Stark Contrasts

The title of this post has a simple explanation.  At home in Yorkshire it stopped raining in February and less than an inch has fallen since, against a normal average of 9 inches.  The garden is a desert and I'm struggling to keep alive the collection of specimen plants and Acers established lovingly over the past 28 years.  Virtually every plant and tree in the garden is stressed apart from the two giant walnut trees (which I'd cheerfully fell but can't without planning permission, despite planting them myself).  In stark contrast, whenever I've gone salmon fishing, it's poured down - in Norway in late June and on the Tweed in early July as I describe below.  Consequently there isn't much to say about fishing, but I have some tackle points to share.

The Orkla 22-26 June

 

The Orkla at 0400 hrs 23rd June
Langholen Pool
The sun hasn't set, it's just behind the mountains

 

As I reported last year we carried forward our booking at Grindal Lodge to 2025, helped by Krister the manager giving us the fishing for free and only charging for food and accommodation. Freebies go down well in Yorkshire.  Despite the extra costs involved, going to a catered lodge is an appropriate solution at our age, and John and Patrick had enough of my cooking.  Mindful of last year's experience of government-driven closure, every booking - flights, car hire, airport hotel - was cancellable and refundable.  This was of course more expensive, but provided protective peace of mind.  

• 
  Tip - As before I hired a golf club transport box from the local driving range at a cost of £20 to carry rods, boots and waders: as sports equipment this was on KLM's standard 23kg allowance despite its 4' length.  The rest of my clothing, reels, flies and bits fitted into a 9kg walk-on bag.
•  Tip - For more general advice on travel to and fishing in Norway, have a look at 'You want to go to Norway'.

 

Pollen cascade at +85cm
Flowing at almost 12kph - serious temperature barrier

 

 

As our departure approached the catches in the research bag nets in the fjord were poor, but not as disastrous as 2024.  Those fish that did enter the Trondheim rivers were moving slowly in the face of the effects of the coldest and wettest spring in 50 years.  On the Upper Orkla the water temperature didn't reach double figures until 24th June, making both the Bjorset hydro intake dam and the Pollen falls temperature barriers.  Catches at Grindal were low and slow, but the average size was 23lbs, a compensating encouragement.  With government-regulated catch and release in force we assessed that there was only a low risk of another outright stoppage.

 

 

The flights from Leeds to Trondheim were uneventful and we checked into the airport Radisson, where we encountered two parties outbound from their early weeks on rivers just to the north.  Both had caught average numbers and seemed broadly happy.  We picked up the hire car from Sixt first thing the next morning:

•  Tip - I had originally booked a Skoda Octavia Estate back in January on a 'pay at collection' basis.  Car hire everywhere in Europe is now very and unavoidably expensive.  However, by watching Sixt's special deals arriving in my email, a week before departure I was able to re-book a top of the range Volvo XC60 plug-in hybrid for £180 less than the Skoda.  In the event the Volvo used only 12 litres of petrol in 370 km of driving, courtesy of recharging at Grindal.

 We drove up the Orkla valley to Grindal, with snow from 10 days before still evident on the mountains to the east.  To our surprise, during the drive we didn't see a single angler on the river or car with rod clamps.  The level of fishing pressure was far below expectations for Week 26.  The general view is that mandatory C&R (killing salmon for the freezer is a deeply embedded Norwegian culture) and heavily publicised poor prospects had put the locals off.

 

 

Grindal - the view from my room

Grindal Lodge is perfectly located right beside the river, with 6 named pools within easy walking distance, and a further 11 within 10 minutes' drive.  My room was a good size, comfortable and with its own shower room across the corridor.  Our cabin also had a drying room, fitted for waders and boots.

 

The open plan main facility comprised dining and sitting areas and a bar, sized for a maximum of 24 people (12 rods with partners).  The food was excellent and the bar prices extraordinarily modest by Norwegian standards.  A small hut opposite the front door hosted a well supplied compact tackle shop, where you recorded your purchases on the honesty sheet (this is Norway!).

 

In our enthusiasm we had arrived 4 hours early.  With only a few rods out, Krister let us loose on the Home pool (Aunholen) as soon as we had finished disinfecting our waders and boots.

 

 

Aunholen on a dull first afternoon

The water was perfect and standard Norway clear.  The guide's advice was to fish a sinking line with a 15' S3 tip, with a #6 double.  He considered the MCX Dark spot on.

Aunholen is a lovely pool, with a fast neck and 250 metres of primary fishing length within sensible casting range.  The wading line ran outside the rocks in the photo and was relatively easy once you were out of the faster flow.  However, in that situation you had to strip rapidly from the dangle to avoid hooking the rocks.  It was a real pleasure to fish.

 

 

 

 

 

On my first run down the pool I inevitably hooked a rock at the dangle.  There's no point pulling directly, so I stripped off lots of running line and sent it off downstream to pull the fly from the other direction.  This worked a treat so I then started recovering a copious length of runner, far more than I need for the next cast.  To prevent another snagging I roll cast the main line out at 45 degrees and set about sorting myself out.  This sort of shambles is the perfect way to induce a take, and so it proved.  As the fly came round towards the dangle, a hefty thump from the tail-kick of a good fish proved the point.  I had no choice but to manage the first stage of the contest from the three loops of line arrayed on the fingers of my left hand.  The emergence of the fish onto the surface suggested that in my fear of a tangle, I was being much firmer than I would from the reel.  It did, however, allow a good look at a fresh salmon in the range 15-18 lbs.  Unfortunately this thrashing proved to be a good escape strategy, and after 10-15 seconds it came off.  I was disappointed but not downhearted, having hooked a good fish within 30 minutes of starting.

 

 

Frona - Patrick fishing down

We then went upstream, and changed banks to fish Frona, another lovely pool with 250 metres of fishable length ample for two rods and easy wading on pea gravel.  The running line was in the centre, well within easy casting range.  It was so lovely, a delight in salmon fishing heaven.

 

At around 1815 we called it a day and went in for a beer and a hearty supper, where we met the other 10 rods in the Lodge.  They were a cheerful and eclectic group of Swedes, Norwegians, Danes, and a charming Irishman.  Together they provided amusing company throughout our stay.  Remembering our lessons from 2017 we didn't fish into the night, but predictably I rose early to fish the Langholen pool at the top of the post before a hearty breakfast.

 

 

Korsholen
Half way down the upper section

We then went up to Korsholen, which is one of the best fish-holding pools on Grindal.  The top section is classic streamy water with lots of evident lies, while the bottom is massively deep - more than 25 feet in places and full of complex eddies - making it a real challenge to fish well.

I started on the top section, picking my way along the edge of the rocks.  The white water in the centre of the photo, generated by a couple of boulders, marks the transition from top to bottom.  As the MCX came round to the inside of the bigger boulder towards the dangle, my line gently headed off downstream, before parting company from an unseen salmon.

 

 

To fish the bottom section most effectively Krister recommended increasing to an S6 tip to work the depths on the far side.  Reaching all of them required some fairly heroic casting, but the 14' 7" Hero was well up to the job, which earned me my first even compliment on my casting from a guide or ghillie - unexpected but very gratifying.  As we were winding up for lunch the weather started to break into another stark contrast.  By 1400 it was near-biblical, coming down in sustained stair rods, with splashes rising 4" above the surface of the water.  Determinedly we went down to the bottom of the beat to fish the legendary Igdholen, another fish-holding pool.

 

 

Igdholen
Looking down to the tail from the left bank

The photo doesn't really show the full horror of the conditions.  The last time I fished in such rain was in 2015 in a downpour on the Deveron in my old Snowbee Prestige jacket, with water streaming in through the failing seams.  At least on this occasion, clad in a brand new Patagonia ST, I stayed completely dry, albeit I hate fishing with the hood up, depriving me of spatial and situational awareness, while creating constant feedback in my hearing aids.  It was absolutely miserable.  There were good numbers of big salmon moving and running in the rising water.  A moving 30 pounder is a majestic sight.  After battling the elements for 3 hours we called it a day, returning to the Lodge to meet Team Sweden who had decided to have a party rather than fish, and so were in excellent humour (and voice).

 

 

Kotterholen in spate
The normal wading line is down the left bank

By the next morning the Orkla was big, brown, ugly and downright dangerous.  We had no choice but to pass a quiet day in and around the Lodge: there are no extramural activities within 20 miles.

The following morning the river had fallen somewhat, but reaching the start point on Aunholen required 200 metres of wading up the bankside path.  Neither of us felt comfortable with the demands of the wading in the pool, so we called it a day at 1200 and set about packing up and loading the car.

 The return flight to Leeds was uneventful, despite the issues caused by Donald Trump attending the NATO conference in Amsterdam.

 

 

So what did I learn from the three days on the Orkla?

• All salmon fishing is a gamble with the weather.  You just have to stay philosophical, even after your third Norwegian disappointment.
• The Orkla is a beautiful river, which in normal conditions (i.e. not in the current downturn in runs) offers fantastic fishing.
• The pools and fishing at Grindal are as good as they come.  The beat comprises the longest contiguous salmon fishery in the lower half of Norway, which offers a refreshing change from the long-haul driving between pools on the Gaula.  We never had to wait or compete for a pool, nor did we encounter another angler while fishing.
• The Lodge is great in every respect - rooms, facilities, food, atmosphere - with outstanding staff.  And to our surprise, much cheaper than we anticipated.  My extras bill for three days' food, accommodation, guide tips, beer and wine, and two packets of Mustad Strong #6 doubles amounted to less than £120.
• I'll cover the tackle and technique points later. 

 

 A Week on the Tweed

A very old friend invited me to join his 4 rod party at Boathouse on the Tweed in the first week of July. I accepted quickly and joyfully: another friend of the same vintage was in the party (the three of us started our Army training together in the same platoon 56 years ago); our host is an ace cook and bon viveur; the main objective was a holiday with fishing rather than a pure fishing holiday (if you get the distinction) and the location adjacent to Berwick offered numerous diversions; the Boathouse lodge is excellent; and there were opportunities to fish new water.  It promised to be a happy and fun week, and so it proved.  We arrived in searing heat and clear blue skies, fishing in T-shirts on the Monday.

 

Boathouse & Canny Middle Section
Ladykirk middle hut opposite

 

The Boathouse & Canny is a quite short, less than 1/2 mile, right bank beat that marches with Ladykirk and divides into three sections.  The top is around a lazy bend with slow-moving water that is deep in places, and offers little fishable length from the right side.  Moreover, the wading is ghastly.

The middle section known as the Flats, shown here, is broad, shallow and quite slow, especially in the lower water that favours the Bottom Tweed beats.

The short bottom section, which starts opposite the Ladykirk hut is the most interesting and productive. 

 

 

Pedwell
Island run down towards Norham Bridge

Fortunately our host had also booked slots on Pedwell and Horncliffe downstream, both of which are longer, more interesting and much more productive. 

I really enjoyed fishing the Island on the dull grey Tuesday, with a high level of expectancy and anticipation, albeit in a gusty 20-25 mph wind.  The second time down I moved a fish with an MCX pattern Sunray in the usual sequence of visible turn in, follow and turn away short of the fly.  It wasn't large, perhaps 6-7 lbs, but its nice bright sliver livery flashed in the turn away.

 

There weren't many fish running, but each tide produced another small flight, including the occasional large salmon making a majestic appearance.  Catching remained possible, provided that the river didn't rise.   Inevitably, driven by that dependence and in stark contrast to Monday, the heavens opened on Wednesday.  Unlike Grindal, I didn't even attempt to fish in the conditions to catch the early part of the lift.  Overnight it went up 2-3' with lots of pale Till mud reducing visibility to zero.  Thursday and Friday were washed out, so we did lots of tourism (Alnwick Castle Gardens, Bamburgh beach) and I laid on a battlefield tour of Halidon Hill (1333) just over the river, where the evidence suggests that my Berkshire serf forebear fought for King Edward III in defeating the Scots, before being forcibly resettled in Northumberland to garrison Warkworth.  Sadly the wash-out meant that we lost our day on Horncliffe, although I did go down to renew my acquaintance with Gary Hillary, previusly head ghillie at Bywell, and to walk the water.

On the Saturday I fished Pedwell once more, on the Island and the Castle Stream below the bridge, yet again in a stiff wind.  The water was still too high to help the pools, and unfortunately, at about 1000 it started to rise again and show more colour.  Even with boatman Peter Lee's effervescent enthusiasm, we knew we were on a lost cause and finished in time for an early tea.

So it was another disappointment, coming hot on the heels of the Orkla, and following several last year.  Hopefully the cycle will break at some point.  Nevertheless, while disappointed I wasn't downhearted.  We enjoyed a tremendous fun week in great company and I had the pleasure of exploring new water.  The party all agreed that the formula was a great success in everything but fish, so we're going back next year, but with more slots on Pedwell and Horncliffe added.

Understandably I don't have many original learning points to offer from the truncated week.  Both are drawn from the adverse conditions:

• A strong wind from any direction will always trigger us into trying harder.  We have to guard against this by consciously taking it easy and sustaining a strong high stop.  Don't fight the wind, work out how to use its effects to our advantage, and always remember that it's the stop that makes it go, not extra effort. 
• On the Saturday afternoon the height of the water and the difficult wading kept me very close to the right bank on the Castle Stream.  The 20-25 mph wind was downstream and about 45 degrees into my face.  The options were either a right handed Snake Roll or Double Spey.  Given the strength of the wind, the Double Spey with its waterborne anchor was the safest and most reliable choice.  In addition, the very limited D-loop space forced me to compromise on distance and angle by placing the anchor further out and making the cast more of a roll than a Spey.  With less than 6' of space behind me I was quite happy to use the wind to reach the flow line at 45-60 degrees, rather than fighting the combined foes of bankside grass and wind with a big square cast.  Generally most fish are caught on your side of the river, so don't fret about distance.

 

Tackle & Techniques

Vision Hero 14' 7" #8/9

 

I used the big Hero exclusively on both the Orkla and the Tweed. Originally I took this rod to the Spey in 2022 as a demonstrator and liked it so much that I bought it.  It also did sterling service on the Tay in 2023.  On the Orkla it was in its element with sinking heads, hefty tips and big flies.  It made the whole exercise so easy, reliably exploiting three good loops of running line to reach the target.  On the Orkla I used the 650 grain Gamechanger I/S2/S3 with a 15' S3 or S6 tip (more below) or a 10' heavy MOW; and on the Tweed either a floating 37g Scandi with an S3 or S6 tip, or the 38g Guideline 3D I/2/3.

The action and hand feel are delightful: you know everything that's going on, yet it has the muscle to cope easily with sinking heads, in both extraction and back-cast (the acid tests) and delivery.  Despite being only 5" shorter than 15 footers, it just feels lighter in the hand and more wieldy.  It's easy: even at my advanced age I was able to fish this rod for an hour without feeling tired or stiff.

For an entry level rod it's remarkable, and it has the best value-engineered reel seat in the business.

 

Rio GameChanger Sinking Head

The prevalent advice was to get something for the Orkla that would cut down through fast water more reliably than the Guideline 3D that I've had for 10 years and more.  With the discontinuation of the sinking Rio Scandi heads, I bought the new GameChanger I/S2/S3 for the 2024 trip but only had the chance to use it this year.

 At heart it's a Skagit, just 23' long, but you have tremendous flexibility through your choice of tips, because the entire Rio family achieve balance at all lengths.  With a 15' InTouch it's the same length as a Scandi but with greater weight shifting capacity endowed by the head's profile.  And with a fast sinking 10' 3D MOW it's a pure Skagit, ready to shift anything.

 

I found its longer range casting performance to be far better than I anticipated (based on experience with earlier Skagit profiles), delivering reliable turnover of 15 foot tips and weighted tubes.  And it doesn't arrive with the unseemly crash that was characteristic of its predecessors.  Only in the slowest water did I have to roll the tip onto the surface, otherwise there was enough weight in the back of the head to power reliable extraction with a Snap T.  Double Spey was a doddle.  It's versatile and the wide range of tip choices gives you plenty of flexibility for adapting quickly to the conditions. The GameChanger matched the requirements posed by the Upper Orkla exactly, and it's become a fixture in my armoury. 

Rio Powerflex Ultra Shooting Line

I needed a new running line of appropriate breaking strain for Norway (i.e. >30 lbs).  As my old favourite coated line with the orange gripping section is no longer made (why not Rio?), I selected the Powerflex Ultra and on arrival, carefully eased and straightened it on the lawn before winding onto the Control #9/13.  My version is electric blue and slicker than a greased weasel.

I should have taken a hint from the colour.  The last time I had a blue Rio running line it proved to be a tangling horror on the Dee a decade or more ago.  This was worse.  Within 2 hours of starting on the Orkla I was reduced to swearing at Rio owing to the frequent tangles in the first or second ring.

 

Wading in moderately quick water my carefully measured loops (3, 4, 5 draws), first twisted themselves, and then irresistibly, with each other.  About 85% of the time they sorted themselves out on release, but the balance of 15% (or 1 in 6) is about 6 times too high for my liking.  In quiet water there wasn't a problem, and you can shoot an awful lot of Powerflex (by my standards at least).  It floated well and was clearly visible.  The next issue emerged over a day or so on both the Orkla and the Tweed while retrieving to re-cast: it eats flesh.  It cut through the top joint seam of the middle fingers of both hands, causing discomfort and bleeding that required attention with electrical tape.  No doubt some tyro in Idaho can do great things with this line, but mine's going in the bin, as in all conscience I just can't inflict it on anyone else.

I continue to believe that slickness in a running line is an overrated quality, and have a strong preference for tangle-free reliability and easy handling, even if it does cost me a few yards.  For that reason I always buy one level higher breaking strain for its greater diameter and reliability.  Of course, in Norway you need a strong running line: with a 30lbs abrasion resisting leader you don't want to be losing an entire head.  Breaking a 30lbs leader requires a Herculean effort: get your rod out of the way; tie a clove hitch of running line around your wading stick, apply your thumb to stop it slipping and use both hands; then dig your heels in and sharply apply your full weight in a shock pull.  And that still didn't break it; my fly came free. 

 

Looking Ahead

Yorkshire is still locked in drought with a hosepipe ban in force.  The struggle to preserve my garden is becoming intense.  We are hoping for a break in the weather next week, but as that's driven by thunderstorms there is a likelihood that they could miss us completely.  Wherever they may go we desperatley need rain in all out rivers, and especially those in the Ouse system (Swale, Ure, Nidd, Wharfe, Aire and Calder) to clear the oxygen block at the head of the tide between Selby and Goole.  Without that no salmon can run.  I don't wish to upset my farming friends, but for many reasons the state of our rivers is a matter of the deepest concern, so please let's have some proper rain.

We'll need a lot of it over a period of 2-3 weeks to get salmon well up the Ure.  In any event August is devoted to grandparent duties (all 6 in relays with overlaps) so taking a day off to fish Thoresby is a most unlikely prospect.  However, there is more fishing ahead in early September, when the amazingly kind TTMN has invited me to join him for a week on the Helmsdale, a river that I absolutely adore at a time of year when snow is unlikely to be on the agenda. I am fortunate indeed.

If you manage to get out, tight lines and have a wonderful time.

Helmsdale Sunset 

 

 

 

 

Upside Down and Round About

It's been a full 6 months since I last wrote, primarily because I didn't have anything useful to say, and when the time came to think about the annual MCX Christmas Stocking article, I was completely lacking in motivation, and far more concerned with grandparent duties.  Then in the New Year I was fully occupied for 6 weeks with a trip to New Zealand, where our elder son is currently working on a 2 year assignment just outside Wellington.  We visited him and his family last January and February, which included touring the South Island, but no fishing.  This year we toured North Island, courtesy of New Zealand friends who assembled the most amazing programme, including two days' trout fishing at Taupo.  The second day was on the Tongariro River, which provided the most electrifying trout fishing I've ever experienced in 71 seasons.

The Tongariro

Lake Taupo

It may be helpful to explain the background to the trout fishery based on Lake Taupo and its feeder rivers, not least because trout aren't a native species.  About 1,800 years ago - uncomfortably recent in geological time - an enormous volcano exploded and blasted a lump of rock bigger than the island of Singapore into orbit.  That's 800 square kilometres, and for the locally inclined, more than double the Isle of Wight.  It was the largest seismic event of the last 5,000 years, and devastated the North Island, leaving lumps of rock scattered across its length and breadth.  The nuclear energy equivalent would be 32,000 megatons.

Subsequently the crater collapsed and was filled by nutrient-rich water running off the surrounding mountains, which supported an incredible density of small fish, shrimps, crayfish and other species.  In the 1880s a Victorian trout fishing fanatic, who had enjoyed the incredible fishing in the Pacific North West of the USA and Canada, introduced stock of migratory rainbows from Oregon, otherwise known as steelhead.  The population exploded in both numbers and size.  By the 1920s Taupo and its feeder rivers were recognised as world's the foremost trout fishing destination.  The walls of the lodges are decorated with black and white photographs of redoubtable gentlemen in tweeds and ties, armed mostly with two-handed rods, standing behind unbelievable bags of very large trout displayed on the grass before them.  In one photo I saw, three rods had caught about 100 fish up to 20 lbs: strangely, they weren't smiling.

Overpopulation, food pressure and hydro-power exploitation of the rivers led to a relative decline in both the size of fish and the productivity of the fishery.  But today it still remains on of the most extraordinary fishing destinations, equalled only by some of the lakes and rivers in Patagonia.  The best of the fishing  is in April and May (equivalent to October and November in our calendar), when the larger fish migrate up the feeder rivers to spawn.  I was two months early for the optimum fishing, but by any standard it was still fantastic.

Head of the first pool

The Tongariro is regarded as the best of the rivers.  It hurtles off the mountains to the south of Taupo, flowing northwards to join the lake near the town of Turangi.  The best pools are in a gorge 120 feet deep, so you can't drive or walk to the river.  The adventure and excitement begins with white water rafting down the maelstrom to the first pool, and then to each successive pool thereafter.  As a result you're pretty revved up before you even start fishing.

The water is crystal clear and absolutely pristine.  This is not, however, an English chalk stream with manicured banks.  The vegetation comes right down to the water's edge, often making casting the required distance a real challenge.  Certainly I caught a lot of bushes and giant grasses.

Dry Cicada #6

The second casting problem is the fly.  We were using floating Cicadas tied on a #6 single hook that were almost 1 1/2 inches long with the cross section of a farmyard hen.  It has a closer resemblance to salt water patterns and casting style than my usual #16 Olive at short range on the Rye.  The rod was a Sage 9' #5, which worked well enough, but I should have preferred the greater horsepower of a #7.

Working hard!

Although there wasn't a significant hatch, fall and rise going on, if you cast to the lies or visible fish they came readily up to the Cicada.  In the slower water most takes were quite gentle.  The first thing I had to learn was not to strike as quickly as I do with a small dry fly and wild browns: you have to wait until the fish has turned downwards to set the hook.  After missing a couple by striking too soon, I finally connected.  At that point there was an explosion in the water and the world went mad.  The aerobatics were spectacular and the runs long and fast, even with modestly size trout in a fairly quiet pool.  The violence demanded keeping the tip much higher than is customary at home.

One handicap was that the rods were all rigged for right hand wind, to which I am wholly unaccustomed and heartily dislike.

Modestly sized
but utterly crazy fish

I was blessed with two amazing guides, Mark and Garth, both former international competitive anglers, with unbelievable casting skills and total knowledge of the water.  Garth runs the local white water rafting business in Turangi, and was reassuringly expert in his handling of the boat.  Watching Garth execute a single handed Perry Poke to deliver a Cicada 20 yards to lies under the low-hanging branches on the far bank with pinpoint accuracy was very humbling.

After a career in fishing Mark is now one of New Zealand's most successful fund managers, but still gets out whenever possible, especially to his lodge beside the Tongariro.  He is also an inspirational character: despite suffering from MS for many years, he confronts and overcomes every challenge presented by this type of fishing, whilst also being charming company and an assiduously kind host.  Whatever his success in business he has never lost his passion for fishing or his remarkable modesty.

Good fish getting away downstream
in fast water

After allowing me to get my hand in we dropped down to a tougher pool, with faster water and plenty of big rocks in the stream, casting straight upstream to fish lying in the runnels.  

The takes were lightning fast and you had to be 100% focused on presentation and line management, as well as keeping your footing while moving continuously upstream.  It had some similarities to early season upstream fishing at home - until a fish took and things went wild.

My best fish first went airborne; then looped round and under a rock before freeing itself (when the line went slack I thought I'd lost it); and then shot off downstream with the full weight of water behind it.  There was no way I could chase over the rocks, so fighting it back upstream was lengthy and hard.  Also, given the fish's propensity for violence, you get quite wary about bringing the loop into the top ring in the final stages.

Finally!
4lbs Tongariro trout

Here it is, safe and sound after 8-10 minutes of nerve-wracking excitement.  The Tongariro trout are very pretty in prime condition and well-muscled by the demands of their habitat.  You will note its unusually large fins, presumably a genetic trait brought with the first introduction in the 1880s.

I'm not at all sure how I would have coped with anything much bigger in the fast water.

Down the gorge in a quiet stretch, with Garth on the oars and his black Labrador on full alert.

Beautiful, but there's a goodly drop around the corner!

It was an absolutely wonderful electrifying day's fishing: I loved every minute and should love to do it again if I ever find an excuse to return to New Zealand.  After 6 weeks of deep immersion in the NZ atmosphere and Kiwi culture I'm now totally laid back and relaxed.  The national aphorism of "she'll be roit", meaning don't worry, any problem will sort itself out, can usefully and healthily be applied to much of our more pressured lives back home in the UK.

A Real Tackle Shop

In the UK, where the tackle business is dominated by the online giants, real tackle shops are increasingly hard to find.  Even Farlows in London is but a pale shadow of its former self, and in Yorkshire my nearest is John Norris in Penrith, 100 miles distant.  However, happiness still exists in Turangi.

Sporting Life has got everything it should have, and essentially, real expertise and experience behind the counter.  It's a delight, the sort of place you'd like to spend happy hours just browsing: sadly, for all three of my visits I was in an uncharacteristic rush.

Peter has guided and fished the Tongariro for 50 years and more.  Nigel used to own and operate the shop at Draycote before emigrating to New Zealand in pursuit of finer fishing and better quality of life.  They also have a team of guides and rent out gear at affordable rates.  Despite their best efforts my Reddington waders leaked, but that didn't detract from my enjoyment in the least.

To get an idea of the local fishing, have a look at some of the photos on their website, including those from the current season.

Salmon Fishing 2025

As this is a salmon fishing blog I need to say something about the season ahead.  My plans include:

• If April and May are wet, trying to catch a Yorkshire springer on the Ure
• Week 26 on the Orkla at Grindal Lodge with John and Patrick, hoping desperately that the run will be good enough to stop the Norwegian government from pulling the plug at the last moment.  If the water's cold it will be the first outing for the new sinking Rio Game Changer line system, which has superseded the sinking Scandi heads.
• The first week of July on the Tweed at Boathouse with my oldest Army friends, more a holiday with some fishing than a pure fishing holiday (yes, honestly)
• Sadly my planned return to the Inver and Kirkaig fell through owing to problems securing the lodge, a major disappointment.
• The first week of September on the Helmsdale courtesy of TTMN's generosity, which is really exciting as I love fishing the water.
• Autumn on the Ure, including the annual father and son bonding with HMCX.
• Getting my hands on one or more of the following rods for testing:
• Sage R8 14' #9 6 piece.  I had this rod to take to Norway last year but didn't get to use it apart from a brief try on the Ure.
• Vision XO Graphene 14' 2" #9
• Gaelforce 13' 6" #8 or 14' #9

Hopefully, if all that happens I should have something to write about.  Until then I wish everyone tight lines and all the joy of fishing, wherever you may be.

Highland Heaven - Inver and Kirkaig

Lower Inver morning view upstream from the Scrambles

 

Over the years I have been privileged to fish in many beautiful places, but nowhere else moved me as much as these two small Highland rivers.  As I walked up the Lower Inver on the Monday morning of our week, I found myself humming the song "Dancing Cheek to Cheek" from the 1930s musical Top Hat, produced and directed to showcase the magical dancing of Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers:

"Heaven, I'm in heaven,

and my heart beats that I can hardly speak,

and I seem to find the happiness I seek.............."

(with due apologies to the great Irving Berlin, who, as far as I know, wasn't a fisherman)

and those words kept coming back to me every day.

Consequently this post may be as much a photo essay as an article on fishing.  Either way, I very much hope that I succeed in conveying the joys I experienced during our week.

Having not enjoyed the Tay very much last year, my team encouraged me to look elsewhere (a polite euphemism indeed).  I contacted Mungo Ingleby of Sporting Lets, who offered me an array of opportunities.  The offer on the Inver and Kirkaig, both completely unknown territory for me, was very attractive, although in view of the age and reduced mobility of some members of the team, I was concerned by the athletic demands the rivers might present.  Mungo reassured me that he could manage that challenge and come up with a beat allocation tailored to our needs, and so it proved.  By December we had an agreed plan for a 4-rod party in the last week of August, which had something for everyone.  If we couldn't fish for salmon there was the vast array of famed trout fishing in the Assynt, stunning mountains and coastline, and the enormous selection of walks and hikes (especially for the much more athletic non-fishing wives).

The Week, its Joys and Challenges

After a string of disappointments and a dismal summer trout season (the coldest in my memory), my luck finally turned.  Against the odds and the worst efforts of Murphy, we had perfect water.  The wettest early August on the north west coast had left the lochs at the head of the Inver and Kirkaig fully topped up, guaranteeing good fishing levels for the whole of our week.  This amounted to +24" on the Inver and +12" on the Kirkaig.  My prayers and dreams had been answered: it does happen once in a while.  With no grounds for complaint and even fewer excuses, it was up to us to perform.  We did, however, duck fishing on the Tuesday, when the wind speed reached 50 mph, as a moderate concession to our age.  Apparently 2 young rods had a field day in our absence - good luck to them.

 

Perfect Inver silver - Day 1

The beautiful water levels presented both bonus and challenge.  The bonus was the quality of the fish.  The peak time on these rivers is usually in the first half of July: by late August the majority of salmon are resident and starting to colour.  However, the perfect water prompted a significant run of fresh fish throughout our week.  It was glorious: every fish we landed or hooked had been in the river for less than 48 hours, a wholly unexpected bonus.

 

 

 

Middle Kirkaig - Wednesday

The challenge arose from the combination of fast water and fresh fish.  Both rivers have sections with steep gradients and very fast flows: on the Middle Kirkaig those flows can be classified as Fast, Very Fast and Crazy.  We hooked a lot of fish in the tails of pools, where it was essential to stop them getting away downstream into the maelstrom below, while fighting them amidst very sharp edged rocks.  It was a big demand on angler and tackled alike.  The fish weren't large, generally in the range 5-10 lbs, but they were fresh and energetic, and had very soft mouths.  Two of my losses arose from failure of the hooking.  Two more were owed to breakage: I was using 23 lbs Seaguar (hardly normal in summer on Highland rivers), but in each case the polyleader was the point of failure, cut straight through on rocks.

 

 

 

 

 

Middle Kirkaig - Hazel Pool - Wednesday

 

This photo illustrates the challenge.  I was fishing from beyond the last little rock point on the right.  The large rock in the centre marks the lip of the pool.  The fish took about 5 yards upstream from there in shallow water.  There was no choice but to lower the rod tip and hang tough.  I managed to keep the salmon in the pool for 2-3 minutes of energetic thrashing until the polyleader was severed by one of the many rocks in the tail.  Rex, fishing with me, suffered exactly the same fate 15 minutes later, albeit his hook came out.  We moved down to the Heather pool, where we repeated the experience exactly but reversed, albeit this time I actually managed to fight my fish up out of the tail into the main body of the pool and get it under control before, suprisingly, the hook came out.  By this point David the head ghillie was begining to think he was fated with us as clients: hooked 4, lost 4 in a great morning's fishing.

 

Middle Kirkaig - Shady

Another challenge observable above and here is the need for rock scrambling/climbing skills, in this case a 40 foot near vertical descent.

The other thing you can see is the extraordinary clarity of the water.  From up here we could see the flash of salmon turning towards Rex's fly as it passed over the lies.  There are two reasons for this clarity: first, the lochs at the head of the rivers act as filters by causing sediment and fibrous materials to drop out; and second, in this area of the Highlands, the volcanic granite is overlaid with limestone.  The colour you see here is that of the bottom of the river, not the water, which is unexpectedly clear.  It's another part of the wonder of the place.

Lower Inver - Red Run

 If you look down the left side of this photo looking down Red, you can see the ledge you follow.  Some head for heights is essential.  I didn't hook a fish in here, but Rex did, right down by the tail, fighting it from 15 feet above.

If I was a skier I might rename this run Black, as a better representation of its demands.  But whatever those demands, it was certainly fun to fish.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 It wasn't all cliffs and cascades: both the Inver and Kirkaig have some gentler pools, and in the case of the Upper Inver, up on the moor to the east, there were lots of easily approached and fished pools that were delightful.  Fishing them against the backdrop of the Highlands was magical.

 Lower Inver

 A 25minute walk (hike?) up a very stony track from the hut leads you to the top of Beat 4, where you start fishing the Whirlpool (L) and below that, Dyke (R).

Whirlpool was full of resident fish that showed little interest in a fly, bar one grilse that tried a take as I was lifting  into a cast and thinking of other things.  The photo of Dyke was taken in the slightly lower water conditions on the Saturday.  On the Monday the left side was an interesting wade, with the water correspondingly faster.  I was in an awkward spot half way down beside the rocks when I hooked a fish (shown in the net at the top of this post), just upstream from the small point.  Moving from there was not an easy option, so I had an interesting time fighting a fresh and feisty salmon back up to me for netting.  Fortunately my luck held and I'd succeeded with a beautifully fresh, almost white fish on Day 1, oh what joy!  However, it didn't on the Thursday, when I hooked a substantially larger very fresh fish - probably 8-10 lbs - in exactly the same place.  After performing some spectacular aerobatics - cartwheeling across the run - to show its dislike of coming upstream, it eventually conformed.  After 3-4 minutes, having done the hard high-risk stuff, just when I thought I had everything under control, was getting confident and even thinking where best to net, the hook came out: exciting but sad.  It's always worse when it happens in the confident phase of the fight.  The lesson is simple: you can't win them all, but don't let up on the pressure, especially if the first part was violent.

 

Laird's, New & Cow from the hut

After Dyke you make your way down through a series of lovely runs: Island, where I missed a very forceful take on a most appropriate MCX Sunray on the brilliantly sunny Saturday morning; Red, as described above; and Scramble, where I missed good take in the fast water each time I fished it.  They lead on into the wide open spaces shown here, looking upstream from the hut.  The engineering work applied to the river in the 1930s is very evident, and although unnatural, it does create a stunning vista on a sunny day.  There were plenty of residents in here, but none were impressed by our flies.

I fished Pollan below the hut after lunch on the Saturday to close the week.  The loss of 3-4" made a big difference.  Rex had caught a nice fish here on Monday, but at the lower level I wasn't confident of imitating his success.

 

 

 

The Lower Inver is marvellous fishing, with lots of interesting pools and runs, all of which require thought, imagination and adaptation, which make it such fun to fish. It was also ideal for our two mobility-limited novice rods.

 

Upper and Upper-Middle Inver

 

The upper beats of the Inver offer a huge expanse of fishing set in moorland, with the mountains as a dramatic backdrop.  At the very top of the Upper beat is Loch Garbh, which plays an essential role as stabiliser and clarifier.  The entries to Garbh and the smaller Lasgaich provide excellent fishing in July as the early runners arrive.  

 

 

 

 

Lower Bridge Pool

Our main attention was focused on the Upper and Lower Middle beats, especially the latter, which have a succession of lovely pools.  Unfortunately, the light on the Thursday, while potentially good for fishing, was very poor for photography. 

The Lower Bridge offered almost 200 yards of lovely water that was well populated with uninterested residents who periodically showed to jeer at my efforts.  Below it the equally extensive and attractive Deer pool similarly failed to deliver.

 

Washing Pool

Despite the disappointments I fished with my customary enthusiasm, always hopeful for a take.  The Washing pool reeked of fish, but to no avail.  My theory is that heavy rain the day before had three effects: a small rise moderated by the lochs; the appearance of fibrous material in the water, making it look matte and flat, rather than the normal clarity; and increased acidity evidenced by foam.  Generally I found these features unhelpful on other rivers and can only assume that they may adversely impact the Inver.  Certainly, I only touched one fish all day, a great disappointment, but I loved fishing the beats.

Lower Middle Inver - Upper bridge Pool, leading down into Minister's

The Kirkaig

 

We only fished the Lower and Middle beats of the Kirkaig.  The upper limit is defined by the falls,barely 3 miles above the tide.  Although it is smaller and much shorter than the Inver, it has an established history of much larger fish.  I can offer no explanation although hypotheses abound: perhaps its violent waters produce stronger, later-emigrating smolts.  On the other hand, the one Kirkaig fish I caught was the same size as those on the Inver!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Looking upstream towards the gorge

Most of the Middle Kirkaig is enclosed in a wooded gorge of varying depth and breadth.  I showed some of the deeper sections earlier in this post, all of which present challenging fishing (and some demanding rock-hopping and scrambling).  Indeed, it was great fun to fish.

Despite the pace of the water, its extreme clarity led us to use smaller flies than would be normal at that speed, in my case MCX Dark #8 double and 1/2" Conehead tube, both of which hooked fish.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In circumstances like this you are on tenterhooks, expecting a take any moment (I had two here), knowing that you have to stop any salmon from getting away from you over the lip (by the tip of my right ear) into the maelstrom below.  This was really exciting stuff, and in this weight of flow, if you hooked a fish you had a fight on your hands, even if it might only be 5-6 lbs.  With the 12' 6" #7 XO the best answer was to drop the tip to 30 degrees to bring the full force of the butt into play and apply both drag and palm.  If something large - anything over 10-12 lbs here - I would not have rated my chances of stopping it.

After a day of this I knew I had been fishing!

 

The Lower Kirkaig beat has one lively pool - Heather at the mouth of the gorge - while the others are comparatively sedate, notably Bridge and Elder's.

This is the charming Bridge pool, another extremely fishy stretch, where most of the party caught salmon on Wednesday or Thursday.  Mine came from the tail on the Thursday afternoon, providing my first stress-free fight of the week, and David Macleod an opportunity to demonstrate his skills with my net.  It wasn't big, perhaps 5-6 lbs, judged a salmon, but it was certainly nice and fresh.

Summary

Although we didn't catch a lot of salmon, just 6, it felt like many more on account of the number we lost in the fight (7), and the vigour of those fights.  We also missed loads of takes as fish snatched at fast-moving flies in heavy water without getting hooked.  The fishing was challenging, sometimes physically demanding and always huge fun.  Although I'm fit for my age, I've never gone to bed so early in a fishing week.  Our party was relaxed, convivial and most enjoyable.  We were blessed with two lovely rivers, perfect water and utterly stunning scenery.  And the dreaded midges stayed away apart from one short period in a sheltered spot on the Lower Kirkaig: I never needed the head net.

I close this post with some photos of the surrounding area for your pleasure.

Sunrise behind Suilven from the lodge

 

Lochinver Bay

 

And from the opposite direction with Suilven behind

 

Autumn is coming

 

Top of Lower Inver beat

 

 

Upper Inver - Upper Bridge run

 

Pretty salmon - rubbish photographer