Yorkshire Fly Fishing Blog

Haven’t put anything up on the blog for ages,  been holed up in an opium den in Marrakesh trying to find creative inspiration. Time to get blogging again, but not much to tell..for now. I went up to Beaverdyke yesterday and fished for about an hour and a half, primarily to just get some fresh air. The resevoir is quite low at the moment which is something you can use to your advantage.

When the water’s this low you can see more of the terrain you normally fish over, and pinpoint underwater features that look ‘fishy’.

Didn’t catch anything but there were some fish moving, taking something just under the surface. The only fly activity I saw was a hatch of tiny black flies…smuts maybe? Even if they weren’t smuts..it’s good to get the word SMUT into the blog because it might get us more hits ; - )

Well,  we got back yesterday from our annual fishing holiday, man it’s depressing to leave Assynt to face the day to day shyte of the 9 to 5 existence. It was possibly one of our best trips away, weather was excellent, plenty of fish caught and the cottage we booked was bang on. I kept some notes on our activities during the week (contrary to suggestions I was detailing revenge-worthy food stealing/noisy eating incidents). Read on for exciting tales of flyfishing, daring-do and epic crisp/single-malt consumption.

Friday 26th June

10:00 a.m. Bob, Phil and Stu Depart Otley only 2 hours later than planned, Discovery packed to the roof.

10:05 a.m. No smoking rule comprehensively broken. Precedent set for rest of holiday.

Arrived at Red Squirrel campsite Glencoe late afternoon. Tents pitched in record-time, including Stu’s miniature self-abuse pod. Evening spent in Clacaig Inn followed by campfire back at Red Squirrel, 10 year old Isle of Jura and several petrol incidents.

Clacaig Inn

Red Squirrel Campsite

Saturday 27th June

View from cottage

Bags unpacked, we descended upon the Caberfeidh pub/restaurant for venison burger and a few pints. Returned to cottage for Father Ted and single malts.

Sunday 28th June

Awoke at 9 a.m, finally left cottage at 11:50 after numerous cups of tea, smokes and Johnny Cash for 1st day of fishing. Weekly permits for Assynt purchased (£30 each - bargain!). Drove out to viewpoint car park and short walk over to Loch Sgeireach. A small loch, but rumoured to contain above average sized trout and judging by the fish we saw jumping out this rumour is true, but apart from one offer, none of us touched a thing.

Following arrival of final member of our party, (another Stu, who I shall henceforth refer to as Smithers to avoid confusion) we gave up on Sgeireach and drove down to the Stour peat track where Phil could get gripped and sorted with his Land Rover. We fished Loch na h-Uidhe Doimhne from the bank and in float tubes (fish above average, some knocking on for 1lb) and Loch Poll Dhaidh from the bank (fish not as big).

Monday 29th June

Awoke 9ish to rain, left cottage around 12:30…it’s becoming clear that this is another fishing holiday where having breakfast and making a packed lunch consumes vast swathes time. After driving out to a farmhouse on the Inverpolly estate to collect petrol tank and pay for permits we headed up to Loch Sionascaig. This spectacular piece of water is 3 miles long, up to 180ft deep in places,  and surrounded by peaks which make for a very pleasing backdrop.Thankfully the weather had cleared up allowing us unfettered views of this stunning loch.  We initially motored down to the far end and did several drifts which produced a few fish

Far end of Sionascaig

Stu struggles with the concept of fishing the drift

We moored up at this end to have lunch and drop Phil off for his solo ascent of Cul Mor (3 hour round trip IIRC). The remainder of us walked along to the loch linked by a short ‘river’ to Sionascaig (Sandy Loch??). This is another beautiful piece of water, and we all managed to catch some fish, typically small brownies and all close in to the bank.

Sandy Loch

Another view of Sandy Loch

Another view of Sandy Loch!!

Crockett and Tubs chasing down crisp smugglers

Drifting again...

Typical rocky point on the shoreline where you'll find fish

Loch a' Mhiotailt

Cooking on Veyatie

Golden hour on Veyatie

West Coast...Scotland

 Once we’d finished frolicking on the beach and picking up crabs, our mission was back on track and we hit Drumbeg loaded for bear. Permits were obtained, followed by a swift pint then a ride out to ‘Location X’ where we parked up and began a long, sweaty walk in some of the most humid conditions I’ve ever taken a long sweaty walk in. We arrived at the secret loch only to be hit by a rainshower but at least it cooled us down and it certainly didn’t stop us fishing, spurred on by daydreams of these massive fish. As we began wetting lines,  two RAF Tornados put in an appearance before departing as quickly as they arrived, leaving behind the deep, rolling thunder of their RB199 afterburners to bounce off the hillsides. Dear reader, I nearly fell off a rock with excitement - other than breasts and fish, few things excite me more than military aircraft.

Descending clouds

I had excellent sport fishing a couple of wet flies on an intermediate, bringing 8 to the hand, and losing many many more. Note the phrase “to the hand”, for at no point was a net needed! 3 of these beautiful little fish would struggle to make a pound, although one or 2 were approaching the half pound. I had initially been fishing the intermediate on the deeper ’shelves’…why is it that something deep within a man’s mind equates deeper water to bigger fish? I was convinced that this would be the way forward but I caught nothing down deep, the fish I hit were all maybe 1 or 2 feet down maximum.

So no big fish were caught. Maybe the rumours were just that, or maybe someone had been fortunate enough to find himself on this loch at the right time, in the right conditions, when all the planets were in line, when all the big fish stirred, and had experienced a brief excursion into heaven. We ended our day with a few pints and some of Stu’s homemade curry. Christ, I sound like a child writing an essay on what they did over the summer holiday where the story always wraps up with “…and then we all went home for tea”.

2nd July

The heat, oh this God-foresaken jungle heat. And those incessant drums…WHY DON’T THEY JUST GET IT OVER AND DONE WITH AND ATTACK?

Recollections may take a turn for the worst now, I gave up writing notes after the 1st July so I’m relying on my memory.Thursday  began with more baking hot, humid conditions. After breakfast we were visited by naked female bagpipers and hunted buffalo into near extinction using only paperclips and carrier bags, if I remember correctly. Today was scheduled to be one of the highlight of this year’s annual fishing trip (bagpipers aside),  consistng of boat-fishing Fionn Loch and climbing Suilven. We were excited, but it didn’t stop us being spectacularly behind schedule once again.

We debussed in the car park alongside the River Kirkaig, taking great care not to electrocute ourselves on the overhead powerlines, and began the steady walk up to Fionn. It’s a pleasant hour long walk, taking you through woodland glades and out into open moorland and swathes of bracken, with the river polling down through the gorge on your right.

Path to Fionn

By pleasant hour long walk I mean furnace hot temperatures frying your brain as you pick up ticks and cleggs from the bracken whilst humping a sack of sh*t on your soaking wet back, because man oh man was it was warm today. Like walking into God’s hairdryer. As we neared the Falls of Kirkaig, Phil took a moment away from sucking the life out of his Camelbak to openly pray for rain.

Reaching the outflow from Fionn, we downed tools and hit the provisions. Tunnocks Ho! Munching away, we couldn’t help but notice a 10-stop ND GRAD filter had been placed over the previously benign sky. Over to our right a frightening collection of cumulo-bastards were gathering over Cul Mor, Cul Beag and Stac Pollaidh,  it looked like we might get some rain, perhaps Phil’s prayers had been listened to?

It might rain

 A couple of raindops were detected, we clearly were in for a shower and we decided it might be time to don waterproof jackets. I’d barely fastened mine up before the real rain began..I hesitated for about 20 seconds..weighing up pros and cons of either donning waterproof trousers or letting shower pass over and let the inevitable post storm sun quickly dry my lightweight walking trousers. BAD IDEA! Seconds later we found ourselves line abreast, cowering with our backs turned against the perfect storm. The rain, driven by a ferocious wind, stung through jackets, it soaked my legs in seconds and ran like a tap into my boots. Calamitous thunder accompanied forked lightning which occasionally struck the peaks of Suilven. The very Suilven that myself and Phil were supposed to be atop by now, if the schedule had been adhered to. We endured this, one of the worst thunderstorms we’d ever seen, for an hour until finally the rain diminished to a fine drizzle. Which allowed the midges to come out in force. FFS! As we sloshed over to where the boat was moored up, the rain actually stopped altogether and within minutes, dry patches began to appear on my walking trousers. Hooray! We clambered into the boat and motored up the loch, yours truly let out all of his intermediate line behind the boat to test it. I wasn’t trolling you understand, no way man, just making sure my line was okay. As luck would have it I caught a brownie, not far off the half-pound mark whilst trolling testing my line. Bonus! We resumed the journey and not long after I had another bump on the line. This time it was a char, a beautiful red-bellied char.

Fionn Char

Check out that belly!

 After returning Charlie Char to the dark Scottish loch, the weather came back with a vengence, strong wind and rain (again). Game over man, it was now clear that the ascent of Suilven was off the cards and furthermore, the pub was calling. We motored back to shore and un-assed our stuff from the boat. The rain stopped and the sun came out. Hmmm..maybe it’s worth staying after all? Then the rain started again. We gave up and grimly headed back down, but soon perked up after fish and chips in the Caberfeidh restaurant washed down with a few beers, and a sustained assault on the single malts back at the cottage.

 July 3rd

Last full day in Assynt. Ugh. These holidays go too quick. Today we split into 2 groups, Piggy and Smithers took the conch and fished Loch Beanach and Loch Borraland,  whilst myself and Phil decided to return to Fionn and climb Suilven, sh*t or bust!  The yomp up to the Loch wasn’t quite as sweltering this time, conditions were slightly overcast but there was no rain. We made good time and were soon at the boat which we used to motor up the loch to save a mile of walking, I tested my line out the back again but nothing ‘eventful’ happened this time. Venison and cranberry pies from the Lochinver Larder were demolished then we began the coss country yomp over to the base of Suilven.

Suilven viewed from Fionn

 Luckily we manage to jump on a sheep/deer track that had obviously been picked up and used by fellow bipeds as a route to Suilven, which proved easier going than the ankle-bothering tussock-infested terrain. Gradually the terrain ascends until you get near the foot of Suilven, then things start getting harder. I have to say, this struck me as an odd place to find a foxglove.

Foxglove

The path

Steep

 But the views keep on getting better

Veyatie

Sionascaig (big one in distance) and Fionn

Until finally, after what I personally found to be the most taxing ascent I’ve ever done, you reach the top of the ’saddle’ and can see over the other side.

T'other side

We had a quick 5 minute chill on the saddle, then set off to climb up to the summitt. I happened to spot a couple of deer a little below us on the reverse slope and couldn’t help but wonder what on earth those 2 idiots were doing all the way up here. Simultaneously, 2 deer on the slopes of Suilven looked up above them…one says to the other…

Deer (just visible)

It’s a bit of a scrabble up to the summitt, and where it narrows we had to keep low to avoid getting blown off

path to summitt

Summitt!

 The views from the top were spectacular, although the hazy conditions weren’t ideal for photography. Didn’t stop us clicking away like Japanese tourists, but eventually we ran out of manly poses to pull on the cairn and made our way back to the ’saddle’. Phil then proceeded to ‘bag’  2  of the other 3 peaks on Suilven whilst I stay put, sprawled out on the solitary grassy knoll, staring up at the heavens and contemplating life, death and the universe whilst smoking Malboro Lights. Definitely one of ‘those’ moments.

The descent was a damn sight quicker than the way up, but care still has to be taken - mess it up and you’ll be a bundle of broken bones, to be very, very, very slowly consumed by the ‘venus flytrap’ type plants we stumbled upon.

Venus fly-trap type thingy

Skipping through the heather we arrived back on the shores of Fionn to be greeted by rising fish and an aggressive jagdgeschwader of midges. Despite wearing our trusty midge-net hats, we could only tolerate the tiny assassins long enough to catch a brownie each, before getting out of Dodge quick-sharp. But, as ever, they were stunning little fish!

Another Fionn resident

July 4th

After extensive admin, we left our lovely cottage with heavy hearts, soiled livers and acute crisp poisoning. But thakfully the holiday wasn’t quite finished. A lengthy drive brought us down to a little village near Pitlochry in Perthshire, called Kinloch Rannoch where we stopped off to neck a swift pint and purchase permits for Loch Eigheach (the former objective proved easier to complete than the latter). We’d fished Eigheach in 2006 when, despite it being about 30 miles from Glencoe as the crow flies, we had to drive for 2 hours to get there, and then promptly baffled the locals with our request for information on Loch “Aye-Gak”. Back to 2009….resisting the temptation to get drunk, we drove on, past the shores of mighty Loch Rannoch until we reached our destination. Eigheach doesn’t have the jaw droppng beauty of some of the Assynt lochs, but it was a good break point for the journey home and is by no means unattractive. We parked up , yomped down to the water’s edge with a mighty payload of tents and provisions and spent a considerable amount of time trying to find a suitably dry and flat piece of ground for 3 tents. We made do with a tiny triangle of only slightly marshy turf next to a bottomless pool, and a stream.

Tent city

Eigheach

Piscatorially (is that a word? it is now) our luck run out on Eigheach. So did the single malt. We caught no fish, but succeeded in getting plastered around a blazing campfire, descending into evermore philosophical conversations whilst a succession of shooting stars puncuated the inky black night sky. I can think of few finer ways to end a holiday.

Only 11 days to go till wild fly fishing heaven. On Friday 26th June I’ll be hitting the road and driving up to Assynt to fish in a true wilderness. Bring it on!

After a hard day not catching fish and getting a numb backside at Ladybower on Saturday, I decided to spend Sunday afternoon at Beaverdyke Reservoir in the hope of restoring my fishing confidence.

When I got up to the reservoir the wind was blowing from right to left and onto the dam wall, I decided to fish Goose Bay on the far side of the reservoir to try and get a bit of shelter from the wind. Whilst walking round the reservoir I bumped into Steve Rhodes of goflyfishinguk.com who was giving some fly fishing lessons to a couple of novice anglers. His clients were fishing for the first time and were mainly learning the fine art of casting a fly line, however they’d still managed to catch a fish so I was optimistic about my own chances!

After having the obligatory cig and a chat with Steve I walked up to Goose Bay. Before I start fishing I always sit and watch the water for a few minutes, usually having another rollup and a cup of tea! This period of observation paid off as I saw a fish head and tail on a mayfly and this decided my tactics for me. I tied on a detached body mayfly and had a fish on my first cast, result!

I managed to catch another couple of fish before it all switched off. I then had a few casts for the Brown Trout on John O Gaunts Reservoir but I couldn’t tempt them. Nevertheless it was a good afternoon and it felt good to get my string pulled after a blank day at Ladybower.

I didn’t have a landing net with me so I didn’t get a picture of the fish but below is a picture of the dam at Beaverdyke as seen from Goose Bay.

This weekend myself and Bob paid a visit to Ladybower Reservoir. It’s not actually in Yorkshire but it’s just on the edge so we thought it was about time we fished the place and got it up on the main site.

Ladybower Reservoir

After taking the wrong junction off the M1 we spent about an hour trying to get out of Sheffield, it’s time to invest in a sat nav!

When we finally arrived at Ladybower we parked up and went to the office to get a boat sorted. After parting with just shy of £35 for an afternoon ticket it struck me that the fishery manager was, to put it bluntly, a miserable bastard!

He was obviously not one for conversation, any attempt at it by myself was met with blank stares and grunts. When you’ve got a job most anglers would kill for why not show a bit of enthusiasm!

I’m sure he gets sick to death of anglers asking the same old questions but as a paying customer I feel a bit of helpful advice is part and parcel of paying to fish a large commercial water. Who knows, maybe he was just having an off day? Rant Over!

A full write up on Ladybower will be added to the main site in due course, in the meantime check out these pictures, it really is a lovely place to spend an afternoon.

Ladybower Reservoir

Ladybower Reservoir

Last weekend was the annual Roundhay Fly Fishers overnight trout fishing extravaganza. In previous years the club has visited fisheries such as Eyebrook, Esthwaite, Ravensthorpe, Pitsford and Rutland.

The normal plan for these weekends involves fishing somewhere outside of Yorkshire and spending a night in a decent pub somewhere near the chosen destination, or as was the case one year, spending a night in some damp static caravans that looked like someone had been killed inside them!

The venues of choice for 2009 were Ravensthorpe on Saturday and Rutland on Sunday. I’d never fished either of these Anglian Water Reservoirs before and as Rutland is viewed as the mecca of reservoir fly fishing I was looking forward to it.

I woke early on Saturday to discover it was freezing cold, windy and pissing it down, unfortunately it continued to piss it down nearly all weekend! British Summertime!

Upon arrival at Ravensthorpe we were told by the warden that the flies that were doing the damage were damsels. My local water (Beaverydyke) doesn’t really have a damsel hatch and I don’t have many of these in my fly box, as a result I had to tie on a pretty shoddy damsel imitation that I tied years ago when I was a novice.

The morning session didn’t result in any fish but it did result in a pretty thorough drenching for all concerned. We retired for lunch and the chance to get warm and learned that the rest of our party hadn’t faired much better. 8 anglers had caught 3 fish, the prospects for the afternoon looked bleak!

In the afternoon we tried a drift on the opposite side of the Reservoir and we finally got amongst some fish. My scratty damsel accounted for 5 fish to the net and a few decent takes, it seems I underestimated my tying prowess!

My Dad was fishing a klinkhammer and a suspended nymph New Zealand style and was getting almost an offer nearly every cast. He then switched to a small green muddler and a damsel and ended up with 15 fish and as many again that came off or missed the muddler. It really was top quality reservoir fly fishing, however it should be bloody good for £55 a day!

It turned out to be a really good session, the fish at Ravensthorpe are fantastic, they fight like absolute bloody stink and it takes an age to get their heads up and get them in the net.

We finished fishing at about 6:30 and retired to the pub for some fodder and a few ales. I thought bring on Rutland Water on Sunday for more of the same!

Unfortunately Sunday turned out to be an absolute stinker. We woke to a miserable dark grey morning. After we’d had a full english and convinced ourselves it wouldn’t be all that bad, it started to rain heavily, it was also properly cold and windy. We decided to go to Rutland and judge the conditions upon arrival.

When we got to Rutland it was still raining and it was still windy, the lady in the tackle shop said it was forecast to get worst as the day went on. We then saw a couple of anglers walking up from the boats, they didn’t just look wet, they looked like they had fallen in!

A quick vote decided it was a bad job, we all then splurged some cash in the pretty impressive Rutland tackle shop, had a brew in the equally impressive Lakeside Cafe and headed back oop north!

British Weather 1 Roundhay Fly Fishers 0

More new content added to the main site in the fly tying section. Have a read of Bob’s guide to tying his Swinsty Special Lure.

Swinsty Special Lure

Wonders will never cease! I’ve finally uploaded some new content to the main site, this long awaited update is a review of Crabtree Angling Lake near Richmond, North Yorkshire.

Read the review

Crabtree Angling Lake

First outing of the year for the Roundhay Fly Fishers! Bearing in mind the windy conditions, I’d call it a success. Everyone caught fish, and as is always the case at Wykeham, they were good fish at that! Yours truly had 6 to the net, mainly on buzzers but the brownie pictured belowe came to a damsel on an intermediate. As you can see, I’d just dismounted from a horse before having the picture taken.

Special needs...

However, about 10 minutes later Fishfinder-General,  John North, hooked and landed the biggest brownie any of us have ever seen. Because of its size, and the energy it had clearly expended during the fight, it wasn’t lifted out of the net for the classic money shot photo but hopefully you can still get an idea of it’s size from the pictures below.

Look at the size of that thing!

Andy, clearly disgusted at the sight of John's shocking pink egg fly in the fish's jaws

It weighed in at 8lb once we’d deducted weight of net. A cracking brownie by anyone’s standards.

Fellow members of Yorkshire Anglers….just a few pics to whet your appetite for the new season!