Fair Weather and Foul

Fair weather and foul.

What’s that thing from the US Postal Service? That motto about “rain or snow?”.

Well apparently it isn’t an official motto, but inscribed on The James Farley Post office in New York City are the words:

“Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds”

It sounds pretty impressive, but then they actually nicked the phrase from Herodotus, describing the Persian system of mounted postal carriers. Yes we all thought that that was invented by the Pony Express but apparently the Persians came up with the idea well before Charlton Heston and Rhonda Fleming.

Anyway I digress, the point is that I suspect that the same immortal words could be applied to fly anglers, with the useful adaption of “appointed rounds” to something along the lines of “pursuing fish” . Living and fishing in South Africa I get to fish mostly in nice balmy weather, it has its drawbacks low water, clear blue skies, spooky trout and nine inch wide shadows from 7x tippet but mostly it is pleasant out there. Except not now, now is winter, now the rivers are closed and in flood, now the temperatures have plummeted, now there is snow on the mountains, now it is actually pretty unpleasant and the only options are stillwater fishing.

In fact the stillwater fishing here is generally far better in the cold winter months but perhaps many people don’t realise that winter here, on the southern tip of the African Continent is pretty much like winter most places, lots of rain, high winds, and biting chill.

So apart from tying different flies, rigging different lines and gearing up the boat for launch, it also means searching through the cupboards for the thermal nickers and all that stuff to ward of hypothermia.

It so happens that the weather forecast for the high country was for rain on Saturday and sunny skies on the Sunday, and it would have seemed an obvious choice to head out on Sunday, but alas that wasn’t on the cards. My very good mate and regular boat partner Mike had other commitments for the Sunday so it was go on Saturday and deal with the weather. After all we are men not mice right? A bit of rain never heart anyone after all; we are supposed to be outdoorsmen, intrepid adventurers, to go behind beyond what no one has gone behind beyond before and all off that. This is fishing, you can’t let the weather dictate what you do, just get out there and fish. Anyway we all know that the fishing is often best when the weather is at its worst, at least on stillwaters. If the quality of the fishing is in inverse proportion to the horror of the weather we were in for a high ol’ time.

So it was a case of digging deep in the cupboards for the wet weather gear and girding up the loins for some foul weather fishing. In the end Mike couldn’t make it anyway (there is some karma coming his way for that no doubt) so I drove the two hours to Ceres on my own, lashing rain, puddles and some frighteningly blinding spray from the trucks on the road. I met up with Albe Nel at his home in Ceres and we headed for the water in the pre-dawn darkness. The fancy little LED screen in the car boasting that the temperatures had risen to nearly 8°C, positively tropical for this part of the world during the winter months.

At the lake we were greeted by friends who were staying out there in the fishing hut and were most grateful of an early morning cuppa and the shelter of the porch whilst we donned waders, fleeces, rain jackets, hats and whole nine yards, knowing that we were to be sitting in the downpour for the entire day. The boat was inflated and launched without mishap and although things looked more than a little grim, with low cloud, lashing rain and a moderate and bitterly chill wind we were committed now. Plus it has to be said that I had a new reel and a couple of new flylines with which I was desperately keen to experiment.

The first drift of the day was a rather torrid affair, we haven’t boat fished for months and were out of practise, the wayward breezes switched direction constantly and the rain lashed down. The boat spun about and refused to settle into a nice neat track but right at the end of that first drift we hit a fish. A bright silver triploid stockie from last season, fit as a fiddle, feeding close up against the bank.

The sun didn’t come out but it felt a little as though it had now that the blank had been avoided. Outside of fishing circles it is a little recognised fact that although mathematically the difference between nought and two and one and two is the same, in fishing the former is an order of magnitude more significant that the latter and it is always an uplifting moment to get that monkey off your back.

We rowed back to repeat the drift, pushing the boat into the waves with long pulls on the oars, the rain at times now near horizontal. On the second drift we were a little better organised and hit fish with some regularity. Both fishing intermediate lines, Albe’s sinking a little faster than my “Hover Line”, remarkably all the fish took small nymphs fished on the top dropper, I suppose that for whatever reason that was what they wanted.

So the day progressed, it rained, we caught a few fish, it rained more and we caught a few more fish. We would occasionally take what my American clients euphemistically refer to as a “Comfort Break”, which mostly involved walking about to stretch sore and stiff muscles, lighting a fag out of the full force of the gale and perhaps taking a pee, risking exposure of one’s nether regions to the rapidly dropping temperatures.

Trying to undo waders and coat zips with frozen fingers reminded me of a quotation about the most difficult part of climbing Mt Everest. I don’t recall the commentator’s name but the response was “taking a piss with a three inch dick in nine inches of clothing”, we weren’t exactly at camp two on the Lhotse traverse but it darn well felt like it.

For one all too brief spell the weak winter sun broke through the clouds and we basked in radiant heat for all of five minutes before the weather closed in again, but we persevered. At one point Albe got to three fish more than me,(during the day we had never been more than a fish or two away from equality), so I switched to a faster intermediate line and immediately nabbed two fish to bring the scores near level once again.

It is interesting that one has to pick out the right depth to be fishing and even in these torrid conditions and the chore of tying knots with frigid fingers , good technique dictates that one is prepared to adapt and making the right moves pays dividends in the end.

We pushed things too late, the clouds lifted a tad to reveal snowfalls on the high peaks around the lake, not more than a few hundred meters above us, it just served to make us feel more chill than we already were. The boat was filled with rainwater, every single thing from fly boxes to boat bags were completely drenched and by the time we packed up it had got dark. We just chucked everything into the back of Albe’s truck and decided to sort it all out in the light and relative warmth of his garage when we got back to town. The air temperature by now had dropped to 5°C.

It was an act of insanity really to fish so late, we had caught plenty of fish, more than thirty for the day between us, but I suppose when you are fishermen out fishing and the fish are biting it is just a little too much to simply walk away. Anyway what’s a little hypothermia between friends?

I still had to venture out into the darkness and downpour to open two gates on the way home and if I can find the guy who invented the heater in Albe’s truck I might well be prepared to perform and unnatural act as gratitude for his foresight.

Many thanks to Wendy, Craig, Isaac, David and Sarah for allowing us to occupy the hut during our breaks and for plying us with hot coffee to stave off the chill.

It wasn’t the most auspicious start to the winter season, but we can’t complain about the fishing, having spent the night at home under two duvets and a couple of blankets my core temperature has returned to near normal. My body still feels a bit bruised and battered and there is a pile of wet fishing gear and a filthy boat to be sorted out but the sun is shining outside and in a week or two I shall be ready to try again. I suppose there is a fine dividing line between madness and passion and I am hoping that perhaps there might be a little sunshine on the next trip. A few more days like this and my body will lose all its pigmentation, rather like those weird creatures that live out their lives in the chill dank of deep caves, but I know that whatever the weather, it isn’t going to stop me wetting a line and I figure that is the way things should be.

Counting your Blessings

Fly fishing is filled with metaphors of life, at least it seems like that to me but perhaps that is just a fly angler’s passion showing through. Maybe golfers or climbers say the same thing, you know like “missing a putt is like life really” or “you can’t climb if you are afraid to fall”. I don’t know but to me fishing is a central theme and with that I see life’s ups and downs reflected within.

One of the less pleasant aspects of modern life is that we are all encouraged to be dissatisfied, particularly if some corporate entity somewhere can profit from our discontent. Watch the TV and you will soon discover that your skin isn’t smooth enough, your arse is too big, your kids too wayward, your car too small and your washing not really that white. It is an endless attack on contentment and a space all too easy into which one can fall.

Men’s magazines constantly have you worrying that you aren’t smart enough, sufficiently wealthy, healthy, skinny, sexy, muscular or any of an endless array of apparently critical failings. Women’s publications are worse, the covers in every single monthly edition suggest things that you should really be doing in the bathroom, the garden, the kitchen and the bedroom, all of which you have apparently gotten wrong up to now. (it’s a miracle that you are still kicking)

Read a bit closer and in general all you need to do to get yourself on track is to pop the pill, buy the appliance, change your diet, have the surgery or throw more funds at something. Apparently that’s all it takes,  just chuck a bit more money at it and all will be well, you will have tight abs, a gorgeous lawn, an eye catching car, you will get the women (or men), you will have the success, acolytes will travel the world to fall at your feet and you will awake in nirvana..

Fly fishing magazines are beginning to follow the same tiresome rhetoric, where once one may have enjoyed an article on someone’s modification of a classic fly pattern now there are endless destinations (always priced in dollars), there are fish that you should be catching, exotic locations you should have visited if you are to call yourself a real angler. There are rods, reels and lines all which will supposedly enhance your experience, catch you more fish and have you casting into the next county. Not last week I saw a line cutter that cost as much as my first car, admittedly it wasn’t much of a car but you get the point..

Plus of course the magazine covers always show HUGE fish, much in the same way that women’s mags always have super models on the front,  or men’s publications show V8 Supercharged, candy apple red Mustangs or something similar. Discontent is BIG business, and someone somewhere it throwing millions of advertising dollars at it to help you into a state of depression.

It is the way of the world, what I like to call “The Marketing Department” and nothing wrong with it except that it encourages unhappiness more than anything else.

Just recently I went fishing with a friend, it wasn’t a guiding trip, there was no financial transaction and only a moderate outlay of funds. We fished with basic tackle, perfectly suitable for the task at hand but not expensive. We skipped the toll road and took a little longer to reach the river but it didn’t matter as we weren’t in a hurry. The stream was flowing crystal clear after some recent rains and there were a few mayflies coming off as we hit the first run.

It was a day of familiar banter about a range of subjects, some even related directly to fishing for that matter. We cast nymphs and dries over familiar water, we spotted some fish before we cast and we had more than a little success. Perhaps less than we might have and yet certainly more that should righteously be expected.

There are more exotic locations, with greater numbers of fish, bigger fish and perhaps even slightly clearer water. There is tackle that is fancier, more expensive and just maybe even a little more efficient. But you know, we fished on public water unbothered by anyone else, a result of the beat system that spreads the angling load. We caught some really rather good trout, a result of committed catch and release regulations and we did all of that not more than an hour’s drive from a major metropolitan centre.  We enjoyed the familiarity of known waters, with a good friend, a day of blessed solitude, trout and fantastic mountain scenery and we still managed to be home in time for tea.

Fly fishing is, or at least can be a simple pleasure, and aren’t those always the best kind? When you get right down to it, on the river it is about you, about how you perform, what choices you make, your entire universe compressed to just you and the fish. Life cut down to the simplest of things. You get it right you catch some fish, you get it wrong, well then you catch less and above all it doesn’t really matter because you were going to put them back anyway. It’s not life and death, but it is life.

In these parts we don’t have a great deal of fishing, but what we do have is pretty darned good. One could fall asleep disheartened that you may never get to wade New Zealand’s South Island, fish the Ponoi Peninsula or crack it on a Seychelles bonefish flat. Hell you could slip into discontent that your reel isn’t the latest bar-stock aerospace aluminium, or that your nipper is a nail cutter from the local drug store. You could even fret over the idea that you probably never will wake up with a physically sated supermodel who is dying to cook your breakfast before she catches a plane for the Bahamas to get to an advertising shoot.  Or you can simply say, “darn it, this isn’t half bad”.

There was a little publication doing the rounds a year or so back that suggested that if you had money in the bank you were in the top 8% of the world’s population, if you are healthy you are better off than the million or so people who won’t see the end of the week. If you can read and write you are way ahead of some three billion people who haven’t learned how to,  if you had food in the fridge or indeed even had a fridge, well you were near in the realms of the Gods.

I don’t have DSTV, a smart phone, a 4×4 vehicle, sexy ab’s or even my youth , but I figure that if I have clear, catch and release trout water, with fish up to 20” that will regularly rise to dry flies, glorious scenery and friend or two to fish it with not an hour from my home, well that isn’t too bad.  Right now it’s pissing with rain, the temperatures have plummeted, the river season is closed and there is snow on the mountains. But I shouldn’t be complaining, I am able to read and write, I own a fridge and I have a roof over my head which keeps the rain off………..

Hell I could have be born a bait fisherman..

So today say a little thank you that you are a fly fisherman, do something nice for someone less fortunate, hug your kids, tell your wife (or husband) you love them and plan to hit a river or lake sometime soon. I don’t suppose it takes a lot more than that to be happy, not if you really think about it.

Getting the shot.

Is photography taking over from the barbed hook?

With the advent of the digital age it seems almost incumbent on us as anglers to have photographs of our fish. The ol’ “grip and grin image” is near mandatory and doubly so should one claim capture of a trophy specimen.

Now people head to the river with waterproof cameras, cell phones and on one occasion I had a client whip out an Apple iPad right there in the middle of the stream, I am glad I wasn’t insuring the darned thing I can tell you that. Electronics and H₂O don’t generally make happy bedfellows and I have drowned a few cameras and cell phones in my time.

Trouble is that it appears with the digital age, people won’t just take your word for it, it is almost expected that you should have a photo of your catch and expected that you then spread it about a variety of social media. If you don’t have a picture you can see people’s eyes glaze over a fraction and the doubt that your fish really was 20” is written all over their features.

A few specimens are gaining near celebrity status on the world wide web and what with YouTube, Facebook, eMails and such it has reached the point that one can hardly be taken seriously unless you have a photo of your fish plastered about the ether.

A lovely shot from SwittersB, not that the fish is still in the net, the mesh is soft plastic. The photo captures the beauty of the fish and it’s glorious colouration without any handling.

To be honest my “check list” for my fishing box, which used to feature such reminders and Lanyard, Water, Rod, Reel, Spare leader, Bandana and Polaroids; now also sports “Camera” and “Spare Camera Battery” added to the spreadsheet.  It is tricky not to get caught up with this stuff.

There are numerous articles and blog posts on subjects such as “Fishing Photography”, the camera has become a near essential tool, right along with the nippers and forceps and apparently it isn’t enough anymore to simply snap a quick image. Now you need to have the light right, the sun behind you, perhaps some elegantly framed foliage or your uber-expensive serpentine handled bar stock aluminium reel in the frame too.

A superb image from Darryl Lampert, who produces some excellent on stream photography. Again note the fish is over the net, the angler’s hands are wet, the fish is horizontal and still partly in the water.

It does however cross my mind that this may not all be that good for the fish. Years back I was part of the fight, if you can call it that, to change the management structures of our streams to Catch and Release only. We managed, after some considerable dissention from a few of the older fishing crew, to mandate barbless hooks and no kill limits. The fishing has undoubtedly improved as a consequence and even the old hands who argued that “it wasn’t really fishing if you didn’t have a frying pan” have acknowledged that the system works better and there are more and larger fish to be caught.

Another emotive shot from Darryl, capturing the location, the fish and the angler (Denise Hills). Again the fish is over the net to prevent mishap, wet hands and obviously no messing about with the fish out of the water.

I personally strongly dislike barbed hooks, they are dreadful things and to my way of thinking have no place on the end of the line of any serious fly angler. They are bad for you, they are bad for hook-ups and most importantly perhaps they are bad for the fish. So we have made things better for the trout in these parts, barbs are out and damage done on hooking a trout is really minimal. Over time we have all taken to using nets with soft knotless bags, all with a view to protecting the fish from harm.  Where we would once eschew nets as troublesome accoutrements we now mostly recognise that with fine tippets and small flies, safely releasing the fish is far easier with a net and minimises trauma. You need not play the fish to complete exhaustion if you have a net and you don’t run the risk of dropping the fish at the last minute whist extricating the hook and leave the poor thing with a nose ring.  We all now wet our hands, nurse the fish back to strength before letting them go and have been known to dive into the water to retrieve one that seems to be less than recovered.

Again, over the net, supported by both hands and water, minimal stress to the fish.

We have, over time come to take greater and greater care of the fish, and I always warn clients that during the moments that there is a fish on the line or in the net my priority is the wellbeing of the trout and that they had better fend for themselves for those few moments in time.

But it concerns me that after all these advances and for all the new found respect and care taken of our fish, once the camera is out of the pocket there is a temptation to cave in to craven desire and abuse the trout in an effort to get the perfect image.

When fishing with a partner it isn’t quite so troublesome, the angler can look after the fish and the partner can look after the pictures. There can still however be a temptation to overdo things and I have seen a number of still and movie images of trout which are undoubtedly being abused for little more than the self-gratification of the angler.  I have watched on video some very large trout be hoisted unceremoniously into the air, jaws clamped in a Boga Grip, something that has no place on trout waters as far as I am concerned and more than a few images on line suggest that by the time the light was right, the focus perfect and the backdrop selected the trout had been held captive and stressed for a good deal longer than it need to have been.

On one’s own, and to a point, without a witness there is more pressure to preserve your moment for posterity, the photographic thing is then even more problematic. Early last season I took a 21” brown trout whilst angling alone, it was very hard to get a picture at all and sadly the ones that I did capture didn’t really show the true size or magnificence of the trout, but at the same time I wasn’t prepared to overstress the fish just to get the shot, in the end it is an act of dreadfully selfishness to do so.

Not a great shot of mine, but on my own I did manage to record the moment without removing the fish from the net and without handling the trout much at all.

Only recently an image was posted on line of a lovely brown trout, dragged on shore and apparently pinned down with the angler’s foot whilst its picture was taken. I can understand the desire to have a record of such a fish but that should never outweigh the wellbeing of the quarry. Anglers and hunters alike, whether planning to eat or release their targets should feel and demonstrate respect.  In this particular photograph the footwear of the photographer would suggest novice status, and here may be some level of mitigation in that, but abuse is abuse and a lack of knowledge isn’t an overriding excuse for such. I have always laughed at the idea that in Germany you need to take an exam before you can go fishing, now I am not so sure that it is such a bad idea, although in fairness in Germany you are not allowed to practise Catch and Release either so maybe it is a poor example.

This is NOT how you do it, stress and damage to the fish is virtually assured.

One of the great problems with social media is that it is universal, not only do anglers see these images that whizz about the globe faster than bird flu, but so do the detractors of field sports. Bear in mind that whilst you may be keen for your mates to see photographic evidence of your catch so equally it becomes available for the detractors, the gainsayers, the protestors and all the rest who are just dying to find evidence that catch and release fishing should be banned. Indeed in a few countries it already is.

I have on occasion posted video of trout fishing and frequently received comments from non-anglers along the lines of “Wow, I can’t believe you take that much care of the fish”. That is nice to know, it puts out a good message to people who don’t understand fly fishing. But equally providing global digital evidence of abuse isn’t good for the cause, that it isn’t good for the fish should already be apparent.

Having gone through the evolution that we have, having removed the damaging effects of barbed hooks, knotted nets, dry hands and all the rest of it are we perhaps negating it all in our efforts to record our catches? Is it possible that we are doing more damage now than before the digital age caught up with us?

Consideration and respect for our quarry should be a given, I don’t want to be tarred with the same brush as the bass anglers who transport their catches to football stadia so that they can hoist them by the lip in front of a crowd of screaming fans. That we all to some degree traumatise the fish that we catch is probably a given, I like to think that this is no more stressful than being chased by an otter or swooped on by an osprey, but it is incumbent upon us all to minimise any stress, to release the fish as cleanly and quickly as possible and if taking photographs increases the stress we should stop.

A few points:

• Do not remove the fish from the water (keep it in the net) until you are ready to take the shot.
• Keep the fish over the net, so that should you drop it there is no additional damage.
• Wet your hands, it is remarkable how many videos and DVD’s show supposedly experienced anglers failing to take this simple precaution.
• Use a net with soft mesh and no knots.
• Personally I prefer to remove the hook after the shot, that way you can prevent dropping the fish and releasing it prematurely when not recovered fully.
• Limit your time, if you don’t get the shot within a minute or so just give up and let the fish go.
• Obviously barbless hooks should be used whether you intend to take photos or not.
• Support the fish’s weight and keep it horizontal, hanging fish by the lip or gills can cause untold damage to vital internal organs.
• Do not put the fish on dry land, rocks or similar or force the fish to support it’s own body weight in any way.
• This is what Lefty Kreh has to say about releasing fish http://templeforkrods.wordpress.com/2013/01/10/landing-and-releasing-fish/

It is wonderful that we now have the opportunity to record our successes, and that we can share those images around the world, but a good shot isn’t worth a life. There is little point in following all the catch and release recommendations only to harm the fish whilst fiddling about with focus and the lens cap.

The Magic Crayon

Henry had enjoyed a good day fishing midge patterns to spooky fish in clear water, the fish had been difficult enough to make it interesting and active enough to make it worthwhile and as he walked back to his car he whistled quietly to himself, a sign of a level of contentment that rarely came to Henry these days, except when he was fishing of course. He mostly was too busy with his business to get out on the river, so today was a special treat.

Walking along the river bank, still eyeing the water for signs of feeding fish as he went Henry spied  an old crayon box partly sunken and spinning in a back eddie. The cardboard was a little tatty from scraping on the boulders and the seams were beginning to fray as the glue dissolved, but the box was still instantly recognisable for what it was. The colours of the crayons in the image still bright and shiny, protected perhaps by the wax that had permeated the cardboard over time.

Picking up the box with a view to removing the offending litter from his favoured trout stream Henry gave the box a firm shake, hoping to work out most of the water before putting it into what was soon to become a damp pocket in his fishing vest. As he shook it though a single bright red crayon flew from the disintegrating packaging and plopped loudly into the water at his feet.

Being a diligent fellow with a strong aversion to litter Henry put the soggy box into his pocket and bent over to recover the now bobbing crayon from the current. As he reached for it he noticed that it hadn’t apparently been used and wondered how that could be, surely a child would have worn down the red one first? Red being a favoured colour for most youngsters, at least to Henry’s mind.

He picked up the crayon and examined the tip, yes, as he had thought, virtually no wear on the point all rather odd, thought Henry. “What on earth is a crayon box doing in a trout stream?” he commented to himself in the hushed tones reserved for those given to talking to themselves out loud , it is after all generally perceived as slightly strange to converse alone. To Henry’s great amazement there came a reply from the undergrowth on the river bank. “It’s not a normal crayon, it’s magic”…

Henry jumped slightly, rather startled by the intrusion, there wasn’t anyone obviously in sight and anyway there were not any other anglers due to be on this section of the stream. The small and slightly squeaky voice came again, “Seriously it is a magic crayon” intoned the voice.

Henry now more startled than ever lay down his rod and set about searching the underbrush for the source of the comments, feeling rather self-conscious, after all it wouldn’t be the done thing for anyone to see him talking to the bushes now would it? People have been committed for less.

“Who said that?” enquired Henry, feeling doubly foolish now for even considering that there could be anyone there. “I am over here” replied the little voice,”Under the dog rose”. Henry carefully moved some of the trailing brambles, not wishing to prick himself and at the same time feeling really rather daft, and there in the shade of the bush stood a tiny little man, perhaps only six inches tall and dressed for all the world like an angler, wearing a minute vest its pockets bulging with tiny fly boxes, his lanyard jangling with the minute tools of his trade and on his feet sturdy little wading boots, fashioned from some fine thin leather, shining as though newly polished.

“Who are you” asked Henry, expecting all the time to be awoken from what he now considered a rather strange dream. “I am Ignatius Highwater” replied the little man, “and I am the keeper of the stream”

“What do you mean the keeper of the stream ?” enquired Henry, now more perplexed than ever, “I have never heard of such a thing, I mean what do you actually do here?” he asked.

“Well” replied the tiny river keeper, “I am one of a family of river elves who look after the trout streams in these parts and this river is my responsibility”

“Mostly” he continued, “ We tidy up the place, remove bits of nylon that have been  carelessly left in the trees and nurse trout hurt by barbed hooks back to health”, he continued” but then we also sometimes have a bit of fun and grease the rocks, that makes for some grand entertainment on a sunny day I have to admit” It didn’t escape Henry’s notice that the little elf developed a distinct grin at this point, and his mind flashed back to those occasions when he had taken an unceremonious and rather chilly dive into the river on account of losing his footing.

Now entirely convinced that he must have dozed off Henry carried on with his imaginary conversation, “what is it about this crayon that you think makes it magic?” asked Henry.

The little man in the bushes went on to describe how it was that the crayon was indeed possessed of special powers. “You see” said Ignatius, “this crayon only reveals what it writes to its owner and not to anyone else, nobody else needs to know what you write with it.”

“I don’t really understand” said Henry “how does that help anyone to have such a crayon, it doesn’t seem to make much sense to me”, mind you by this point there was really quite a lot that didn’t make sense to Henry.  After all he had been fishing on his favourite stream having a pleasant day in familiar surroundings and now he was having a conversation with an imaginary elf under the shade of a dog rose.  It was, thought Henry, all more than a little odd.

“Don’t worry” shouted Ignatius the elf, as he started to skip away along a tiny path in the undergrowth, “you will work it out”.. and with that he disappeared from view all together.

Henry searched a while to see if he could find where the little man had gone but then popping the crayon into his pocket he continued on his way back to the car, he had a long drive ahead.

Once home Henry unpacked his fishing gear, stowed the rods in their rack and hung his fishing vest in the airing cupboard to get rid of any dampness and headed for bed. It had be an enjoyable if certainly somewhat strange day.

Dozing off Henry couldn’t help but to keep thinking on his experience, and as sleep took hold and his mind wandered he dreamed fitfully of trout and clear streams, of little elves and red crayons.

On awaking though these thoughts had passed by and Henry set about his normal busy working day, what muddled memories he did have of Ignatius and the crayon we written off as simply a strange dream.

It was more than a few days later when Henry was packing away his now dried out fishing vest that he felt an unfamiliar bulge in the fabric and on investigation found a bright red crayon in the top pocket.  All the memories of his day on the river came flooding back and he stood more than a little confused as he stared at the crayon in his hand.

He headed off for work, putting thoughts of the crayon to the back of his mind but during the course of a busy day a picture of the little elf under the bushes kept coming back to the fore and reaching into his trouser pocket he would gently rub the crayon between his fingers. “you will work it out”, what did that mean exactly?

The weather forecast for the following Wednesday was looking perfect for the rivers, the temperatures were due to be warm and the breezes light and Henry thought that there may well be a hatch of blue winged olives if the conditions held. But he really couldn’t get away, he was busy with his business and there were always people demanding of his attention. The phone would ring all day long and sometimes, to Henry’s mind even worse, it wouldn’t ring at all and he would worry that perhaps the phone wasn’t working.

Darn it he thought, “I really would like a day on the river” but he couldn’t see how he would manage to find the time and once again his mind returned to the crayon.

He pulled it out of his pocket, where it had remained since the first day and wrote in big bold letters on his wall planner “Gone Fishing”

Then the phone rang, one of his suppliers wanted to see him, could they make it Wednesday? Henry looked up at his planner, sadly imagining that he would now be forced to rub out his newly scribed intention to take a day off, took a deep breath and said rather sheepishly, “Can’t do Wednesday, I am out of the office all day” and quite to Henry’s amazement his contact simple said “Oh, OK, well let’s make it Thursday then”

The phone rang again, this time a client who was in town on the Wednesday and wanted to meet up, “What about ten o’clock?” enquired the client, but emboldened now Henry responded “can’t do Wednesday, I am out of the office all day”, “OK” replied the client, “it wasn’t that important I will catch you next week when I am in town”..

And so the day continued, it seemed as though everyone wanted to see Henry on Wednesday, but each time he told them he was out of the office they simply made an appointment for an alternative time. “This is great” thought Henry “There really must be some magic in that crayon, and I am going to go fishing again”, he started to whistle quietly to himself as he continued with his paperwork, feeling really rather content with things.

Tuesday Henry arrived at the office early, he drew up a spread sheet of all the things that really needed to be done and worked steadfastly towards completing the list. Many of the things on the list had been there for some time, but motivated to clear his desk before he headed for the river on the morrow Henry ticked off the tasks:  phone calls, payments, emails, letters, appointments for next week and the rest. Buoyed with enthusiasm of his coming trip he dealt with the difficult customers that he had been putting off, booked his car in for a service, something he should have done 1000km ago and although he worked well into the dark of the evening and had to eventually put on the office lights to see what he was doing by the time he headed home his desk was clear for the first time in months.

He whistled to himself as he packed his fishing gear, made some sandwiches and put all in the car ready for an early start in the morning. He slept like a baby, the alarm set for an early start, content that the office was cleared of its backlog and that he was heading for the river.

The day proved wonderful, his head cleared of the clutter of work commitments Henry fished to rising trout, all coming up to the sparse hatch of Blue Winged Olives that he had predicted. He caught some beautiful fish, adorned with spectacular red spots,  and when he inadvertently hooked his fly in a tree he was diligent in removing the nylon, his thoughts wandering to whether Ignatius was perhaps watching.

“What a wonderful day” thought Henry, “ I shall do this again” and he resolved to get out his magic crayon and write “Gone Fishing “on the wall planner in the office, just as soon as he got home.

This continued for the rest of the fishing season, each month Henry would write “gone fishing” on his Calendar for one Wednesday when the conditions looked good, he would work like a Trojan to clear his desk and enjoy a free day out. On his return from his fishing trips he was always in good humour and worked doubly hard on the Thursday to catch up. His clients commented that he seemed better organised and more cheerful these days and business boomed. His clients and suppliers got used to the fact that Henry would always make the effort to see them just as soon as possible but they knew that he was sometimes tied up with other things. After all one couldn’t expect a busy and successful man like Henry to always be available at the drop of a hat.

As the summer turned to Autumn, and the leaves were changing colour to the russet tones of the season Henry had one last day on the water. The river was chill and the skies a little gray but the fish were there and Henry, now after months of regular visits knew the water and the fish rather well. Able to predict where they would be and what they would be feeding on both his success rate and enjoyment had soared.

The day drew on and the sun began to slide behind the mountains as Henry caught his last fish for the season and slipped it gently back into the water, it gave a sturdy wave of its tail as a final goodbye and disappeared into the cold clear flow as Henry  wound in his line and started his walk back to the car.

“Had a good season didn’t you Henry?” came the squeaky little voice that Henry had all but forgotten. Turning about he saw Ignatius the elf, sitting on a broken branch. Once again Henry felt dreadfully self-conscious and looked about to see if perhaps someone was playing a prank on him, but there was no one abroad but him and the tiny man in the fishing clothes.

“Well yes I did have a rather good season, thank you” said Henry “That magic crayon is fantastic”.

The little elf laughed so loudly that he nearly fell from his precarious perch on the broken limb and had to grab wildly for a hand hold, “The crayon isn’t magic you fool, it was just a joke” said Ignatius.

“Well” replied Henry “it worked magic for me, that’s for sure”.

“I think that you will find that you worked the magic for yourself Henry” said the elf, “Oh and by the way, thanks for picking up your nylon”, and with that he bid Henry a brief goodbye and scuttled off to his home under the now russet coloured brambles..

A variety of somewhat more serious writings from the author are available on line from Smashwords, you can see the various publication via a link from clicking the image below.

Variations on a Theme

Variations on a theme:

I often think that fly tying books and even instructors do the neophyte tyer and perhaps some of the old hands a great disservice. There are “new” patterns being invented all the time and there are those so besotted with the concept of having the “right fly” that they spend all their mental energies on such. Truth be told fly tying hasn’t changed a whole helluva lot in the years since Halford and Skues fiddled about with hooks and feathers. There have been innovations to be sure. In his book “Sunshine and the Dry Fly” (1924) John William Dunne described such esoteric niceties as painting the hooks white and the effects of thread colours on dubbing. As anglers it seems we are always looking for “that edge”, if nothing else it is entertaining.

Image courtesy of Essential Fly Tying Techniques

However as time has gone by I realise that much of it is just a rehash of the same old same old. Most anglers are less effective than they might be more as a result of their presentations than their flies and most flytiers would do well to spend a bit more time on technique and proportion than accumulating the latest synthetic dubbing or pre-printed plastic wing.

Jock Scott Salmon fly, beautifully fashioned by Brian Ebert image courtesy of www.bestclassicsalmonflies.com

The arguments have raged for decades, the concept that a Jock Scott just isn’t as effective without the jungle cock sides or kingfisher cheeks perhaps, or that your favourite woolly bugger really needs that blue flash in it, not the silver one that everybody else uses.

It is nice enough, fun even, (and where Salmon Flies are concerned pure art to be sure), perhaps it builds confidence which is not insignificant but in the final analysis fly tying hasn’t changed that much. There are really relatively few techniques to learn, perhaps a dozen or so and you can manufacture, albeit with a little practise and a modicum of dexterity, any number of trout, salmon, steelhead or other flies using the same tried and tested methods.

As a self-confessed pragmatist I like to keep things simple, I would rather have more flies than less and speed and simplicity of manufacture aids that particular goal.

Not that I can’t appreciate the thought and skills in what some would call “advanced fly tying” I really do and there are more than a few little tricks that I have learned from people such as Olive Edwards whose “Masterclass” book really should be required reading, if only to point out what is possible. It’s just that I can’t get overly excited about it. I sure as hell don’t feel comfortable trying to whisk a fly, that took me two hours to make, at a reticent brown hiding in a tangle of tree roots and overhanging branches.  To quote John Gierach “to be of any use at all a fly should be thoughtlessly expendable” and one doesn’t wish to have to fish with a limited supply of complex patterns and a team of navy divers in case one of your creations requires retrieval from an underwater snag.

The ability to tie touching turns of thread is the basis for all fly tying, smooth under-bodies of neatly aligned thread wraps go a long way to making a durable and neatly fashioned pattern.

Image courtesy of Essential Fly Tying Techniques

Starting the thread off on the hook is a struggle for the beginner but quickly mastered and to my mind performing a neat and durable whip-finish a basic requirement. (I do so hate to see good tyers throw in a few half hitches and rely on the varnish to hold it all together and I am not much given to using a whip finish tool either for that matter, you simply don’t need one).

Image courtesy of Essential Fly Tying Techniques

The pinch and loop is a necessity unless you wish to be chasing materials about the hook, but no matter that you are tying in duck quill wings or a piece of tinsel ribbing the process is the same.

Image courtesy of Essential Fly Tying Techniques

One can argue about wrapping hackles but there really aren’t that many variations, even the difference between Catskill ties and parachutes aren’t that significant, and variation between winding palmered hackles and standard one’s is little more than a matter of the spacing..

Dubbing is as old as the hills, there are a few ways to do it, the direction you spin it is important and of course there are variations using loops of thread or even special tools but for the most part lashing hair onto a hook is a basic and simple process.

Winding neat open turns of ribbing as a must for many patterns to be sure but it isn’t rocket science.

Image courtesy of Essential Fly Tying Techniques

Perhaps a more troublesome fiddle is spinning of deer hair, many never really master it and I could suggest that spinning deer hair on a bare hook requires slightly different methodology to doing the same when there is some thread already laid down on the metal, but it just takes a little instruction and practise

Image courtesy of Essential Fly Tying Techniques

However the problem for most new fly tyers, or for us old hands when tying a new pattern is more a matter of consistency than anything else. It isn’t unlike backing a cake, you might have all the correct ingredients but if you don’t master the proportions and the methods you are not going to particularly enjoy your afternoon tea.

No doubt we all develop our own little quirks and it is remarkable how one can identify patterns tied by different anglers. For example all my parachute patterns are now finished around the post, I suppose quite a modern innovation, but in the end consistency wins out and all flies become simple variations on a theme.

In the final analysis though, once you have mastered perhaps a dozen techniques you can tie pretty much anything and with practise you can “churn em’ out”. On a winter’s evening I am happy to play but in the midst of the season, battles looming in the morning and with water to cover and fish to catch, well I would rather be holding a box of dozens of tried and tested durable flies than a few complicated experiments.

SnapShots

Fishermen I suspect see the calendar a little differently than most; it is Autumn here, well banging towards winter to be honest. The temperatures have dropped and I was up early which means that my feet are chill inside my slippers and it has taken an age for the skies to brighten.

I was contemplating the past year, for most the year starts in January but for me the year starts and ends in May. That is the last of the stream fishing for another season and at the same time the beginning of what one hopes will be some fine stillwater angling.

Come to think of it I was born in May and perhaps that was some sort of evolutionary mandate to allow me as much time as possible to grow before the opening of the season, much as sea birds give their chicks the time to learn to fly before the food source blooms, or Wildebeest time their breeding to coincide with the rains. You never know.

My life and my calendar are defined by fishing, I am not sure that I want it like that so much as that is just the way things are. I was born to fish and whilst I am interested in a lot of things, little or nothing grabs my attention quite in the same way as fly fishing does. So unremarkably the year is remembered in snapshots, moments in time, mostly related to fishing.

The season has been kind, there have been more than a few days of angling, the early forays into the swollen and frigid waters, with some nice rainbows and of course a few tiddlers too. Mind you the tiddlers are inordinately pretty, with blue parr markings, reminiscent of inky finger stains on the flanks of the juvenile rainbows. There were a couple of wonderful browns, a fortunate happenstance courtesy of a damaged screen in a local trout farm a few years back. The browns have done better than anyone expected and packed on weight such that a 20” brown trout is, if not common at least within one’s sights.

The rainbows have managed to breed well over the last few seasons too, plenty of fish to go around and all happily protected by catch and release regulations. They have provided sport for myself and clients alike, and I have been fortunate to be part of the capture of the very first fly caught trout with a number of anglers. There have been a few girls too who have ventured out and caught their first fish, little do they suspect that they may well end up as hooked as the fish were.

There has been some travel, a trip to the UK to my old stomping grounds for a wedding, and of course a spot of fishing. My brother became betrothed for the first time and I fished a genuine English Chalk stream for the first time too. I met up with old friends, family and some new acquaintances who kindly helped me keep my line wet and fishing fever at bay.  I watched small children catch crabs from “Iron Bridge” which probably represents the geographical start of my love affair with fishing and wandered the West Country to try out some stillwaters and rivers that I had either never fished or only fished years before.

I walked country lanes and drank real ale in country pubs, thick granite walls, smoke stained wooden beams and roofs of local slate. There were hostelries with names like “The Fisherman’s Cot” and “The Trout Inn” and wondrous ales , my personal favourite being “Doombar” from the Sharps Brewery near Rock.

Memories of endless rain and gloriously verdant countryside, I suppose the two go hand in hand for obvious reasons.

Then there was the Wild Trout Associations festival in Rhodes, a lovely village set in the high country of the Eastern Cape, buckets of water or one should perhaps say “Miles of River” as the water was a bit low on some of the streams and a bucketful might have caused something of a flood. The fishing was however good and I was able to assist some anglers make the most of their trip. It has been a good year all round for the neophytes, with lots of coaching and guiding, some keen little kids and some older fly fishing beginners all getting into the swing of things and catching some trout. It is always a special pleasure to be able to help the newbies.

Now the season here is drawing to a close, I have fond memories of fishing on my own on Christmas Day and a trip out with my friend Mike on Good Friday, which was fun until the river turned to chocolate due to out-flow from one of the local trout farms.  Sometimes the opportunity to fish doesn’t present itself as often as one might like but all in all it has been good. The rivers will start to fill now, the night time temperatures are dropping such that the fish will turn their minds to breeding shortly. Just as that happens though the stillwater fishing will come into its own and there is the drift boat fishing to look forward to.

A chance to drift a lake with the snowcapped Matroosberg as a backdrop, hopefully some larger trout and relaxed angling.

All these things are memories, snapshots of a season passed or almost passed at least. What the future holds who knows but fishing is going to be part of it, that’s for certain.

The Great East Cape

The Great East Cape … The Wild Trout Association Festival in Rhodes.

High up in the far North Eastern corner of the Cape Province, on the edge of the mountain kingdom of Lesotho sits the tiny village or Rhodes, nestled in the hills of the Southern Drakensberg range. It’s an isolated spot, serviced by dirt roads and protected by the natural barriers of high and often snow-capped peaks, well off what most people might consider to be the “beaten track”.

A little Easter Weekend Graphic frivolity.

If you are one for night life, theatres, entertainments of various kinds or even a reliable supply of electricity then it isn’t going to be your cup of tea. This is somewhere where children still arrive at school on horseback, it is a place of rugged 4 X 4 trucks, poor cellphone reception, and a shop that may or may not have the most basic of foodstuffs depending on the latest interval in a shelf restocking program that involves a lengthy drive to the Aliwal North several hours away. An unpredictable spot where the weather can turn on a sixpence and one might experience baking sun or freezing hail pretty much any month of the year. A proclaimed conservation area surrounded by remote sheep farms and not a lot else. Well not a lot else unless you are a trout fisherman, because if you are, the place boasts more running trout water than you can shake a rod at.

If this picture doesn’t make your mouth water, you aren’t a fly fisherman.

The headwaters of the mighty Orange River, South Africa’s largest river, flow down the slopes all around the village and the Wild Trout Association, a conglomeration of riparian land owners who allow angling on the waters that flow through their farms provides access to literally hundreds of kilometres of trout stream. The Bell, Sterkspruit, Bokspruit, Riflespruit, Klopperhoekspruit and other smaller streams all meander in an extensive network of prime fishing water bringing the rain waters and snowmelt down the valleys to join the Kraai River and ultimately the Orange.

Sharland Urquhart nets a fish on the Bokspruit.

In the summer months yellowfish move up into the highlands to spawn and all year round trout inhabit the clear cool waters, thriving an impressive food chain of various aquatic insects and breeding prolifically in the extensive redds of clean gravel. It is a trout’s and therefore by default an angler’s paradise.

Shadows and Clear Water on the “Bok”.

Each year the WTA (Wild Trout Association) hold their annual Fly Fishing Festival, a laid back and yet in some ways intense get together for those of piscatorial bent, where the talk is of fishing, fishing and more fishing. Although conditions can vary dramatically from frigid downpours to baking droughts the scope of the angling generally means that there is still good water to be had, irrespective of climatic conditions. One can sit in the pub at Walkerbouts, WTA guide in one hand and a glass of the good stuff in the other and select your fishing as one might select a fine wine from an expansive cellar.

Morne Liebenberg plays a fish on a very low flowing Bell River.

If the waters are low, as they were this year, one might venture further down river in search of flow, at times of high water the feeder streams high in the mountains could be the ticket. This year the wandering thunder showers which affect the valleys in a rather aberrant manner, caused some streams to become murky whilst others flowed clear. One river might be near high and dry whilst just down the road and alternative catchment will be flowing smoothly over its green hued bedrock.

In fact some anglers ventured a good way downstream to the Kraai to target some remaining yellowfish which had yet to retreat from their summer haunts in the high-country whilst others chose to wade the gin clear waters of the Bokspruit which held so many fish that nymphing became the norm simply to avoid the constant re-drying of soaked dry flies.

There is something about rural life which is as appealing as it is amusing.

All in all approximately forty anglers converged on the village to participate, there was some late night fly tying around the pub tables, a lot of idle chatter about flies and fly rods and some really great fishing.

Whether you choose to participate in the festival one year, a great introduction to the region’s angling, or simply plan to add a visit to your bucket list Rhodes and its surrounds should be in your fishing diary somewhere. Fishing guides are provided to those in need during the festival and outside of that Fred Steynberg and Tony Kietzman both provide guiding to visiting anglers. To put a South African spin on a popular book title, it really should be one of the “Fifty places to fish before you braai”..

Contact information:

http://rhodesvillage.co.za/

http://wildtrout.co.za/

http://www.walkerbouts.co.za/

http://www.linecasters.co.za/

Books available from the author of this blog from Smashwords

Tippet Mathematics

 

I wish I had had a better maths teacher at school, it would have helped with my nymph fishing.

A recent conversation with Ian Cox at the WTA trout festival got me to thinking more about something I have been considering in simple terms for some time.

We were discussing weighting of flies and anyone who has read this blog or some of my other writings on matters piscatorial will know that I get rather disillusioned with discussions of “weight” of flies. When anglers are discussing weight of flies what they are trying to do is to get them to sink faster and stay near the bottom of the current, generally in fast water. It is just that weight isn’t the answer, in my opinion density is the answer. Reference on this blog Sink Rates, Brass, Tungsten and the Great Unknown.

What I was pointing out over a beer or two was that to my mind the greatest problem for the nymph angler is the effect of the drag of the surface layers of current on the nylon and during a lengthy trip home it had my mind wandering to things mathematical. Having my mind wander towards calculus and such is a tremendously dangerous thing at the best of times.

Of course there is plenty of subjective evidence which reinforces the idea that the thinner the tippet the better the flies will sink, we all know by now that if one uses pure mono when short line nymphing the flies sink and behave completely differently to when you have thick fly line in the water. But what actually is the relationship? To be honest I didn’t know, I wasn’t sure if the relationship between tippet diameter and drag was linear, exponential, logarithmic or what and I got this bee in my bonnet to try to find out.

Here I step into the murky waters of my mathematical inadequacies so I am going to trust that I am getting things right at least mostly right.

Frontal area of tippet in the water.

What difference does it actually make to the amount of surface area dragging in the current if you change from 6X to 4X for example? Well that was fairly easy to fiddle with, admittedly tippet is round and not square but the general principle can be seen in the attached diagrams. Roughly speaking for each X factor you go thicker you gain some 25% to 30% of frontal area in the water. These figures were calculated for Stroft, one imagines in less scientific nylons the results may well be worse.

That isn’t really very complicated but when you consider that fishing at a metre down (assuming that it is straight down, which of course it won’t be), jump from 4lb breaking strain Stroft to 6.6lb and the frontal area in the current increases by 600 square millimetres, which is a square approximately 2.4 cm on each side.

To scale this is what the frontal areas of 1 metre of various tippet material looks like.

Graphically represented below, this is what 600 square mm looks like compared to a standard match box, The white area is 600 square mm, (the difference in frontal area between1 metre of the 4lb and 6.6lb nylon as set out above). Would you be happy tying half a match box to your leader and then trying to fish a nymph with it?  Or more to the point, why bother with tying a slim Czech nymph if you are going to stick it on the end of a piece of nylon that far exceeds the size of the fly in terms of surface area in the water. Remember this is the difference between 4lb and 6.6 lb not the total area in the water, that is almost treble.

Reducing the diameter of your tippet could do more to enhance the sink rate and control of your subsurface patterns than anything else. It is something of which I have been firmly convinced for some time. When anglers keep on about adding more and more 4mm tungsten beads to their flies I know that they would do a whole lot better to reduce the tippet diameter that they are using. It makes a far more significant difference but I have never previously seriously considered the maths. I could still be wrong, it seems a helluva lot of area to me and I have checked my figures over and over. If I have cocked it up, please let me know but I strongly suspect that this is the actual reality of fishing thicker nylon and when seen like this it is more than a little disconcerting.

I do realise that there are a heap of factors beyond this, the current slows nearer to the bottom, the tippet it round and not square, the current varies and whilst sinking at least the tippet can go straight down. But then again once hanging in the current it is pretty much fully in the face of the effects of the moving water. With all those things taken into consideration I still think that it is a massive anomaly which most anglers don’t consider. They sit at home lashing lead and tungsten to their flies without so much as a thought for the tippet. Maybe it is time to change that.

Drag: (I am really exceeding my limitations on this one)

If I managed somehow to roughly calculate the area of the tippet in the water the equations for drag left me standing. There are all manner of factors, including the velocity of the fluid (water), the speed of the fluid (current in the river), turbulence (behind the object, in this case the tippet), the drag coefficient of the object (the nearest I could find was a sphere with a coefficient of 0.45)

It should already be patently apparent that I am a very long way from a mathematician never mind an engineer.

The equation for drag is apparently: F_D=½CpAv²

Where F_D is Drag Force
C is the Drag Coefficient of the object.
p is the Fluid Density

A is the frontal area

And V is the velocity.

Of course I am not particularly interested in the actual drag force, just the relationship between area, current speed and drag.

So with my limited mathematical capabilities it would appear that the relationship between drag and area is linear. The more area you have in the system the more drag you are going to get, increase the area by 30% (as in going up a tippet size) and you will increase the drag by an equivalent amount. (at least that is the way it looks to me).

On the other hand if you increase the velocity of the current there is a square relationship, double the current speed and quadruple the drag. That is a whole different ball game.

In pondering this little lot it strikes me in very simple terms that your tippet diameter when fishing sunken flies is a very very significant factor and not only that but as the current speed increases so it becomes even more significant in a squared mathematical relationship.

Which probably explains why as current speed increases you quickly become unable to fish deep flies with an indicator and as it increases further you become unable to do so with a Czech nymph rig and finally you end up on pure mono or even braid in a desperate attempt to keep those carefully fashioned tungsten tidbits down there near the fish.

It is indeed food for thought and no doubt some wag will be suggesting we take flow metres and micrometres with us on the stream. I am not suggesting that, what I am suggesting, and I would tentatively venture have proven, is that the diameter of your tippet has a massive effect on the way your flies fish and that the thinking angler should be more aware of that than I suspect most of us are.

I have been fly fishing for a long time and contemplating all this to some degree or other for much of that and the graphic examples truly shocked me.

Your thoughts are most welcome as indeed are your mathematical brains, if I am missing something please don’t be shy to share. I have been vilified before, it is a risk I take when combining limited maths skills, a passion for fishing and a drop of scotch.

Ten Lessons from Tiny Trout

Ten lessons from tiny trout.

I recently spent ten days in Rhodes, it isn’t exactly the same as “Seven Years in Tibet” but probably closer than you may imagine. The place could be the “Centre of the Universe” but you are hard pressed to find: bread, deodorant or even a pack of smokes on some days. The bottle store is so called because it has a bottle or two in it but don’t expect 15 year old single malts, actually scratch the idea of Scotch entirely. Brandy is available in limited vintage, it isn’t something you would worry too much about diluting with cola and the rivers were for the most part about as dry as the off-license.

That said there was some tremendous fishing, a lot of small fish, OK perhaps too many small fish but it did offer ample opportunity to experiment and when I am not guiding experimentation is something that I love to do on a river.

So, as the British Government are apt to recite on a regular basis, generally after some monumental cock up on in the health system or similar, “Lessons were be learned”, and they will stand me in good stead for the future.

The Festival is about fun and learning.

Lesson #1: Good presentation is Good Presentation.

It mattered not that the fish were tiny and quite probably more naïve than a virgin on wedding night, they still responded a lot more positively to good drag free drifts, lack of line shadow and all the other things that go with that. In brief you can never short cut presentation.

Lesson #2: Tastes vary.

On one day these little fish would respond well to a dry fly and the next to a nymph or a soft hackle, you just didn’t know which. Playing with combination rigs of dry and dropper I found that if they kept on hitting the dry you could forego the subsurface pattern, but if they didn’t you would do very well to leave it on. On top of that if the soft hackle didn’t produce a slightly heavier 2mm tungsten bead nymph would often produce a few more fish or perhaps on occasion the first one from a run. It paid to keep at it and ring the changes even if the water looked too low to throw a subsurface pattern at all.

We were blessed with low but crystal clear water.

Lesson #3: A response to a fly isn’t a hook up.

These small trout would get such a rush of blood to the head if they had a large dry fly land anywhere near them that they would attack it with glee. Trouble is that they would frequently miss the fly and on one notable occasion a fish missed the fly in an act of suicidal youthful exuberance and landed on the bank anyway, I did mention that the water was low didn’t I? Yes that low!!

Lesson #5: Be efficient.

The smaller fish were grabbing the dry on occasion so frequently that one spent nearly the whole day trying to dry it off. I found that by fishing very small but visible flies as indicators I would pick up the odd fish on the top but they would then often take the nymph or soft hackle, getting a better hook up and avoiding that endless shaking of damp morsels in the top ride powder.

Catch and Release is the norm on these waters.

Lesson #6: Strike sideways.

Small fish offer little by way of resistance when you strike, they are too small and weigh too little to give the required opposition to set the hook. By striking low and sideways I managed to greatly increase the hook ups of the tiddlers and at the same time never missed a bigger fish. It would seem that a low strike drags the fish through the water, providing more to pull against and for longer allowing the hook to set properly. I am trying to adapt to that for all my fishing, it seemed remarkably effective.

Lesson #7: Sharp Hooks are happy hooks.

Yes I have said that before, but with small fish and light tackle it was all the more apparent and every fly got a good working over with the hook sharpener. On a couple of occasions the clients (when I had some) inadvertently tied on flies with micro barbs, when they hooked a trout with those, and that wasn’t too often because barbs are an anathema to good hook ups on light gear, it was a dreadful struggle to remove the offending metal. Barbs are nasty little things, bad for hook ups, bad for the trout and bad for you if you stick one in your ear. Barbs are best removed or barbless hooks used for all trout fishing and no doubt a good deal of other situations too.

Guide Tony Kietzman casts on a very low Bell River.

Lesson #8: Casting is important:

You simply cannot fish well and effectively if you can’t cast well. Poor casting results in poor presentation, poor line control, lots of tangles and a whole lot less fish. Every “client” I guided over the course of the WTA festival caught a good deal less fish than they might have simply because their casting wasn’t up to scratch. It’s silly because casting is the one thing that you actually can practise away from the river. Casting is king actually, learn to do it well, ingrain it and forget it. Not only will you catch a LOT more fish but you will enjoy your angling a heap more to boot.

Lesson #9: The 1%’ers count.

By combining sharpening of hooks, long leaders, 8X tippet, matted down rod blanks, careful presentations and sideways strikes as well as doing all I could to dissuade the fish from eating the dry fly where possible I did on one occasion land 160 trout in a day. That is a helluva lot of fish and although naïve and small fish for the most part it just showed that the little things add up more than you may imagine when fishing. Fly fishing hasn’t got a great deal to do with luck, it has to do with playing the percentages, focusing on good technique and thinking the problems through. I haven’t fished much of late so the past week or so was a wonderful opportunity to “get my eye in”. I am better prepared now and feeling more confident than I have in a while. I don’t wish to spend my life beating up baby trout but it proved a worthwhile exercise none the less.

Even the better fish weren’t that large but it was all great fun.

Lesson #10: Friends are as important as the fishing.

My time in Rhodes afforded me the opportunity to meet up with old friends and make some new ones. To the old ones “it was lovely to see you again” to the new ones “thanks for participating and being amenable to learning something”. Fly Fishing is a great sport, it is in my blood but for all the fish it is the people who make it special. Dedicated, perhaps a little obsessive, passionate and suffering mostly from some form of OCD, you are all appreciated. Thanks for the memories.

Further information:

The WTA festival is held each year at the same time, centred in Rhodes in the Eastern Cape Highlands. Participation affords access to hundreds of kilometres of fly fishing water, guides are available for those in need of them and the entire weekend is simply an immersion in the passion of fly fishing. For more information contact Dave Walker at Walkerbouts dave@walkerbouts.co.za

Read an eBook Week

This week, up until March 9th is the Annual Smashwords “Read an eBook promotion”, providing people with the option of downloading books of all types from fiction to non fiction at discount prices. There are loads of books, even free ones to suit every taste and if you are new to electronic books the promotion offers you a great opportunity to test the waters at low cost. Mind you, electronic books are generally cheaper in the first place, they also provide all manner of advantages to traditional books.

• They are available near instantly (no going to the shopping centre, parking the car or dodging the traffic)
• They are more eco-friendly (no shipping, no chopping down trees)
• They are more easily searched (you don’t need to fold down the corners to find your favourite bits)
• They are available in numerous formats to suit whatever devices you have from.pdf files to Kindle editions.
• They offer the advantages of both internal and external links and even video something that no paper book can provide.
• They are instantly available anywhere in the world with an internet connection.
• And probably more important to me than you, the author who has slaved over the graphics and content and shared their input, knowledge or literary skill actually gets some remuneration for their efforts, unlike the pathetic pennies offered up by traditional publishers.

So why not try a eBook today?

You can search for titles on all manner of subjects on www.smashwords.com and for those with a distinct piscatorial bent interested in fly tying, fly casting and tackle rigging I provide you unashamedly with links to my on line books all discounted for this week on the Smashwords website. Just click on the image to be transported to the relevant page.

Don’t forget to use the special promotional code to get your discount. !!

You can even see a preview of the some of the content of the books before purchase, by following the relevant links.

FREE: Who Packed Your Parachute:

Yes this one is always free not just this week and it provides some great information on tying Parachute Fly Patterns. If your parachute patterns are troublesome to tie and tend to fall to bits it makes for a great investment. Better than great because it will cost you zip!!!

Review comments “Who Packed your Parachute”: This simple little booklet has proved a real winner. I have always had problems with parachute flies falling to bits after a fish or two. Rolston’s insights and descriptions have changed the way that I tie flies and there won’t be any going back to the old ways for me. If you are a fly tyer you are going to love this simple explanation of how to make your parachute flies more durable, more imitative and faster to manufacture.

50% OFF: Learn to Fly-Cast in a Weekend:

Originally published in soft cover and now out of print this book in electronic format provides explanations as to how fly casting really works and more importantly a pile of exercises which you can do in the garden to improve your casting skills. 80% of the clients I guide would catch a lot more fish if their casting was up to scratch. Now you can get that monkey off your back at a ludicrously low cost or give the book as a gift to anyone anywhere in the world using the gifting option.

Review comments: Learn to Fly-Cast in a Weekend:

I’ve finished Learn to Flycast in a Weekend and I have to say this book is a must have for every fly fisherman whether you think you’re casting is perfect or not. It will help you get rid of all of those bad habits and teach you a new way to better your casts, timing and eventually distance accuracy. if you are a new caster this book is for you. You can have the technique down in four sessions and believe me when I tell you, you won’t need any lessons afterwards. A true find and as I said a must have.

50% OFF: Essential Fly Tying Techniques

A book that has been described as “A World First”, the original on disc contains embedded video of all the techniques as well as graphic and written descriptions of numerous essential techniques and a number of different and highly effective fly patterns. The electronic version provides links to the very same video clips and all the same graphics and instructions. A book for novice fly tyers and containing a lot of tips that may well help the old hands as well.

Review comments “Essential Fly Tying Techniques”: some amazingly simple techniques that make ALL the difference to things that I have been battling with for ages e.g. tying posts are now so much less messy and complicated.

50% OFF: An AFTMA Fairytale

A compendium of some of the most popular posts on The Fishing Gene Blog, light reading but some useful information too, just the thing for a rainy day when the season is closed or the rivers in flood.

Review comments “An AFTMA Fairytale”: I loved this….it is warm and funny. Tim’s anecdotes are amusing and informative, beautifully written little gemstones containing many lessons from years of experience and true passion. You learn and smile at the same time, the sign of a great teacher.

50% OFF:  100 Tips, Tricks and Techniques of tackle rigging. 

Tips, tricks and techniques that will help you enjoy your fishing more, catch more fish and be better prepared on the water. Filled with graphics of knots and other tips to make you a more effective angler.

Review comments for 100 Tips… Full of simple easy-to-follow tips that are a great help and clearly have stood the test of time in the hands of an expert and dedicated fisherman. Great for reference and dipping into.
The diagrams are some of the best I have seen.
Strongly to be recommended.

So whether you choose to download a copy of one of my books or someone elses, give eBooks a try, for those of us hell bent on instant gratification you can be reading your new tome in a matter of minutes..