The Ginger and Red Spinners described have only by degrees worked their way into the inner circle of the writers’ flies. Experience has proved their usefulness, for they will often be taken when all else fails. These dry patterns have killed fish under particularly difficult and hopeless conditions; and their use is recommended with the greatest confidence.
Such then is a brief outline of the occasions on which the dry fly has been found to be of most use to the North Countryman; but no hard and fast rules can be made, for the angler’s discernment must play the greater part in regulating his actions, and the foregoing hints are merely given as some small guide to the beginner. But let all who try the dry fly beware of drag; it will ruin the chances of the most artistic cast.
Anyone with designs on dry-fly fishing on Northern streams may well confine himself to a few of Mr. Halford’s patterns, say the Olive Dun, Dark Olive Dun, Iron Blue Dun, and Black Gnat, with the addition of the Ginger and Red Spinners, Nos. 35 and 36, the Red Quill, and the Silver Sedge, and a fancy pattern or two, such as the Coachman and Pink Wickham, for use on occasions described above.
A great debt of gratitude is due to those who introduced the dry fly and developed its use so whole-heartedly, for there is a charm about dry-fly fishing which is distinctive, and a fascination that almost defies description in watching a neatly cocked artificial fly approach the rings made by a rising trout. A moment of suspense, intense excitement, followed by joy supreme when a timely strike is rewarded by a tightened line. So, apart from its being an asset in the filling of the creel, the dry fly increases the pleasures of the gentle craft to a very great extent, a craft as unique in its scope and variety as it is intriguing in its difficulties. The whole setting of the craft enhances its enchantment and give it a hold upon its followers, powerful as that of friendship, converting them into ardent devotees for life. Whether one follows its calling in the flower-starred water meadows of the South, or explores the rivers of the “stone-ribbed North,” the peace and beauty of the surroundings, far from the noisy crowd, add a charm which every good fisherman knows how to be thankful for.
Broken Water
Photo by Mr F. Creedy
How pleasant is the time of the after-luncheon pipe, with the dipper curtseying from the stones in mid-stream. May be the desolate call of the curlew floats down from the fells, and the grey dale village, with its quaint architecture, speaks of times long past, of times when the Borderers filed down the valley, perhaps to fall upon a party of Monks from the rich Abbey of Fountains. Imagination suggests to the ear the savage shout of exultation of the assailants and the screams of the stricken, when a widening circle in the stream brings one back to present day realities in a second.
Such is a part of the angler’s day, which, lingering in the mind, inspires him through the long wintry months to look forward to the time when God’s earth shall be fresh and green again, and the wild thyme be fragrant on the banks of many a North Country stream.
Great men and small alike are held by the wonderful fascination of the sport, which gives such joy, affords such relaxation to the mind, and is so free from all taint of brutality. And though the actual angling requires the utmost concentration of mind and thought, yet after all, it has truly been described as “The Contemplative Man’s Recreation.”