Jorvik Angler: First Trout to Dry Fly

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.