Trout Flies of Devon and Cornwall, and When and How to Use Them

by G. W. Soltau

As a general rule, I am in favour of fishing up the stream for trout; the heads of the fish being always against the current, their eyes are pointed in the same direction, looking for flies, &c., which may be floating down on the surface; your approach therefore is not so readily perceived, and your fly when taken is pulled against the jaw, and not from it as is often the case when fishing down the stream. The casting the fly well and lightly is a knack which can only be acquired by experience. The spring of the rod should do the chief work, and not the labour of your arms. To effect this, you should lay the stress as near the hand as possible, and make the wood undulate from that point, which is done by keeping the elbow in advance, and doing something with the wrist which is not very easy to explain. Thus, the exertion should be chiefly from the elbow and wrist, and not from the shoulders.

A little practice will enable you to determine the length of line required to reach a given spot: until this knowledge is acquired, rather throw too short than too long a line. In the latter case, it will bag in the water and scare the fish, or if per chance one rises, it will most probably escape, before you have power to strike.

The stream fly should fall lightly on the desired spot, and the line, being just of sufficient length to allow of the exact point being reached, the bob fly will rest on the surface of the water, and by imparting to the rod a slight tremulous motion, from right to left, the stream fly will appear to be struggling in the stream, whilst the bob will occasionally bob up and down, (from which circumstance its name is derived) exhibiting the movement of the natural fly, when it alights, rises, and again alights.

After some experience, the eye will apprize you when the fish rises to seize the hook; you are doubly prepared to strike, if your line is on the stretch, in which case, you feel, as well as see your prey.

Striking, signifies a sudden jerk of the rod, at the instant the fish has taken the hook, and forms a very important feature in the art of fishing. If the jerk is too violent, the hook will probably be torn from its hold, or if it be too slight, the hook will not enter the jaw, and the fish escapes. The happy medium must be aimed at, remembering that our small fish require gentler treatment, than those of greater weight, whose capacious mouths afford a firmer hold, and may be treated with less ceremony.

Commence by throwing the fly across the tail of the stickle, thus:—A. is the fisherman, B. B. the banks of the river, C. the tail of the stickle, D. its commencement. A. first throws his fly across to E. then draws it with a kind of tremulous motion to F. then to G. and back to H. A. then moves on, and takes up his position at J. casts over to K. and across to L. tries again at M. and hooks a fish. If it is small, as too many of our West Country fish happen to be, it may be raised instanter, gently out of the water, and deposited in the basket. A. then advances a few paces, and finishes the pool between M. and D.

If by good luck a large fish is hooked, don’t attempt to jerk him out of the water, which frequently snaps the gut or tears the hook from its hold; but to use a technical term, “play him,” that is, let him swim about with your fly well embodied in his jaw, until he is sufficiently exhausted to enable you to take him out, either by lifting him over the bank, by taking the casting line in your hand, or by drawing him upon the sand or gravel. Whilst the fish is engaged in endeavouring to rid itself of the disagreeable customer in its mouth, be careful to maintain a steady, uniform strain, upon the line; don’t jerk at one time and slack at another. If the fish is unusually large, the butt of your rod must be held forward, which throws the point back; and thus the line presses against the entire length of the rod, and offers greater opposition to the fish than if the top were kept down and the butt up. The following hints, from the pen of an experienced fisherman, are deserving special notice.

“If your fish misses the fly in making his offer, wait awhile before you throw a second time, and if he rises at all, he will come more greedily for this delay. When he returns to his seat, after the unsuccessful sortie, he will say mentally, ‘What a donkey I was to be so awkward! By St. Antonio, if he comes again, I’ll smash him!’ But if you keep lashing away at him immediately, he will probably treat you with contempt, and will have no intercourse with your gay deluders for the rest of the day. It is some time, perhaps, since he has taken up his seat in the water, without ever having seen an animal like that which you are so obliging as to tender him; all of a sudden come a swarm of locusts, as it were, one after another over his nob, which astonish and alarm him exceedingly. Thus, it is apparent that you do not do justice to his sagacity, or instinct, or whatever you please to call it, if you set to work in such an intrusive manner.”