was only when I got home and upload the photos from my phone did I realise that, in my excitement I'd failed to take any pictures
of the fish.
