Life’s A Bitch At Times

It was one of those days made for angling, over cast warm and muggy with a light wind. As we made our way across the riverside meadow I turned to Mick Holgate and said “It’s a roach fisher’s day” Though it wasn’t roach we had come to seek but the brown trout with a fly rod. Mick chose to fish with nine foot 6 weight rod, floating line with a tapered leader of nine feet with a 3lb tippet. I chose an eight foot five weight Thomas and Thomas glass fibre rod and floating line to which I attached a tapered leader of twelve feet, with an additional two feet of 2lb fluorocarbon tippet.

As we walked downstream a few trout could be seen taking emergers, at the bottom of the meadow we forded a stream then followed a small twisting track down through the wood. Oaks, beeches, horse chestnut, sycamore, alders and willows looked resplendent in their new cloaks of green. As the trees gave way to a small riverside field I suggested to Mick that he should fish the ‘Big Apple Pool’ on account of the large apple tree close to the waters edge.

I continued downstream to fish a twenty yard long stretch of water where trout would be alongside or under the swaying water crowfoot. Ready to move sideways to grab a nymph, or up to the surface for an emerger or fly on the surface. As I intently scanned the water surface through my binoculars, I spotted a slight movement halfway up the gravel weedy run, every minute or so I would see another slight bulge on the surface. “That’s a fish I murmured to myself” Fifteen minutes later I tied on a size 16 Greenwell’s. I spent ten minutes or so watching the fish as it continued to feed. Time to catch the culprit I thought, as I slowly moved out into the waist high gin clear fast swirling water, feeling pushing against my chest highs.

Once in position I pulled off a few yards of line allowing the fly to drift downstream. I reckon I needed forty feet to reach the fish. I pulled off fifty. Making a roll cast I then made a back cast followed by a forward cast this time dropping the line two feet to the left of the fish with the leader several feet upstream and to the right. It was a good drift. Suddenly the fly was gone in the tiniest of dimples. I connected with a nice fish, after some tugging on the line, I had the fish close to hand, bending down I slipped the barbless hook from a pound trout then watched it swim away strongly.

After standing in midstream for some ten minutes I spotted a fish under the overhanging sycamore trees, casting some thirty feet of line I watched the fly drift downstream, suddenly it was gone. I tightened into a heavy fish, getting excited as line got pulled from the reel. Quickly realising it wasn’t a trout, but a chub as the fish bored downstream. A few minutes of boring and head shaking then I had the chub close to hand. I gasped, it was a huge chub, got to be nearly six pounds I though. Lifting it from the water I shouted to Mick “It’s a six give or take a few ounces either side”. Slipping out the barbless hook I placed the chub in the river facing upstream then watched it swim off strongly. “Why didn’t it happen after June 16th” I said to Mick. Still that’s angling.