Spitting Feathers

After last Sunday's insect no show it was nice to see various beasties fluttering about the river when I arrived at the bottom of the most upstream of the club's waters. A size 16 Foam Dun looked to be about he same size as the insect life. This looked like a really good selection when it was taken immediately it hit the water near a rise. With great skill I managed to yank it from the fishes mouth, a skill I managed to repeat several more times as I wandered upstream. Dropping to a size 18 failed to increase the hook up rate.














The trout in the Esk average about 5-6", but appear to be quite greedy, so my abysmal hook up rate seemed a bit odd. Over the net hour I tried several different flies from 14 to 18, but nothing appeared to help. In fact the good old Grey Duster Hardly seemed to attract fish at all. A change back to he Foam Dun in 16 produced nice little rise and a hooked fish, which proceeded to spend more time in the air than the water before spitting the fly out. Annoyingly it was a good deal bigger than average a well.

Somewhat frustrated I sat down for a spot of lunch, over looking the pool I’d lost the fish in. By the time I'd finished lunch a couple of fish were rising again. I put on the only Foam Dun I'd not crushed the barb on when tying it. First cast and I'd hooked another, somewhat smaller, fish. Yes you've guessed it, it spat the fly out just as I grabbed the leader. Buoyed up at having contacted with a couple of fish I continued upstream. I managed to raise at least a dozen more, but failed to hook any at all.

Having reached the top end I wandered back to the car somewhat dejected. Halfway back I met an angler fishing worm, who was having a similar hard time, plenty of bites, but not contacting with any thing. Back at the car I met another angler who had been fishing another club's water downstream. He'd managed half a dozen on a small Grey Duster, a fly the trout seemed to be ignoring upstream.

After the previous couple of trips here it looks like my 'beginners luck' has run out. There again I'm still learning the water. I'm, also still unsure about he most suitable rod for here. The two I've used so far were #4 in 7' and 8'. The seven footer struggles to roll cast well and the eight foot seems a bit long. Still plenty of time left in the season to start to get to grips with the place.

Insects Take Bank Holiday Off Too

Easter Monday saw me, fly rod in hand, wandering the banks of the Esk again. What surprised me as I walked to the down stream end of the section was the complete lack of fly life and rising fish. Unlike my previous visit, which was cold and windy, there was very little wind and reasonable temperatures so I expected more fish to be rising. 

Once at the down stream end I decided to go with a small gold head PTN, as I'd just raised a pheasant, and to try out my new mono furled leader. It was a little while before I was into my first, small, trout. The furled leader worked well in the tight confines, turning the nymph over nicely. A couple more little'uns were taken, and a couple flip off the hook before everything went quiet.

As sat with a drink, pondering a change of fly, a hare bolted out of the hedge back and into the long grass. Gold head GRHE it was then. This resulted in a couple more before arriving back at the car. I had expected better with the day been reasonably warm, but the bright sunshine may not have help.

While having a bite to eat I had the pleasure of been battered by hailstones for a couple of minutes as the sky clouded over. Having had something to eat, I set of upstream and soon spotted a fish rising. Changing to a Grey Duster, which was taken the moment it hit the water. Which produced my first parr of the day. A couple more little trout followed before every thing went quiet as the wind got up. Despite wandering quite a distance I saw nothing more rising. So I called it a day.

With the rest of April looking a bit chilly I'm not sure if things are are going to get any better. I'm sure there must be something a bit bigger in there somewhere. After only two trips though I can't really complain.

Salmon Fishing?

Sunday saw me making my way to the Esk, a river I hadn't fished for decades, for my third attempt at catching a WBT this season. My first attempt was on a river that was still a bit high and the second, on a small beck, resulted in one fish hooked and lost when the rod tip got tangled in the branches of a Hawthorn.

With no sign of fish moving I decide to fish a couple of spiders upstream. After an hour I'd seen no sign of fish so started heading back to the car when I spotted a splashy rise in the middle of a glide. I little tug moments after the flies hit the water resulted in a salmon parr. Another cast in the same area produced a second. As I continued my wander back to the car I picked up three more salmon parr. No sign of any trout though.

I moved to a another section of the river hoping for more trout and less parr. Here I soon spotted a trout nosing catkins about in a small eddy. I cast a Grey Duster dry fly at it a couple of times before another little parr snatched the fly. By now the wind had changed direction and got stronger, making accurate casting a bit awkward. A bit further along  a couple of small fish were rising, to something. Covering them with the Grey Duster resulted in nothing, but a change to a John Storey ssaw me land my first WBT of the season. Several more, all rather small, followed. By now the strengthening wind was making cast hard work as it swirled around the high banks. It was getting cold as well, with less and less fish rising.

I had a short wander along a third section with only the occasional cast finally managing a double figures in WBT. Eleven WBT and seventeen parr seemed like quite a good day to me, even if they were all rather small.

Final Day

Why I fish the final day of the river season I don't know, It never really amount s to anything.

Using the same tactics as yesterday, roaming with cheese paste I tried further down the same stretch. After trying a couple of swims I was getting a few knocks in the third and latched onto a cheeky dace that had managed to get a size 6 hook in it's mouth. I tried a bit longer in this swim than scheduled before a small jack grabbed to hook as I was winding in and bit through as I drew it to the net. I think it was the orange bead that I'd hair rigged, to give the paste something extra to grip to, that had attracted it.

A few swims later and another little jack grab the cage feeder before coming adrift. By now the wind had got up and was blowing straight upstream, making bite indication a tad awkward. A couple more swims failed to produce. In the next I got a slow steady pull which resulted in I rather hollow 1¾lb chub, which put up no resistance at all, but seamed to swim off strongly enough. A few swims further on I pulled out of what seemed to be a good fish. Inspecting to hook showed no obvious problems, but I swapped it even so. Only for the same thing to happen in the very next swim. Over last few swims the only attention I got was another jack taking a lunge at the feeder as I lifted it from the water.

Not the worst day's fishing I've had, so that's it from the rivers until the 16th, or the 25th of March if I decide to do a bit of trout fishing.

Penultimate Day of the River Season

With the river season for coarse fish about to close and the rivers not looking too bad, I thought I'd use up a couple of my remaining holidays and have a go chucking cheese paste about.

Yesterday when I passed over the river it was a bit high but not too coloured. Today the colour had returned. Still I carried on with Plan A, roaming with one rod and a lump of cheese paste. It was well into the afternoon when the first bite materialised and what felt like a heavy but sluggish fish was contacted with. Eventually a chub of around 2½lb surfaced, along with a branch snagged in the feeder. Another, almost identical, chub turned up an hour later and several swims later.





























Not the monsters I was hopping for, but at least it wasn't a blank. We'll see what the final day, tomorrow, brings.

Taking Something's Dinner

For various reasons, like work parties, I've not managed much fishing this years and what little I have done has resulted in rather boring blanks. I wasn't full of confidence on Sunday when I arrived, rather late, at the syndicate water on Sunday, despite a couple of twenties being reported.

Having selected my swim I dropped half a float fished herring under the tree to my right. A small float fished smelt under the trees to my left and a popped up bluey in the tree in front of me. A gentle pull saw it land in the water just where I wanted it. After a few minutes the alarm sounded and the drop off bobbed up and down. I wound down into nothing. The bait showed no sign of damage. I managed to cast it back with out assistance from the tree this time.

The float to my right then bobbed up and down, and again I contacted with nothing, although there was sins of damage to the bait. I dropped it back under the tree. A little while later I went through the same procedure with the same rods. Half an hour later the float over the half herring bobbed  about before moving off. A small jack was quickly landed with noticeable scar on it and damage to the jaw as if some thing had attempted to have it for dinner.

 















A while later the popped up joey moved off and this time I latched on to a feisty jack around 6lb. Whether these were the fish that I'd missed earlier I don't know. Soon after this the rain set in for the day. Despite moving the baits about I didn't get another bite.

First of the Year

For various reasons I've only had a couple of trips out this year, both of which were blanks.

Saturday I decided a spot of trotting for grayling was in order, as the river was looking good, according to a friend who'd passed over it in the morning. After purchasing a pint of maggots, I readied the tackle for Sunday. After a bit of dithering I decided 10 ⅔ feet of cane was the way to go. I picked out a few grayling bobs and other bits and pieces. My intention was to fish short runs in the traditional manner. Tossing the float upstream and lifting the rod as it came towards me then dropping it as it goes past. These runs were the ones I'd been fishing Czech nymph style previously.

Foolishly I didn't check the river levels before I set off and found the river 0.5m up and rising. Still I decided to give it a go and after an hour was rewarded with my first fish of the year. A small WBT! This was to be the only fish of the day, despite wandering a couple of miles along the river. Near the top of the length rod rod started to feel a bit odd. The bottom ferrule had started to come loose from the cane. I seem to remember I was supposed to do something about this after the last time I used it. Not wishing to damage the rod I decided to give up and go home, arriving at the car as it started to drizzle, so it seemed like a good decision.