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

As the wreaths of smoke curled upwards, the unsuccessful one, with his back propped against the trunk of a tree, began to survey the stretch of river above him. Both banks were bordered by trees and clumps of willows for a distance of some two hundred yards. The water was nowhere more than two feet deep and so slight was the current that it was almost imperceptible. Not a ripple broke the surface of the stretch from end to end. It was like the proverbial “sheet of glass,” and, had it but been able to reflect the expression on the angler’s face, nothing but disappointment would have been revealed.

At length he jumped up with the intention of exploring the higher regions of the river and as he did so several fish, scared at his proximity, darted from the edge. Those trout decided the course of action, and, although the reach was to all appearances hopeless, the angler determined to try for some of the fish that were lying at the very edges, apparently basking in the sun.

Wading a stretch of water such as this, was most difficult, necessitating the utmost caution and slow approach, if the tell-tale wave were to be avoided. For obvious reasons it was essential that the angler should keep as close in to the willows on his side of the river as possible, and cast as long a line as he could control. Every time the worm was allowed to sink to the bottom, it was fouled with the vegetable growth on the stones. This happened almost every cast, and just as the angler was beginning to think that nobody but a fool would ever try to fish such a place, he came within casting distance of a narrow opening between the willows. Throwing carefully round the trees, the worm was landed within a few inches of the bank. There was a wave such as a trout makes when darting from the edge, and for the fraction of a second he thought that the slight disturbance caused by the worm dropping into the water had scared the fish. But no! the line quivered, then moved slightly, and, in response to a well-timed strike, the rod bent to the fight of a good half-pounder, which gave that thrill of satisfaction which is only felt when a difficult situation has been overcome.

That stretch of water yielded, within an hour or so, eight fish, which later proved to be above the average size for that part of the river.

The experience has been of the greatest value. Many times since then, when fish would not take well in the stream, has a blank been saved by attacking a stretch of water of this nature in this way. One thing leads to another, and perhaps a further use to which the knowledge gained on that occasion has been put is worth recording.

In common with many others, who can only go a-fishing at such times as business permits, the writers frequently wield the rod on most unpropitious days. Even in July they sometimes find on reaching the river that half a gale of wind is blowing dead down stream. An hour’s battling against the elements, trying in vain to get the worm well up in front, is as a rule enough for anyone. Even if the worm lands occasionally where it is wanted, the wind will catch the line and cause a most unnatural drag, and ruin all chance of enticing a fish.

Those were the prevailing conditions on the first opportunity that offered of making use of the experience just narrated.

Leaving an ideal stream, which on this particular day was absolutely unsheltered from a strong downstream wind, the writers walked upstream, but had not gone far when one of them noticed, in contrast with the wind-beaten surface of the water, an unruffled place between two large trees which overhung the bank. The water here was wadable, the current almost non-existent, and within the shelter of the trees it was not difficult to make a neat cast. The worm had scarcely touched the water when, from under the cover of the overhanging boughs, came a nice plump well-fed fish, and in full view of the angler appropriated the worm in the most unsuspicious manner. Enough, the angler walked on trying behind every bush, whether the river at that particular place was streamy or otherwise; and since then, the writers have often had the laugh of a heavy downstream wind.

Now by the foregoing it is not desired to suggest, that it is wise, whenever an almost streamless stretch of water is reached, to fish it, as the process is slow and takes up much time, which might probably be used to better advantage in the streams and thin water; but, as a stand-by, when conditions are against the angler and the trout not keen, it is always well to try such places.

Another favourite feeding ground, where innumerable trout always congregate, is the very tail end of a pool, just before it breaks away into the stream below. The water in such a place forms a glassy glide, in fishing which the novice will find his path to success beset with difficulties, particularly if the banks of the river afford no cover. The greatest circumspection in approach, and more than ordinary delicacy in casting, are two essentials which will go far towards the mastery of this situation; but there is again the difficulty of an unnatural drag to be overcome. To obviate this trouble entirely in such a place, is almost impossible, but much may be done to attain the desired end by fishing with a short line and letting as little of it touch the water as possible. Reaches of this character, however, will always fish best when the angler has the wind behind him, and under those conditions should never be neglected, as among the trout which haunt such places will frequently be found the largest that the river produces.