As I wandered along a new stretch of river that looked like it should be stuffed with trout the lack of insect life was startling. With others talking abut clouds of grannom, aphids and beetles falling out of trees and covering the water and even mayfly fluttering about, it made the place look even more desolate. I decided to have a look at he backside trees and maybe give them a shake to see if anything fell out. A bit of natural groundbaiting. There was nothing, apart from a few dead leafs. As I clambered back over the flood debris I managed to disturb a wasp's nest. Two stings and fifty yards later I stopped for a drink and watched the water. Round the corner was the bottom of the beat. I'd been wandering down for over an hour and didn't originally intend to get this far, but I'd seen no fish rising.
As I reached the sign making the bottom of the beat I noticed a couple of fish rising, but to what. All that was about were little smuts fluttering about., but the fish didn't appear to be taking them. I put on a size eighteen plume fly, which was steadfastly ignored. I put on a smaller one, then an even smaller one. All of which were ignored as the two fish, about twelve inch or so, swam about feeding on something. The smallest fly I currently carry is a size twenty four IOBO, this was also ignored. I was surprised my constant casting hadn't spooked them. As I sat on the top of the bank watching them feeding on something on or near the surface the wind steadily picked up. The smuts disappeared as did the two trout.
Further on I clearly got too close to a dipper's nest, as it was flying round me making a right racket. The next bird I disturbed was a heron, which completely failed to leave any feathers behind. I'm down to my last two. Things then started to look up. First a couple of uprights fluttered past. Then the mayfly appeared... all three of them, struggling in the stiff breeze. I nearly ducked as they headed towards me before hey were caught by a gust an wafted over the bank side trees. Further on a genuine hatch was occurring. Loads of caddis flitting about and not a fish rising anywhere. I sat and waited, tying on an appropriate imitation, which wasn't appropriate enough as it was completely ignored. Eventually the penny dropped, they weren't taking the fly insects. A DHE was then tied on. This result in three takes, one of which i connected with before it came adrift. By now most of the insects had rifted away and the rises slowed, eventually petered out.
In an attempt to avoid a blank I chucked a team of three into some of the riffles as I wandered back to the car, but this didn't achieve the desired effect either. Near the car I had a brief natter with a chap worming. His success rate wasn't much better either. I then noticed his other rod, set up with a small controller float and a deer hare sedge. He too had seen caddis about and as a shoulder injury prevented him for wielding a fly rod was using this method instead. With out success mind you. He had had a couple of fish earlier in the week using this tactic and missed a lot more. He also confirmed it ha been a pretty slow year for most insect life, apart from the caddis and two mayfly was probably the most I'd see at any one time.
Nothing was rising, nor was the any sign of insect life when got to the river. As I'd been late arriving I sat and had a cuppa and sandwich while watching the river for a while. I'd just about made up my mind to fish a team of three when I spotted a small flotilla of uprights drift under the trees on the far bank. While nothing was rising to them I thought it might be worth having another wander as I really wanted to fish dry fly. Around the corner I spotted a rise and as I got closer I could see a decent trout in the shallows. The first cast fell short, but the second was nearly perfect. The fish headed straight towards my fly, passing underneath it before rising to a spent willow catkin. I tried several different sized foam duns, but all it seemed to rise to were spent willow catkins and other flotsam. I picked a couple out of the river, but couldn't see what the fascination was. Having seen this before I'd always suspected there to be aphids or something on them, but I'd never seen anything when I'd inspected them. The trout just seem to enjoy nosing them about.
Just as I decided to leave it alone for a while it was spooked by a moorhen shooting out of the undergrowth. The next fish I found rising took a fancy to a olive emerger the moment it hit the water. A nice fish of 14" soon graced the net. It was now I discovered I didn't have my phone. Having released it I popped back to the car to find my phone and keys on the parcel shelf, on display to the world for the best part of an hour and a half. Oops. As I got back to the river I came across another angler who said that there had been quite a decent hatch between half ten and half eleven, before I'd arrived. He'd managed a couple of nine inch fish, but had had a hell of a time hitting the takes. These he has hooked seemed fall of with remarkable ease. As I'd had days like that, I had a lot of sympathy for him. As he was on the afternoon shift he was about to leave, but showed me where the hatches had taken place. At one spot fish were still rising. From the top of the bank we could see why he'd had problems hitting the takes. There was a huge shoal of six inch dace rising to everything and often missing. Another phenomenon I'd suffered.
Where the path went back to his car a couple of trout were rising to little black beasties. A size eighteen IOBO produced a take which quickly came adrift. Then another that stayed on a little bit longer. I changed to a size 14 knotted midge, but couldn't get the next take to stick to that either. The next fish was a different matter altogether. Clearly something quite large. It turned out to be a rather scruffy chub around three to four pound. I fished on for another half hour with out any luck. By now the wind had got up and dark clouds were appearing on the horizon. As I got near the car it started to spit a bit. By the time I'd crossed the road it had stopped.
We really need some rain as the rivers are looking a bit thin already. At this time of year they really shouldn't be. My guess is, it's going to chuck it down second week of June. Flooding the rivers for the start of the coarse season. The lack of insect life is also worrying. Whether this is due to last years drought or part of the general decline of insect life it isn't good.
Following the rain the rivers started to rise midweek, although they started to drop Thursday I didn't fancy trailing any distance to find them badly coloured up, so opt for a nosy at a local beck. If that didn't look good I'd head to the canal for another go for perch on the fly. Much to my surprise there was only a tinge of colour in the beck despite it been up a couple of inches. I'd had a look at it a couple of times, on my way to other venues, and it never really looked inviting. Today, though, it didn't look anything like as desolate as it had.
As I wandered down to the bottom of the stretch I heard my first cuckoo of the year, between the horrible screech of a pheasant. Pheasants are definitely a bird that should be seen and not heard. Under a hawthorn I saw my first bit of insect life. A hawthorn fly was been inspected by a couple of small trout. They must have popped up to have an inspect of it three or four times each, but neither took it. I've seen this many many times on this beck, if there's only the odd one or two on the water the trout won't touch them. There needs to be quite a fall before they get the confidence to feed on them. Further on a few uprights were sailing down unmolested.
Near the bottom of the stretch a trout was rising to the odd upright that sailed past, so on went a #16 foam dun. This was inspected every time it passed the fish, but never taken. I changed to a #14 with the same effect. I then tried a similar sized grey duster, which was treat with similar contempt. Don't ever let anybody tell you little beck trout are stupid and will grab anything. They can be as fickle as as the finest chalk stream specimen. It continued to rise as I stared at the fly box. As there seemed to be the odd little black beastie fluttering about I put on a knotted midge. A woefully mistimed cast saw the line land with all the subtly of a brick. The leader landed in coils, with the fly in the middle. Amazingly the fish shot up and grabbed the fly. Hauling line and heaving the rod back I made contact. I then realised my next problem. I was four foot above an unknown depth of water on a sheer bank between two over hanging trees. My little net wasn't going to reach. Inevitably as I grabbed the leader to haul it up the bank it shed the hook, but as I'd touched the leader it counts. My first trout of the season on dry fly.
As I wandered round the corner I found the next nice pool had a fallen tree it. While this may offer protection to the fish it has spoilt a good pool. Later in the day I found another pool had a fallen tree in it as well. These two pools were two of the most reliable. I did try shifting one of the trees, but it looks like a two or three man job. Further up another fallen tree and pile of debris on a previously barren straight was now home to a large number of fry. This is the sort of fallen tree I don't mind.
I arrived at the hawthorn trees where I'd seen the two trout inspecting the hawthorn flies. One fish was still there, so I chucked the knotted midge at it. The fish rose as the fly approached before dropping away. As I was about to recast the second fish appeared from under the bank and grabbed the fly. This time I was in the water and no mistakes were made and a rather pretty little fish was landed and quickly photoed. These were to be the last fish I saw. By now a cold breeze had got up. It had taken three hours to get two fish on dry fly. Although total time a fly was on the water was probably half an hour. The rest was spent just watching and waiting, or balsam bashing.
If the weather could just find it's way to being a tad warmer I'm sure this trout fishing lark would be easier.
After a trip to a Dales river yesterday it was up to The Moors today. The weather forecast was not good. We were back to a northerly wind, so two fleeces were loaded into the car. The drizzle nearly all the way there didn't heighten my optimism. As expected the wind and rain had knocked petals and catkins from the trees, so there was quite a bit of debris floating down. I started with a gold head nymph on the point with a pearly bloa above and a black magic on the top dropper. Apart from foul hooking a little fry, that produced nothing.
While distracted by a Lapwing doing that injured wing distraction display they do, the rod was nearly pulled from my hand, but no contact was made. A recast to the same area produced a similar sharp tug with out any contact. After three or four more tugs like this I had a little trout to hand, taken on the black magic. In all this time the only rises I'd seen were fish nudging petals or catkins about. Casting to the rise never produced anything. I wondered whether I should have a white fly in my box for these occasions.
A bit further on I bump into another angler who'd managed one fish on a small butcher, having seen a fish casing some fry. As he said, we're into May now there should be flies hatching, but he hadn't seen any at all. He had similar problems to me on ha last three outings. Fish seeming to hit the flies hard, but making no contact. We wished each other luck and headed back they way we'd come.
I'd decided to pack in early, but as I headed back to the car I spotted a few rises in a pool. After cutting the gold head off I cast the two remain flies to a rise and contacted with a better fish a second cast produced a similar fish before bumping the next one off. The sun then disappeared again and the rises stopped. Further on I saw something I'd never seen before, a Kingfisher on the ground. I approached it slowing thinking it was injured. Clearly it wasn't as it took off and shot past me, upstream. Don't know why it was on the ground, I've only seen them land on branches or fence posts.
My final encounter with nature was half a dozen little bunnies. I managed to get quite close to them before they jumped down one of several holes each was close to.
Today I wasn't expecting much as I was visiting a fishery I hadn't fished for years. Mainly thought of a a coarse fishery it does contain a fair few trout. Where I'd parked the car, by a hawthorn hedge, with plenty Hawthorn flies fluttering about I was hopeful. After a bit of a wander I decided to wave the fly rod about. I'd not seen many rises, or hatches, so opted for a the team of three - Partridge & Orange, Snipe & Purple and the Waterhen Bloa.
After a few casts into a nice riffle I was into a fish which quickly came adrift. Not long after I lost another casting to a rising fish above the riffle. I checked the hooks again, but nothing seemed amiss. I tried various spots and a few random cast for the next hour with no luck before spotting a couple of rises near a bend up ahead, beyond a rather featureless stretch. When I got within casting distance the rises stopped. I sat and had a cuppa while watching the water. I had a couple of casts into the general area despite seeing nothing, to no avail. Further up I came across a couple of large perch which I managed to spook as I stumbled over a large rock. Glad I was using my wading staff as I could of ended up rather wet.
After a short down pour Fish started to rise to little black beasties. I changed to a size eighteen Griffiths Gnat, which was shunned. Next up was a size twenty IOBO, again shunned. A black plume fly was also shunned. I changed back to spiders, a size sixteen Williams Favourite on point, a similar sized Little Black and a size eighteen Black Magic on the top dropper. After a few casts I got a take and soon had a fish of around nine inches in the net. Fumbling about with my phone I managed to spill both the fish and the phone. Good job it's a waterproof phone and the current wasn't too fast where I was stood.
By now the wind had got up, the rain was starting to get heavy and the rises had stopped. Time to retreat to the car as I'd left my waterproof at home. I'll be back, but not for another week or so. Hopefully the weather will be a bit kinder then, though given the latest forecast I'm not holding my breath.
