It was with genuine sadness that i left the house this morning having taken the day off work to say goodbye to the Clyde trouts for the season.
Its been my best season ever on the river and i have fished more than is good for a stable marriage, career or parenthood.
I fished a still water once for wee brownies but pulling wet flies has really lost its appeal for some reason, maybe its the repetitiveness of it.
Running water seems to hold much more appeal, a magical quality, some thing closer to how it should be, its some how more romantic, more wild and more well....peacefull.
I have been on a self imposed dry fly only rule, not out of any bizarre ethical stance or harping back to the old days, simply i wanted to become a better fisherman and without sounding like a management book i wanted to come out my "comfort zone". Fishing nymphs or swinging wet flies catch fish and can catch fish when nothing is rising but it was no longer the challenge it once was. Before this season it would have been one of my lines of attack not the principle one and the thought of putting on a dry fly without anything rising would have been daft or a waste of fishing time.Its not. Dont get me wrong i have HAD to use the odd nymph under a dry just to eek them out and even tried streamer fishing
on two occasions
but that was more out of curiosity than anything.
I guess the lesson learned was dry fly fishing means for some reason you connect with bigger trout, dont ask me why and if i did not witness it myself this season i simply would not have believed it.
So today in the pissing rain and blowing gale i tied on a wee size 18 f fly and set to work fighting against the wind. I wanted it to be perfect, it wasn't or maybe it was, i still have not made my mind up on that one.
It was 6# weather but as it had to be perfect i had my favorite rod (a 4#) together with my favorite sandwiches and a full pack of Marlboro lights.
I must have walked about a mile before i saw something rise.
The weather was simply ****; but there he was sipping away at wee blue winged olives. Several drifts later and i managed to bank the 6 inch monster.
I was another hour before i saw another riser and this time i got him first time having watched him from the bank for 20 minutes.Nothing large maybe 1/2-3/4 of a pound but enough to bend my rod. Small but perfectly formed, i dare not tell you how much that wee trout meant to me.
I then plodded up and down the river bank but saw nothing move, i searched the water, i was in and out of my fly box like a thieving Welshman (thanks river king) i had no option but to stick a nymph on under the dry and get down to them, Hay presto hello Mr Grayling . Just as i was about to pack up i came across a shoal of unseen grayling. Landed three and lost two all in about the space of 15 minutes.
And with that i packed up.
I hope you all had half the season i had.
Where are my neoprenes?
Mark
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The last trout trip of the season
Love your ducks bum.
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