Brook and river trouting / A manual of modern north country methods, with coloured illustrations of flies and fly-dressing materials

by Harfield H. Edmonds; Norman N. Lee

A long deep pool (or dub, as it is called on the Eden) breaks away in a short characterless rapid, narrowing towards the tail and then rushing under willow trees which hang right out over the river from the right bank. The strong stream has dug out a deep channel under these willows, while the left or near bank is a bed of fine gravel gradually sloping into the deeper water at the far side. This deep channel holds many good fish, but they are quite unassailable so long as they remain well under the willows.

Now for the incident. The day was blazing hot, the month July, and the river low and clear when the writer in question first essayed to fish it with the worm. Entering the water at the tail of the stream, he waded out as near as possible to the willows, which, as described, were on his left. Casting straight up in front of him he cherished the idea that the stream would carry the worm under the willows to the place where, it was hoped, the best fish would lie feeding. So far, so good. In this manner he worked to the top of the stream without a touch, when a final throw was made, pitching the worm into the water just where it rushed hardest under the willows.

Almost before the worm touched the water, the dark form of a large fish, some three or four pounds in weight, shot from the shallows on his right, to his holt in the deeps under the willows. This fish had been lying in the very thin water at the tail end of the rapids, no doubt seizing every morsel that came within reach, but ever ready to dart into his stronghold on the least sign of danger.

On the two following days the same thing happened, when it occurred to that youthful angler that his approach had been all wrong, and that if he had worked the thin water first, leaving the deeper channel until the last, success might have attended his efforts. But reflection had come too late; he had to leave, and he never saw the fish again.

There is another moral to the incident; although a deep inaccessible pool may be the stronghold of the largest trout, they will, during the hot summer months, frequently come to the thin edges of the stream to feed.

Another personal experience will perhaps serve to illustrate other possibilities. Towards the end of June, after seven weeks’ drought, the writers went to the upper reaches of a North Country river, where, thanks to the generosity of the proprietor, they were permitted to have a few days’ fishing. Owing to the long spell of dry weather the river, which at the best of times is there little better than a good sized beck, had shrunk to a mere trickle with deep pools here and there. The whole bed of the river was thickly coated with a green slimy growth.

Local opinion had it that fishing was waste of time until a good flood came to clean the bed of the river. Enthusiasm prevailed, however, as it was the first opportunity one of the party had of fishing this stretch, and the chance was not one to be missed, even though the prospects held out no great hope of success.

Up to about noon on the first day he who was strange to the water had never a fish to show for his efforts, although the trout were there and plentiful.

What with the oppressive heat and persistent failure, much of the keenness of early morning had worn off, and it was with a feeling akin to relief that the angler unslung his creel and threw himself on to the bank where he might enjoy a cigarette under the cool shade of the trees.