Hundred House

With my Wye/Usk foundation “wild streams” annual permit I can attack any number of wild streams if they haven’t been booked for the day. The website is remarkably efficient in terms of providing notification of which streams are about to be unfished.

Today I had a plethora of choices and I have been trying to use the opportunity to gradually explore a variety of waters which I have, to date, not visited.
I have fished the Edw previously; at that time the stretch just above the village of Aberedw, and it was a tight, tree lined affair, with roll casts your best friend. But myself and my visiting mate Peter, winkled out a few fish and enjoyed the day.

Today wasn’t quite the same, underwhelming, I would suggest, because, although I can manage small fish, or dirty water, or bushed banks, or barbed wire fences, or perpetual roll casts,  or stinging nettles or lack of surface activity on the part of the trout. I would have to confess that all of those together on the same trip is a bit more than I can cope with; particularly given that I have a lot of pretty decent water (clear for a start), which I can target should I so wish.

Exploring is fine, but when you know you have better fishing outside of your door it can be difficult to potentially “waste a day”

To be fair, I already knew that, before getting into the car, it was going to be a small stream and likely a small fish day. But with this, the highest beat on the Edw, I would have expected it to be a smidgen clearer than it was. Perhaps it had been buffeted by some of the recent, and transient thunder showers which affected some catchments and not others, but it was obvious from the first peak over the bridge that it was less than perfect.

There were two tiny rises in the very first pool and I hooked and landed a juvenile brownie, tiny enough to still have distinct parr markings, pretty as a picture and a pleasure in terms of ensuring that the blank was out of play.

But then the struggle became more real, difficult to get into the water and trickier to get back out, murky slow running water reminiscent of the streams in Cornwall where I learned to fish with upstream worm and spinners as a kid, I don’t wish to regress to that, even should the rules allow! Which they most certainly don’t.

Yes I caught some fish, although all too often the strike resulted in the rod tip hitting a tree branch (there are plenty of those), and messing up the hook up, such that the fish would escape. Equally, where a full swing of the rod were possible, the fish were so tiny as to offer no resistance during the strike and for the hook to fall out before I was able to land one.

They might have been tiddlers, but they are undoubtedly pretty.

It isn’t bad fishing, it simply isn’t the type of fishing that I particularly enjoy, and as such it wasn’t the best of days. Apparently, it is a widely held belief that the days spent fishing are not deducted from one’s allotted span on this earth. I hope that is the case, because I would hate to learn that I wasted a great summer day on this water, battling trees, nettles and more, only to have one day less to enjoy the spectacular angling with which I am surrounded.

Mind you, even the most annoying/ frustrating of days has its highlights. For one thing, I have never seen so many damselflies, there were hordes of them, all along the river bank, decked out in deep and vibrant blue colours dressed up for the damselfly end of year party or something similar, one supposes.  Plus, at least I was able to fish pure dry fly and drum a few fish (albeit tiddlers) to the top, there has been a dearth of surface activity on the Wye of late, even in the midst of quite good hatches.

But the absolute highlight, and perhaps it is time to recognise that getting out on the water isn’t only about catching fish, was the otter, which swam down the river and literally under my rod tip, not feet away from me. Calmly working its way down river, far less perturbed by my being there than the sheep in the fields which seemed to run as soon as my presence was noticed.
I do love to see otters on a river, I don’t care a jot if they eat the odd fish, I haven’t seen any in the UK since my childhood. In Cape Town we saw more than a few, although, in that case they were “Cape Clawless Otters”, which have the distinction, of not only lacking toe nails but also of being the largest otters on the planet, bar the Giant Otters of the Amazon basin. So in short, it wasn’t the best of fishing days, but it was a great otter day and I am pleased with that.

There are more thunder showers predicted, so it is as yet unclear when I might get back out on the water, but when that happens I think that I will pick a beat of clear water and see what comes of the outing. There is an oddity about fishing, and perhaps particularly fly fishing. I can enjoy catching fish and I can even enjoy not catching fish. But I do like to “not catch fish” in a particular manner. For example, catching fish with tight line nymphing methods is great and although I am not the best at it, I am probably far from the worst. But NOT catching fish whilst doing the same I find boring and annoying in equal measure. NOT catching fish on dry fly I can do all day and be happy. NOT catching fish on dry fly in dirty water, sort of ends up in the same file as tight line nymphing, it simply isn’t fun, at least to me. I suppose that finding out what kind of fishing you like when NOT catching fish could be pretty important, maybe even a “mental health issue”. After all, we go fishing to relax, get away from the pressures of modern life and enjoy ourselves.

The unexpected sighting of an otter at one’s feet, or damselflies overhead is all good; even NOT catching fish, can be good, so long as one is NOT catching them in the way one would like.

So, next time out, I am going to aim to NOT catch fish in the way I would like to NOT catch them, and within that conundrum is the likelihood that I might well catch some. I might see some damselflies and even an otter, or kingfisher if I am fortunate, and should that happen, my smile will be broader, my heart lighter, and I might be happy to move a day closer to the grim reaper.

For me, I go fishing to catch fish, it never enters my head that I might not, or that I won’t try everything within my power to wet the net, even though I do have my share of “blanks”. But with that, I equally recognise that the privilege of being able to “get out there” allows one to see birds, otters, damselflies, foxes and more as well as catch some fish. I suppose in the end, what I am trying to say is that I can happily NOT catch fish, if I can NOT catch them in a clear stream and a dry fly. I can happily NOT catch fish if I see an otter or a kingfisher, or perhaps even a badger. But even then, top prize still goes to catching a fish, on dry fly, in a clear stream and still seeing the bloody otter/badger/kingfisher. When that day comes, I am going to be looking over my shoulder, for fear that the grim reaper is right behind me.

Not today, I am going fishing.

One can only reasonably expect to have a few of those days, and one of them is going to be our last, I figure that the best option is to embrace that and deal with the consequences. So here’s to clear water, rising trout, otters, badgers, damselflies, sunny summer days and more. We have one life, and it is incumbent on all of us to make the most of the day, whatever day that turns out to be.

Tags: Dry Fly Fishing, Fishing, Fishing in Wales, Fly Fishing, Not catching fish, Otters, outdoors, River Edw, Tim Rolston, Trout, Trout Fishing