Yorkshire Fly Fishing Blog

Tanfield

7th May saw RFF once again at West Tanfield.   On this occasion, through a Herculean effort, I managed to get to Tanfield Lodge by about 9:15. This required getting out of bed at 6:45am, and making sandwiches the night before. Considering it only takes about 45 minutes to get there, I’m not sure why I wasn’t there much earlier. It just seems to be how I roll, as they say.

Down on the lake,  conditions weren’t as bad as I expected. There was very little wind, no sign of rain, and my relatively early arrival meant I could pick the best spot before the others arrived. I plotted up in a spot on the wooded shoreline that consistently brings success to all who fish it. I think we can all see where this is going….

Within 20 minutes of wetting a line, a strong North Easterley picked up and made casting hard, and began numbing my poor little handie pandies. More anglers began to arrive and the majority set up shop on the other shore, and began catching fish. “Wa-hey! Fish on my 1st cast!” I heard someone shout. My buzzer/nymph combo swung round with the bitterly cold wind, unmolested and unloved. I hate flyfishing, I really do.

There’s a bit in Top Gun where Maverick informs Goose he’s “had just about enough of this shit” and  proceeds to pull a ‘crazy’ maneuvre in order to get on his opponent’s tail. Well that’s where I was at, just without the film-star good looks. I put up my spare rod with a sinking line and a fritz lure, and nearby anglers winced as I stripped line off my old Shakey Graphlite which sounds like a hysterical dying rabbit.

"Fry imitation"

After a few minutes of fan casting with this beastly creation I hooked into a nice rainbow which fought extremely well. 2 more fish had a go at it but didn’t stay on, then takes dried up. I moved down to the island at the far end of the lake but quickly got a bad feeling about this ‘bay’ and carried on moving round the lake, onto the opposite shore, where the wind was more of a help than a hindrance…kind of.

T'other side

 Success on the floating line continued to elude me, but the minute I returned to the sinking line with my Fritz ‘fry imitation’ I had 2 offers followed by another rainbow to the net. When lunchtime came I headed up towards the fishing hut but just had to stop off to fish the bay on the other side of the ’spit’ when I saw several fish rising to myriad hawthorn flies which were deing deposited onto the water. A fellow club member had been having a desperate half-hour trying to tempt them but to no avail. He didn’t have my secret weapon, my sexy black hoppers…those straggly, kinked legs are a pretty good hawthorn imitation! Sure enough, I eventually hooked into something but it pinged off. I went to recast but immediately snagged a tree behind me. I pulled for a break, then tied on a new tippet and another sexy black hopper and went to recast. Something wasn’t right. Sigh. I’d tied the new section of leader onto some discarded nylon.

After lunch I headed straight back down to ‘Hawthorn corner’ and this time managed to outwit a nice 2lb rainbow with a hare’s ear nymph. I also landed a nice little brownie whilst fishing off the spit out onto the main lake. This too came to the floating line outfit albeit it with a goldhead buzzer.

Wee brownie

By 5:30 I’d had enough, my grand total of 4 fish to the net was hopelessly outlcassed, another trophy lost!

+++++++++ STOP PRESS +++++++KIPLIN HALL NOW A COARSE FISHING SYNDICATE++++++

 16th April was scheduled to be the 1st official outing of 2010 for the band of misfits, sexual deviants and criminals that maketh the Roundhay Fly Fishers. We were all set for a return visit to Kiplin Hall when startling news arrived from one of our forward elements that Kiplin Hall is no longer a fly fishing venue, it’s now leased by a coarse fishing syndicate. Fortunately, a club meeting was scheduled for the evening of the 15th. Ideas were run up the flagpole and the decision was made to carry on with our day out , simply changing the venue to West Tanfield.

Yours truly awoke early on D-Day, earlier than a normal work day, and yet by the time I’d had breakfast, packed bag, made flask, bought provisions (including a foot long spicy Italian sub..mmm) and driven up the A1 it was pushing 11am when I hit Tanfield Lodge. The weather was surprisingly pleasant for an RFF outing, with spring sunshine and blue skies for most of the day although the wind was still cold when it picked up.  As always, my tardiness meant all the best spots were taken but I managed to squeeze into a space on the ‘wooded’ side where several other members had plotted up.

Tanfield Lake

I was fishing next to Andy who had clearly picked the right place and was using the right fly, a black goldhead buzzer fished on a floating line with fairly long leader. I had no goldhead buzzers. I tried every other goldhead creation in my fly-box but couldn’t get a sniff. I think it was when Andy cheerfully announced he’d just struck into fish number 6 that I in turn cheerfully called him a fish-catching-bastard.  I do tend to struggle when no fish are showing. Fishing sub-surface means you’ve no indication you’re doing it right unless you feel a tug on the line whereas fishing on top you can see any activity in the vicinity of your flies. Looking at the pictures now, I’m wondering if I was actually casting too far because the action was probably concentrated fairly close in on the shelf (just visible as in picture below)

Nowt showing

Naturally, when the fish started showing I found renewed enthusiasm and this seemed to be well placed when, after tying on a sugar-cube shipmans, I hooked and landed a feisty rainbow of about 1lb 1/4. More swirls followed but no further contact was made so I changed to a size 14 parachute Adams - a fly that often works really well for me during buzzer hatches. My second cast with it was a real pearler, 25 yards, straight as an arrow with perfect turnover. The fly kissed the water, tension built, I knew it was coming …. a dark shape moved and a swirl enveloped my offering. I struck fast and hard, the rod tip dipped then sprang back. B*ll*cks, that fish felt goooood. My fly was snapped clean off along with a few inches of tippet so I must’ve had a wind knot. Luckily, I had another parachute Adams in my fly box. Unluckily, it brought no more offers, isn’t that just typical?

Post Subway, I headed back down to the lake and cheekily pushed in next to Kevin, one of RFFs most prolific fish-catchers who had been caning them out true-to-form. Sport had dropped off a bit around the lake, but Kevin was still catching the odd fish on small nymphs and buzzers, including one that I’m assuming was the biggest fish of the day at over 4lbs. I couldn’t replicate his success so in desperation put out a damsel fritz on an intermediate but even this failed me! Gaagh!

Kevin - probably about to catch another fish...

A few yards down from Kev was another success story as John struck into his umpteenth fish of the day, the pair of them were mopping up! To add to my frustration, on the other bank another John was playing a fish!

John N tying on another successful fly...sigh

John B playing a fish

I packed up in disgust and moved down to where I’d fished earlier in the morning. Now I’ve stopped smoking I don’t even have the blessed relief of firing up a roll-up so morale was low in the Bob camp. By now, there wasn’t a ripple to be seen on the water and no-one down this end of the lake was having much luck. I was tired, my casting had gone to sh*t as it always does when fatigue sets in and the 5lb Drennan mono tippett attached to my size 14 flatback CDC buzzer was floating on the surface no matter what I tried. It looked ridiculous in the flat calm but wait…what’s that…a fish swirled just next to the buzzer! 10 seconds later a text-book head and tail rise right on the nose! A momentary spurt of adrenaline was accompanied by blessed relief. Played, netted, released…that fish saved my sanity. Time to go home.

10 days into April and finally, spring appears to have sprung! It’s a beautiful warm sunny day and despite having a grim hangover I know I have to go fishing. When I arrive, there are plenty of fish moving on Beaverdyke but what little breeze there is appears to be melting away to nothing. I walked up to the far end where there were no other anglers and spent a frustrating hour or so targetting rising fish with limited success. However, it was heartstopping stuff to watch my leader slowly inch away as a rainbow lazily swam off with my Diawl Bach. I didn’t hoy the fish onto the bank for a photo, seems pretty mean if you’re putting it back

Nice fish

I landed another fish, caught on a size 18 buzzer, then things kinda switched off, so meandered up to John O’ Gaunts where I discovered a substantial, but very dead brownie.

Very dead brownie

The browns weren’t playing ball, I tried big dries, little dries, emergers, nymphs - the lot. However, I did see a weasel which came within about 4 feet of me (I had to stay very still!). Of course, the moment I moved to go get my camera he scarpered. Or maybe it was the motorized paraglider overhead that scared him off!

Motorized paraglider

Today (Sunday) seemed like it might be a nice day but by the time I got up to Beaverdyke it was pretty cold and windy. I’d spent the morning tying delicate little emergers ready for the evening rise, but maybe I should’ve just come straight up to the reservoir! Upon arrival I discovered there was also a classic car rally going on, and as part of their course cuts through Beaverdyke I took a few snaps. 

Rally

The cold wind meant very few fish were moving, although Stu did manage to catch one. Smithers (pictured below), the bald headed star of the Assynt blog did very little fishing, despite looking every inch the part and caught nothing.

Smithers

To be fair, I caught nothing either. Today seemed to have been a better day for photography than fishing so I packed in early and instead took pictures of ridiculously cute lambs. Enjoy!

"Um, Lord Vader, about these new-style Imperial Walkers...I have some concerns..."

Happy Easter!

Went up to Beaverdyke last night to fish for an hour or so, just to see out the Bank Holiday. Wind was coming from the West..hard! I tackled up a floater, 12 foot tapered leader and an experimental setup with black mini-muddler on dropper and bibio on point.  After 10 minutes I knew I was wasting my time, the fish were almost certainly deeper down. A goldhead damsel fritzy type thing went on the end and once I started leaving the fly to sink, I began to get some action. Slow ’sink and draw’ pulls did the business, in less than an hour I landed four great rainbows and none of them were under 2lbs. The last 2 were on a bead-chain damsel after losing the fritz monster to a rock on the bottom

On an unrelated note, I picked up a copy of Trout Fisherman over the weekend, for the hell of it (and to keep my mind off stopping smoking!). I stopped buying it years ago once I’d moved out of the ‘beginner stage’ but I have to say I’ve actually quite enjoyed reading it. Although some of its content is obviously still influenced by advertisers, there were some reasonably interesting articles in it and it managed to whet my appetite to fish some different places and try different techniques etc. Maybe I’m not the magazine snob I thought I was!

Brim full

As you can see there’s plenty of water in Beaverdyke at the moment, and there are also plenty of overwintered fish but last weekend saw an influx of new blood as the first of this year’s stockings took place. I happened to be up there on the day in question, putting in a couple of hours on John O’Gaunts without much success and was glad of the distraction to be honest!  It was also fortunate that I had my camera with me so I could take a few pictures for the blog, because it may interest some of you to see how we put the fish in our fishery!

The trout are transported from the fish farm in an aerated tank. This one was the second delivery of the day, and here you can see one of the Mk1 Trout Transferring Receptacles being filled with water.

New arrivals!

Fish are then netted out of the tank and transferred into (very) temporary accomodation with great care.

A good haul!

Then it’s a brisk trot down to the water and the fish are released into their new home!

Job done

All fish went in with minimum of fuss, and quickly recovered to swim away and start exploring. They should be starting to settle in nicely now, and as the water starts to warm up fishing should really pick up, especially when the buzzer hatches become more prolific. The fish will be either taking the ascending pupa somewhere in the top couple of feet, or actually in/just under the surface. The latter is what I’m all about to be honest, watching a fish actively feeding at the surface, plotting its direction (usually moving upwind) and dropping an emerger pattern where you think he’ll be next.  Fly lands, straighten leader up, pause…another rise, less than a foot away now…come on…come on, you know you want it..COME ON…little twitch to put some life into that fly….agonising few seconds…feels like an eternity..COME ON…’gloop‘…one thousand and one STRIKE… B@*#@*% …too soon..too late… who knows..just cast out again…..

BRING IT ON!!

What a long, hard, grinding winter it’s been. And hey…the nights start drawing in about 12 weeks from now - there’s a cheery thought for you all! Anyway, let’s see, what have I been up to since my last post…

Paid Beaverdyke a visit in February only to discover it was frozen over. There were a couple of pockets of water still fishable though, so I got out the lures and my intermediate line and trawled the bottom, v-e-r-y  s-l-o-w-l-y, hoping to wake a trout or two from their torpor. In actuality, all I managed to do was lose 3 flies. Still, nice to get out, it’s not about catching fish blah blah blah. I took a few pics using my phone, especially for you lot, the thousands upon thousands of dedicated followers of our blog

Ice

More Ice

Golly - More Ice!

I did however speak to another angler who said he’d still been catching fish in these conditions using a weighted montana nymph on a floating line. I’ll be tying a few of those!

I also took a walk around Swinsty in February just for something to do. Brought back memories of my 1st forays into flyfishing there, always casting into the sodding wind and catching nowt. Nothing changes eh?!

Swinsty

Fewston overflow

March hasn’t been as bad, although my first couple of trips to Beaverdyke this month were once again fishless. Yesterday was much better though, 3 overwintered rainbows to the net. The first was on a weighted nymph and the others on a small, white,  goldheaded marabou lure. All on my new floating line, a Rio Gold which I have to say I rather like! Spring definitely hasn’t sprung yet, but it can only be a week or 2 away now surely - lambing has begun, the crocuses are out and the biting cold has hopefully left us.

I stopped to chat to the sheep on my way home, but the conversation was a tad woolley and if I’m honest they didn’t seem too keema to hang around.

Larry

I also took a trip to the Scottish Borders this month, no fishing obviously but did pay a visit to a favourite loch whose name I shall not mention, just to see it in winter plumage.

Frozen loch

This was as far as I dare walk out on the ice. Don’t try this, ever!

Stupidity

I’ve had a few emails over the closed season from people who regularly visit our site (including someone from the Netherlands!) and I really do appreciate people taking the time to let us know they enjoy this little labour of love of ours! Anyway, better go and tie some Montana nymphs….

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.