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

 

 

 

Not much to write home about

 In my last post 'Rain, Beautiful Rain' I was buoyed by optimism, with great hopes for the season to come.  As always I added a caveat of 'Murphy's Laws permitting'.  Subsequent events have underlined the prescience of that warning, because it's been an incredibly dull summer in which nothing much has gone right.  Even enjoying the garden has been a challenge amidst the cold, wind and rain, and the trout fishing has been correspondingly poor.  Today it's so dark and gloomy outside that in mid-afternoon in early August I've had to turn on the lights to be able to write this post.

Tweed

Rutherford - Long Stream in spring sunshine

In late April I was privileged to fish a day at Rutherford, courtesy of the ever-generous TTMN.  Without doubt Rutherford is one of the most beautiful beats on the Tweed, an absolute gem, and fishing there is real soul food, irrespective of the outcome.  However, having hooked 3 fish in as many casts from a single lie on my last visit, and caught two the visit before,I was feeling quite optimistic.

In the event I blanked, which was as surprising as it was painful, because the water was at a perfect height and felt strongly 'fishy'.  Here is the Island run, looking as good as it ever has, and significantly better than when I took a very lively fish here in 2019.  Lovers was in similar ply and most encouraging of optimism, but in contrast both Mill Stream and Between the Caulds looked and felt flat in the dull grey light.  It's funny how atmosphere affects your fishing morale and confidence.  But as I was to re-learn in July, perfect water guarantees nothing.

Norway

My excited anticipation of our trip to the Orkla was plainly evident in my last post.  As the day of departure approached I noted with trepidation the dismal results from the research bagnets in the Trondheim fjord, especially of the biggest 3 & 4 SW salmon.  Nevertheless, our host's sister in law had caught a 45 pound fish on opening day, which helps to suppress at least some of our concerns.  On the Thursday we got the first warning that the Norwegian government was considering drastic action to protect salmon stocks.  And on the Friday afternoon, when we were fully packed and ready to go to Leeds Airport, they announced the closure of all salmon fishing south of Trondheim.  It was a bitter disappointment, but we were better off than many, including one friend who arrived at Trondheim Airport with a party of 6 rods, just after the announcement.

The standard Norwegian fishing contract T&Cs are that there are no refunds from the operator in such circumstances.  I was fortunate in that one of my credit card policies covered this eventuality and the insurer settled in full for fishing, accommodation, flights and extra luggage.  However, my main travel policy did not: NFU Mutual, normally the most flexible and understanding insurers, went into fine detail to explain that this specific circumstance wasn't covered in the policy wording.  John and Patrick's insurers have held a similar line, although they are challenging this decision.  The lessons here are:

• Ensure you have a comprehensive cancellation cover policy
• Consider paying more to get flexible air tickets that offer refunds on cancellation

Despite this bitter disappointment we are planning on returning next year.  People may think us daft, but when you reach our age you have a certain determination to do things while you still can.

Findhorn

Findhorn - Altyre Beat, Palamore pool

The 3 days on the Findhorn were a complete and unexpected bonus through the generosity of an old friend of 55 years' standing: we joined the Army together as teenagers.  He had booked a week's fishing across the slew of beats, Logie & Relugas, Darnaway and Altyre, which coincided with a substantial run of grilse.  The party did well in the first 3 days, but on the Wednesday afternoon, for no easily discernible reason, the fish went on strike, and they caught only one more from the Thursday when I was there: just my luck!  The water was at an excellent height and although it felt fishy, it clearly wasn't.  Two factors stood out: there was quite a lot of very fine particulate peat suspended in the water; and it had an inky tone and surface foam indicating increased acidity.  The conventional wisdom and my experience elsewhere on the river suggested that such conditions tend to put fish off the take.  For their part the abundant grilse - I saw hundreds running through off each tide on the Thursday - seemed hell-bent on putting in the miles.  Indeed, Drynachan 25 miles upstream was enjoying one of its best July weeks on record, which underlines how fast the grilse were moving.

Visually it is a stunning collection of beats, with some of the most beautiful fishing I have ever enjoyed.

Daranaway - looking upstream from the hut

Darnaway in the gorge is real mountain goat terrain, fishing in narrow defiles and tiny pools.  Despite its visual beauty I must confess that at my age a 130 foot descent to a pool using steps, ladders and ropes, let alone the climb back up, is seriously challenging and not much fun.

At one point, while traversing a rock face 15 feet above the water, I contemplated the near impossibility of landing any fish I might hook beneath me.  The ghillie suggested descending to the flat rock at the foot of the face using the rope provided, but his instructions on how to get back up were less explicit.  I therefore decided to give up fishing the pool at that point, and clamber back up to the hut.

Darnaway - Poolie, looking downstream

This is a classic example of a Darnaway defile, which reminded me of the Dog's Nose on the Helmsdale, but a lot narrower.  The lip and falls out of this mini-pool is in the centre of the photo.  There are only two places from which you can fish Poolie, and no scope for movement.  So I spent much of an afternoon bouncing my tube fly off the rock face opposite to get at the stream of grilse running hard up against the side, to no effect whatsoever, which was very frustrating.  It's one thing if you can't see the fish you're failing to catch, but when they're in full view it's far worse.

Logie - Garden pool

I only fished two pools on Logie, with the picturesque Garden shown here, so I don't have a good view of the entire beat.  It's shorter than it looks in this photo and so didn't take long to fish.  The main interest was in the tail, which is nicely shaped to hold salmon at the short halt after the fast water in the exit, but sadly none were hanging about in the bright sunshine.

Logie - Red Rock

Red Rock is an interesting wading challenge, heavily dependent on detailed local knowledge.  It's very pretty, but sadly remained unwilling to provide a fish.

One of the added pleasures of Logie is the ability to cover the water with a nice small rod that makes grilse much more fun: my 12' 6" XO was a joy and fully capable of reaching the extra yards when needed.

Altyre - Palamore

The Altyre beat is where visual beauty and fishing pleasure come together in optimal delight.  I loved every minute of fishing it.  One of its great attractions is that every few yards poses a different question requiring a new solution of changed presentation, angle, speed and depth.  There's no mechanical cast - step - cast on Altyre.  It keeps you on your mental toes and really adds to the enjoyment.

This is a prime fishing beat in April for the chunky Findhorn 2SW springers, and so one for my wish list.

Altyre - Soldier's Hole

Soldier's Hole is another pool where Ian Neale's local knowledge was invaluable.  Fishing the head involves wading out onto a sandstone ledge that isn't visible from the right bank approach.  From there you can cover the full width to get a good swing through the running line visible in the centre of the photo.  It was there that I had my one decent grilse take of my stay, but as is so often the case with their soft mouths and head-on approach, it didn't stick.

Altyre - William's Run

Soldier's leads down into William's run, which provides delightful fast water fishing to cover a mass of potential short-halt lies, and the possibility of a really exciting fight should you hook a salmon here.  Moreover, running after the fish isn't an option, so you would have to rely on the combined power of prayer and a good drag.

While I was disappointed not to hook a grilse in William's, it was such fun to fish that by the time I reached the bottom I felt extremely happy.

At the end of the 3 days I'd certainly fallen for Altyre and should very much like to return, ideally in the spring.  If you are to really enjoy Altyre and Logie, which are both right bank beats, you have to be confident and competent casting left handed.  On several pools you need to be able to get out to 30 yards to cover the running lines. However, elsewhere in July a 12' 6" rod was ample for the most common requirement of around 25 yards.  One word of caution: if you're considering the privilege of fishing this water, it isn't cheap.

Gruinard

This was a surprise invitation from an old Yorkshire friend that didn't arrive until after I'd written my last post, to fish the water his family have fished for 3 generations across 70 years.  The north west coast of Scotland is stark, beautiful and incredibly sparsely populated.  Indeed, it makes rural North Yorkshire seem positively suburban.  It is also one of the wettest parts of our very damp isles, receiving an average of 6 feet/2 metres of rain annually.  I was therefore amazed on arrival to find the area as dry as a bone and the river as low as it could be.  Amazed yes, but not surprised owing to my respect for Murphy's Laws: my fervent desire for good fishing conditions almost guaranteed the absence of rain.  The complete lack of water made fishing almost pointless, although I did make an effort to gratify my generous host and appease the fishing gods, who clearly unappeased not only failed to deliver a fish but also inflicted serious injury upon me.

Griunard - Bridge Pool, The Labrador's Head

This photo of the aptly named Labrador's Head shows how low the water had fallen.  In normal conditions the water is around its nostrils.  The adjacent channel, which would usually hold fish was too shallow to hold anything.

Griunard - Bridge Pool

This was less a pool than a large slow moving puddle, shallow, warm and gin clear.  To my amazement two grilse came to my tiny #14 double during the first morning, one coming up 4-6" behind, and the other actually getting its mouth onto the fly.  That comprised the entirety of the excitement during my stay.

With the water so low and clear, fieldcraft was essential: avoid sky lining, stay well back from the water, and move very slowly and quietly.  I took this photo after I'd finished fishing the centre section of the pool, before moving round to cover the tail.  The two interested fish were downstream of the small rock showing in the centre left of the shot.

The compensation in these circumstances is the stunning scenery, wild, raw and ancient.

There were plenty of fish hunkered down in this pool, mostly grilse with a few bigger 2SWs that showed periodically.  None of them showed the least interest in any of the variety of flies I tried, even amidst the flurry of activity triggered by an impending break in the weather, which needless to say, failed to deliver any water.

Even in the larger pools like this a single handed rod sufficed, using a mixture of overhead, roll and single Spey casts.  It makes for easy fishing.  I'll be writing a review on the rod, reel and line combination that I used, which proved an excellent choice for the task.

On the Saturday morning the Fishing Gods took their revenge.  Just after I took this photo I hooked and lost a small sea trout of about 1 1/2 lbs.  I was fishing from the rocks rather than the path to get a better presentation, wearing walking shoes as waders would have been superfluous.  But I failed to heed the simple fact that Vibram soles are useless on rock.  I slipped and fell into the water, hitting several rocks along the way  Cursing volubly I picked myself up, checked the rod was intact and prepared to restart fishing.  It was then that I noticed a copious amount of blood dripping into the water.

In falling my right hand had made heavy contact with a very sharp rock, making a cut about 3cm long and inwards to the thumb joint, which was clearly visible.  This brought fishing to an abrupt end.  I rinsed the wound in the river, bound it with a handkerchief and made my way back to my host in his pickup.

As there were no surgeries open in the north west on a Saturday, the nearest treatment was at the A&E unit in Inverness, almost 2 hours' drive away.  Eric the head ghillie, the kindest of men, volunteered to drive me there and to wait for me to be fixed up.  In the event the delay was only about an hour before a nurse applied 2 internal and 3 external stitches, enhanced with liberal quantities of medical superglue, and sent me on my way.

Bad as this was it could have been far worse.  I'd had a near miss on a broken wrist, which would have stuffed the rest of the fishing season and probably a fair amount of the shooting as well.  If the hand and wrist had stuck behind the offending rock, that might have become a broken arm.  The lesson is simple: a small slip can turn pleasurable fishing into significant injury, so always keep a first aid kit in your car and know how to use it, because you never know when your friend's life may depend on your ability to respond effectively.

Gratitude

While I may be disappointed not to have caught a salmon in any of the three wonderful places I have fished so far, I also reflect on the privilege of fishing them and the exceptional generosity of my friends.  When you are in receipt of such kindness it's wholly unseemly to complain about anything.  After all, it's just nature and we don't set the rules: to turn a quote, "man proposes, but the salmon disposes".

Looking Ahead

After such gloom - and it's not in my nature to be gloomy - it's nice to have a week on the Inver and Kirkaig at the end of August to which I can look forward.  Meanwhile my hand is healing nicely, although it will be another week before I can get back to proper gardening.  If you have been more fortunate enjoy the memories and tight lines.

Rain, Beautiful Rain

I haven’t written anything since Christmas because, as is so often the case in winter, I didn’t have anything useful to say.  Now it’s April: the salmon season is open in Yorkshire; the rivers are full of water; and the first salmon have been caught on the Ure, the earliest catches in a decade.  That’s quite enough to perk me up to write, even if the content could be a mite thin.

It's been an extraordinarily wet winter, certainly the wettest since 2012, and probably since the1990s.  It started in October with 2 ½ times average rainfall, and above average or much more in every month since.  The land is waterlogged and will seep for weeks.  Any fresh rain runs straight off causing sharp rises, while the seepage slows the falls.  The Ure has been running at a consistent +1.0 - 1.3m for weeks, no wonder the salmon are running.

This is a far cry fro the previous decade (2014-2023), in which 9/10 springs in Yorkshire were dry, with the same proportion of years having below average rainfall.  In one year, I recall it was 2015, we were in a technical drought before we even reached the spring.  Not only do such low flows discourage running, in the worst case, especially as temperatures rise, there is a serious risk of an ‘oxygen block’ forming in the lower reaches of the Ouse between Goole and Selby owing to sewage and other forms of contamination.  If the oxygen content in water falls below 5 ppm, salmon won’t even attempt to enter the river.  

This was the major factor in the 1950s extinction of salmon in the Ouse.  Within limits salmon don’t mind mud in the water, but oxygen-depleting biomass is another matter altogether, it’s a total showstopper.  If you look at the graph above you will see that in the two hot dry years of 1995 & 1996, the oxygen count in the lower Ouse stayed below the critical 5 ppm threshold, whereas in the run of wet summers 2004-10 it was consistently above.

However, fortified by this deluge-induced onset of optimism and hope (no matter how ill-founded Murphy’s Laws may prove it to be), I’m feeling even more salmon-perky than usual.  If I can get on top of the massive rain-induced backlog of gardening, I’ll try to get out at Sleningford or Bolton.  In any event the very kind TTMN has invited me for a day later this month at the stunningly pretty Rutherford on the Tweed, which is always a huge pleasure, and sometimes pleasingly productive.  Thereafter I’m looking forward to the Orkla in Norway in late June: my wife told me to go while I still can on the grounds of my advancing age. Then a kind friend of 55 years’ standing has invited me to join his party of the Middle Findhorn in July.  This year’s Just One Week expedition is to the Inver and Kirkaig in the extreme northwest at the end of August.  Other than the Helmsdale I’ve not fished in the extreme north and I’m looking forward to the new learning experience.  My season will close traditionally with a succession of days on the Ure at Thoresby, which allow me to indulge in father and son bonding with HMCX, repay my friends’ hospitality and possibly catch some salmon.  It’s a lovely prospect, and certainly the most varied season I’ve had since 2011 (I can only pray that it’s as productive as that magic year).

All of those wonderful opportunities bring different challenges and requirements, which I discuss below.  In the near term I got on with my traditional spring routine of cleaning and polishing lines (not much fun at 6C temperature!), checking reel function (rather superfluous with a stable of Danielssons, but an embedded habit), culling damaged flies and preparing disciplined shopping lists.

The Orkla

The first question I have to address is why, having warned readers in my previous Norway posts about the high costs of catered accommodation, am I going to a lodge this year?  First, John and Patrick’s enthusiasm for going to a lodge was a clear indication that they’d had enough of my cooking and were happy to pay to avoid it but were too polite to say so.  Second, while havering over the cost I received a stern common-sense lecture from my wife on age-related risk: “at your age there’s no guarantee that if you delay you will still be fit enough to enjoy fishing in Norway next year, so get on and do it”.  That green light trumped my customary Yorkshire parsimony and clinched the booking.

Grindal is beautiful stretch of river with some exceptional pools. It is quite well up the river, so in the third week of June, we hopefully will be at the leading edge of the run of larger salmon (storlaks).  There won’t be many fish, but there’s a realistic chance of a good one.  This requires strong leaders to cope with the combination of big fish, heavy water and highly abrasive rocks.  Typically, this comprises a 40 lbs header and 30 lbs mid-section, and a short ‘fail safe’ length of 23-25 lbs.  Without this final element, if you hook a large rock, you are at risk of breaking your running line and losing the head.  As my existing stock of 40 and 30 lbs fluorocarbon dated from my last Norway adventure in 2017 and was thus well beyond its safe life, it went into the bin.  Given the price this was tough but essential.  There’s no point spending a lot of money to hook a large Norwegian salmon, only to lose it for want of the price of a couple of (expensive) spools of Seaguar.

The water will be full, cold (ca 6.5C) and flowing strongly.  My primary rod will be the 14’ 7” Hero balanced with the Control #8/13, with the 13’ 6” XO as the back-up.  I therefore need to take my full suite of #9 Guideline 3D sinking heads, which get very few outings in the UK.  In view of the weight of water I supplemented those with a serious depth charge option, the new Rio Gamechanger S3 sinking body, with matched S5 and S7 Versitips.  The overall head length with the tip is around 34 feet.  This line has replaced the old Scandi 3D sinker, which Rio phased out at the end of last season.  Their strategy makes eminent sense when you bear in mind that by far the largest market for such very fast sinking lines and tips is in the Pacific Northwest, where shorter headed lines predominate.  If I do need to deploy this option, it will be interesting to see how it casts and I’ll report on it in a future post.  I’ll also take the 65’ head full Spey line as an insurance option for the unlikely event of low water.

If required, the XO will deliver the traditional floating Scandi body with the S5/6 Versitip supplemented with a super-fast sinking polyleader.  This combination won’t fish as deep or slowly as the Gamechanger but should suffice in many of the likely fishing scenarios at Grindal.

I have a small stock of Frodin-style lower water flies from my previous trips, but nothing at the larger end of the range.  However, I’m not planning on buying Norway-specific flies before I leave UK.  Grindal Lodge is operated by people who are expert anglers and operate a small shop on site, so I shall put myself in the hands of their judgement for flies.  As you might expect, I will undoubtedly see whether the MCX Dark also works on the Orkla!

The Middle Findhorn

(Photo - Relugas Estate)

In contrast to the big, cold and heavy challenges of the Orkla in June, the Middle Findhorn (Darnaway, Relugas, Altyre) will be at the opposite end of the spectrum.  A lot of the water will require short rods, fine leaders and small flies and hitches.  My 9’ 6” single hander and 11’ 6” Tool will have leading parts, although the lower more open beats may demand more.  I’ve got all the gear, including flies – the tiny MCX Light may get its first outing here, especially in the evenings. The only items for the shopping list will be some light Maxima for surface presentation and 15 lbs Seaguar for sub-surface.

Inver and Kirkaig

The Kirkaig (Photo - Ossian Adventures)

These far north rivers are entirely new to me, so I shall need to garner lots of local knowledge and advice on techniques and tactics.  I’m assuming that low clear water is most likely, which means more of the light and fine tactics used on the Findhorn.  In any event I love the new challenges, experiences and learning opportunities that enrich and broaden my angling experience.  And of course, they give me new and different things to talk about on this blog.

Amidst the stunning terrain and challenging fishing, there’s one aspect of the northern rivers to which I am certainly not looking forward – the Scottish midge!  I’ve faced some ghastly insects in inhospitable places around the world, but none of them equalled the horror of this tiny grey flesh-eating monster, which operates in countless millions.  After experience of high summer on the Carron, I had sworn never to fish while dressed as a bee keeper.  Breaching that oath is inevitable, and I’ve already invested in easily packable head nets from Go Outdoors and a stock of military-grade insect repellent.  While those solutions may suffice for me, I’m deeply concerned with how to protect my fair-skinned bug-magnet wife who suffers dreadfully.

The Inver (Photo - Ossian)

It's a great consolation that in the gathering twilight of my salmon fishing career, that I have such a wonderful season in prospect.