Yet Another Farewell

Tomatin House
September 2026

 Amongst the 150 or so posts I've written for this blog, there are several that bid farewell to Tomatin, where my salmon fly fishing journey began and so many happy memories were created.  We left sadly at the end of the 2013 season, never expecting to return.  By good fortune we came back in 2017 and enjoyed our second best week ever, despite losing 2 1/2 days to spates.  Our return in Covid and drought bound 2020 was less successful owing to the abject lack of water.  Our unexpected return this year had an air of finality against a background that suggests that this may really be our final visit.  The matriarch of the owning Glynne Percy family has died and it's possible that the house and fishing will be sold.  In that event we have no means of knowing whether any future owners might let the fishing, how and to whom.  We have to assume that this may indeed be it.

The house hasn't been let in recent years owing to the economic challenge of making it conform to the new regulatory requirements for rental properties in Scotland.  Last year John and Patrick fished the water while staying at a nearby cottage.  This year John invited me to join them, staying in a converted farmhouse at Balvaid on the other side of the river.  The other three rods would be John's son and his young party, taking the Colonel's Pool bothy and fishing on the right bank of the river.

We arrived on the Monday afternoon to find the river on its bones.  Frankly, it was so low as to be unfishable, leading us to finish early.  That night we could hear the wind and rain lashing the house, and slept soundly with the reassurance of having water for most of the week ahead.  The river rose rapidly on the Tuesday morning.  The two photos below, taken from the Colonel's bothy looking upstream to Ladies' and Garden at an interval of 60 minutes show the scale and speed of the 5' rise.

0930

1030

There seemed little point in fishing in those conditions, so my wife and I enjoyed a rainy and windy day sampling the modest delights of Nairn, which we'd not previously visited.

Garden
Head
1000 Wednesday

The river was still running strongly on Wednesday morning but falling quickly, which offered good prospects for fishing, and so it proved.  Having allowed Patrick the first run down Garden, I arrived around 10 o'clock and started fishing the pocket alongside the fast water at the head of the pool, where running fish tend to congregate before moving up.  Within 5 minutes a decent grilse took my MCX Dark #8 and after an uneventful fight returned briskly to its running.  I missed another shortly afterwards, but by virtue of my good fortune and high morale, I wasn't unduly bothered.

Garden
Tail
1100 Wednesday

I fished on down to the bottom of the pool to cover the quieter lies down at the wood.  The flow profile had changed since 2017, with the main exit shifting across from the near side to just beyond the middle.  One of the keys to success in Garden is, if at all possible, to avoid wading.  The deeper water starts about 10-15 feet from the shore, and running grilse will exploit the easier flow up the left bank.

After failing to touch a fish in this usually productive stretch I concluded that a proportion of the salmon present were running, and those moving up from the lower river were yet to arrive.

Churan
Head
0930 Thursday

 On Thursday I started on Churan in a brisk upstream wind.  As the water had fallen and cleared I was fishing light with the 12' 8" #7 XO and a plain fluorocarbon leader to an MCX double.

A fish took the fly from a lie just beyond the rocks in the middle that mark the start of the faster water at the head of the pool.  Instead of turning away and kicking it moved sedately to my right into the main flow.  It didn't seem to be of any great size or to be especially bothered by being hooked, maintaining its steady progress upstream against a light drag.  When it had drawn level with me, it turned towards me, and without any unusual action on its part or mine, ejected the hook.  It was probably the lowest-key take I've ever experienced with a salmon, more chub than salmo salar.  I missed a grilse shortly afterwards: clearly this wasn't my morning.

After lunch I headed up the glen to the Farr water, which John had taken as an insurance against low water and loss of capacity at Tomatin.  I'd not previously fished up there, so this was a journey of discovery in steadily worsening weather.  The stretch, which is about 4 miles upstream from Tomatin, runs on the left bank from Dalmigavie Lodge down to just below Dalarossie Church, and contains 3 or 4 decent pools.  The density of fish was unlikely to be any higher than at Tomatin, but it seemed well worth exploring, although the weather did temper my enthusiasm.

The Laird's Pool
Dalmigavie
Thursday 1500

After parking at Dalmigavie Bridge beside the Lodge Pool, I walked some distance down the left bank with the wind and rain on my back.  The Laird's Pool, about 500 yards below the bridge is the first really fishy site you encounter.  It's about 25-30 yards wide and very exposed to the elements.  Croys on both banks constrict the flow while creating a series of attractive holding spots.  I started fishing where the water deepened and covered the whole pool around the corner to the left until reaching the next shallows.  The wind was blowing up to 20 mph, with frequent showers that forced me to put up my hood.  I heartily dislike the enforced loss of situational awareness.

In the conditions the fishing was quite challenging, although the 12' 7" #7 allowed me to deliver an intermediate tip and small MCX conehead across the entire width without undue effort.  Despite the promise offered by some very attractive lies it was an uneventful sortie.  The walk back to the car into the teeth of the wind with the rain striking my jacket like birdshot was dour enough to persuade me to call it a day.

Dalnahoyn
0930

Friday morning saw me back on the upper section, where I started at the head of Dalnahoyn under the A9 viaduct.  Historically this has been one of my favourite and most productive pools at Tomatin.  However, a succession of major storms have changed the flow at the neck, bringing it towards the left bank and removing the former right bank defile; moved lots of rocks and the lies that used to be in the foreground of the photo; and rendered the inlet to the left unwadeable.  With a 20+mph downstream wind complicated by the turbulence generated by the viaduct and railway bridge, this was a very challenging fishing proposition, and frankly not much fun.

After fishing to the viaduct I trudged downstream to Wade's for a couple of casts to placate the fishing gods, before making the long trek down to Garden.  There isn't a path along the bank, so you pick your way along meandering sheep tracks through the thistles.

Garden
Friday 1200

Garden in the midday sun and sheltered from the wind helped to restore my morale.  The water had fallen considerably from Wednesday's ideal fishing height, but there was still enough to allow fish to run in daylight.  Accordingly, I once again targeted the pocket and the near edge of the fast water for a pausing runner.  On my fifth cast the plan worked when a small 2SW of about 5 1/2 lbs took the #10 MCX, just as my wife arrived with her phone to record the event.  The last time she achieved such perfect fishing timing was in the same pool in 2011 for a much better fish.

Drain (the House Pool)
Friday 1400

After lunch I waded across the Major's shallows to fish Drain from the right bank, which gave me an entirely new perspective.  Previously we'd always fished it from the grass you can see in the left of the photo.  The biggest challenge came if you hooked a fish, because the bank is 5 feet high, vertical and falls into deep water, making solo netting a very risky proposition.  This led to some heroic leading of fish most of the way upstream to Colonel's.

Although the water had fallen a lot since the young rods were catching fish here earlier in the week, I thoroughly enjoyed fishing it from the right bank.  From there I made my way downstream to Rocky, again from an entirely new perspective.  There was, however, nothing new about me missing a take in the head of Rocky, just a typical tap-tap gone of a grilse, nothing more.

Church Pool
Saturday 1100
before the storm

The weather forecast for Saturday was dire, with warnings of gale force gusts around lunchtime.  My morning allocation was up at the Farr water, so I opted to have a late start and fish the Church pool at Dalarossie.  The entry section is largely inaccessible (around the corner to the right); the middle is slow and enormously deep; and the tail in the foreground is generally the most productive part.  It's not wide and can all be covered from the bank.  With the continuing fall in the level and lack of flow, you had to strip plenty of line to work the fly.

I had about half an hour's fishing in a rising wind before the storm hit.

It was impossible to fish in such conditions.  Even standing up was a serious challenge.  With discretion being the better part of valour, I retired to the lee of the churchyard wall for shelter as the wind roared down the pool.

I closed the week with a short valedictory session on Garden, in what may have been my final, final farewell to this lovely pool that has given me so many fish over the years.  It was wonderful.

While I miss the raucous multi-generation family house parties of years gone by, perhaps this low key week with two close friends and their wives in a small farmhouse was better suited to my advancing years.  If we do not return I shall miss it terribly, but in an overall context of gratitude.  This is where the story of Just One Week and my salmon fishing journey began, where my enthusiasm was ignited, and where, after 25 years, I had become confident and relaxed enough not to regard just two fish in a week as a failure.  In fact, we had 17 between the 6 rods, and everyone enjoyed themselves.  Au revoir Tomatin.

Chalk and Cheese - Torrid Tweed and Glorious Gruinard

 Tweed

Tweed - the picture says it all
Horncliffe 1 looking downstream

We had an extraordinary week on the Bottom Tweed, the complete opposite of last year when we were spated off for 4 of the 6 days.  The low water - quite the lowest the boatmen had ever seen - was what we wanted to hold fish in our beats at Horncliffe and Pedwell.  The downside was that the Costa Del Norham was enjoying more hours of sunshine than Marbella.  The challenge wasn't fly selection, but making sure that you had adequate sunscreen and drinking water.  The air temperature was consistently 25+C, while the water was uncannily warm to the touch: on most days we stopped at midday when it hit 20C.  Starting at 0600 didn't improve the odds or the results.

There were plenty of grilse entering the river.  We had a frustrating time with their nips and tugs that rarely led to proper contact, and on the occasions it did, the combination of tissue-paper mouths and front lip hooking condemned us to lost fish.  In 6 days' fishing I probably had 15-20 attempts.  I managed to get just one onto the final run towards the net, when inevitably it came off.  Indeed, our party of 4 rods only managed one grilse in the book for our week.

Our water varied between the wide open space of Horncliffe and the more enclosed Pedwell:

Wide open spaces - Horncliffe 2
Looking downstream, running line 20 yards to my left
Note the extreme clarity and shallowness of the water
This is the normal wading line

Horncliffe 3 looking back to the bank to show the bend in the trees in a 30 mph gust
My D-loop had just flown away downstream

Amidst the relentless sunshine we had one overcast day with very strong winds, gusting up to 30 mph.  Apart from keeping my hat on and standing up, trying to execute a right handed double Spey presented manifold challenges: first, sweeping a 14' 6" rod upstream against the wind; second, stopping the whole show from blowing off downstream while trying to form a D-loop; and third, delivering something resembling a cast.  It was tiring and frustrating.

Horncliffe 3 looking downstream in less savage conditions

Horncliffe 1, looking upstream to the 'Aquarium'
The opposite bank is Ladykirk
The visible flow line gets progressively closer to the Horncliffe right bank downstream

Amber loyally observed the comedy performance patiently and without judgement, holding her seat until I completed each pool.  She normally gets excited if I actually catch a fish, so a whole week of patient observation was probably as bad for her as it was for me.

Pedwell
Tip Hole

The more sheltered and intimate nature of Pedwell offered both protection from any wind and the opportunity to use a smaller and lighter rod.  It was also holding a lot of fish.  Once the grilse and salmon ran in off the tide into the tepid water, they made best speed for the deepest, coolest and shadiest spot they could find.  Most hunkered down to sit out the heatwave, although in the Tip Hole plenty of them displayed their boredom: I saw 30-40 in less than half an hour, although none showed the least interest in a fly.

Inevitably the weather defeated us.  There were respectable numbers of fish and the low water advantaged the bottom beats, but the conditions, especially the low crystal-clear hot water, were absolutely against us.  In compensation we had a hilarious party and a relaxed holiday.  Having had too much water in 2025 and too little in 2026, we can only hope for something in between next year, because when it's right this fishing can be tremendous: in the past week Horncliffe and Pedwell have landed 22 and 21 respectively.

Gruinard

After finishing on the Tweed on the Sunday we briefly returned to Yorkshire to sort out and swap big rods - 14' 6" and 13' 6" - for small - 9' 6", 11' 6" and 12' 6".  In the event the 11' 6" DH Tool proved ideal.  On the Tuesday we turned about and after staying with friends in Ayrshire that night, we arrived at the Gruinard in time for an early drink on Wednesday evening.  This was a repeat of the outstandingly kind invitation from a lifetime Yorkshire friend we had received in 2024, with the same fun party of old acquaint.  The juxtaposition of conditions from the Tweed, and indeed from the Gruinard in 2024, was total: the air temperature was 15C, the water 14.5C and the level was perfect.  A little rain on the Thursday raised the level slightly and freshened things up, without introducing discolouration.

Gruinard - The Bridge Pool
Comparison of water levels at the Labrador's Head

Indeed, we could not have asked for better conditions in which to enjoy the stimulating challenges of fishing this little river - only some 6 miles in length between the loch and the sea - with its varied stretches of rocky white water, smoother pools and open runs.  It's such fun to fish: no two casts are the same, and you have to be on the mental ball all the time to spot and maximise your opportunities.  It's also essential to change your fly to match the water, in this example with rapid switches between tungsten mini-tube, 0.5" conehead and small double,  while progressing down the run pictured below.

Miss Ferens' Run looking upstream
seriously challenging and fun to fish

Spot your opportunities
while going carefully

After umpteen misses and several losses, one of the grilse found its way into the net.  By taking the MCX Dark conehead in fast water between two rocks at the bottom of the run shown above, it had to commit and wound up very firmly hooked.  The fast water flattered its 3 lbs mass and made the fight great fun.

Gary the ghillie opined that the grilse run was late and thin.  The fish were in excellent health and tightly grouped around the 3 lbs mark.  If we had netted even 25% of the takers we should have caught a dozen or more: in the event we had only 4 grilse, which confirmed the correctness of Gary's view.

The were large numbers of small sea trout in the river, taking everything in sight, and typically feisty when hooked.  A couple stayed on and came to my net, the larger about 3/4 lb.

MCX roll casting left handed in a downstream wind
Anchor positioned well in front to avoid 'heather grab'

As long as the wind blew we were safe from the midges, but every time it paused or you entered a sheltered spot, then they appeared instantaneously in their thousands.  Consequently, I tended to fish with a head net and tolerate the inconvenience in preference to being caught out.  Hence in this photo I look like Count Binface's cousin.

The joys of fishing with a little rod and the challenges of producing the right cast for the circumstance, made every minute on the river a real pleasure.

On the Saturday morning I was looking down from a cliff into the run that my host was fishing.  About half way down I saw the flash of a fish turning, followed by its 45 degree ascent to the fly, take and turn down: I was able to shout "fish" before he felt it.  During a brisk fight I descended the cliff and netted a perfectly fresh 2SW salmon of 7 lbs.

The afternoon he was able to return the favour.  I was fishing a curving open run in which the fish and their lies were concentrated within a band about 6-7' wide, casting short and at a shallow angle to maximise the time the small MCX Conehead stayed in play.  My host was relaxing on the bank 150 yards downstream, reading a book.  The fish took and ran hard downstream, helped by the weight of water. As I applied pressure to stop it getting into the white water at the bottom of the stretch, it went fully airborne, which with my shout of "fish" alerted my host to the excitement.  This very athletic salmon jumped a further 4 times during a fight extended by my fear of losing it and the speed of the water: there was no readily available slack water for fighting or netting.  Finally a nice 2 SW of 6lbs, which had been in the river for 3-4 weeks, came into the net to my intense relief, providing a perfect end to the week.

Reflections

The two sessions could not have been more different in every respect, and the conditions on each river were exact reversals of the situation when we last fished them.  Our 2025 Tweed week was demolished by rain and spates; this year we had a heatwave.  In 2024 the Gruinard was dried out and unfishable; this year almost continuous rain had put the river in perfect condition.  Better still, I didn't attempt to sever my right thumb by falling down a bank onto a sharp rock.  So what observations flow from the experience?

• Although Horncliffe is dauntingly wide on first look, in almost every case the running line and holding lies were within easy casting distance.  It's the old adage: "on big rivers, look for the rivers within the river".  Just because the far bank is 50 yards away, you don't have to cast to your limit.  Focus on covering where the salmon are and presenting your fly in the best possible order, moving correctly.
• Most of the pools and runs on Pedwell place a premium on accuracy and presentation.  You don't have to cast far, but it's essential that your fly is working effectively as soon as possible after it enters the water, which requires a good turnover.
• On both beats the great majority of the fish were on or adjacent to the main flow line and you should tailor your casting angle and range accordingly.
• When the conditions are close to impossible, you have two choices: carrying on doing something sensible; or retiring to the pub.  There is no silver bullet: even the Sunray Strippers were disappointed.
• Fishing small Highland rivers is great fun, but even in ideal conditions, success is not guaranteed.  Remember that you're always very close to the fish, so good field and water craft are essential.  The cardinal sin is being skylined.  If possible, stay out of the water to avoid transmitting the noise from your boots.
• Read the water 10-20 yards downstream where your fly will be working, not what's straight in front of you.  In rocky runs there may be several spread across each block of width.  Every lie may require a different casting angle and presentation, so fish them specifically: don't rely on the swing to do the work for you.
• Keep an eye on the depth, remembering that the deepest section may be just in front of you.  While fresh salmon may come up 4' 6" or so in medium paced water, in faster and more turbulent conditions this may be reduced, so be ready to change to a heavier fly to get down into their taking envelope.  In clear water with small flies this may mean using a tungsten conehead or a brass bottle: my little MCX 1/2" coneheads worked a treat.
• On such small rivers you are unlikely to be using the full length of your line or head, which can make turnover an issue, especially with heavier flies.  A sinking polyleader is a boon in those circumstances, and in fast water you can go one or two steps beyond normal up the sinking scale to get the effect you want.
• In the smoother stretches and runs the fish will be concentrated on or close to the main flow line.  In some cases on the Gruinard they were within a band no more than 4-6 feet wide, which is where you should concentrate your efforts.  Cast just far enough beyond the band to get your fly set up and working properly, and no further.  Choose your casting angle and employ mends to keep your fly working in the band for the maximum time possible.  Both of the salmon taken on the Saturday were caught using this approach.
• Ensure your wading stick is fitted with a good rubber tip.  In small rivers the clatter of a bare metal end on rocks is a sure-fire scarer of fish that may be as little as 10-15 feet away.
• Invest in a quick patch wader repair outfit.  On small Highland rivers there are lots of things lurking along the banks capable of making holes, and these self-adhesive patches provide a quick and effective remedy.
• The 11' 6" Tool DH still puts a big smile on my face that the 10 years since its purchase have only enhanced.  A small double-hander is a wonderfully flexible and fun answer to the demands of small Highland river fishing.
• Everything is improved by the people with whom you share the experience.  Friends are the best part of salmon fishing.

Old Hat

 

Maybe Airlines

Maybe we fly, maybe we don't

Maybe we crash, maybe we don't

Maybe we die, maybe we don't

Sarajevo 1995

This faithful hat has been with me for every step of my salmon-fishing journey, through rain, shine, snow and ice.  Finally, faded under the impacts of wear, tear and rot, it has fallen apart and now must retire.  I'm sad to lose my constant companion.  Whether it was a lucky hat I'll never know, but for 30 years we shared wonderful days and blank days alike.  For all those reasons I feel moved to tell its story.

It bears the logo of Maybe Airlines, the name given by the mordantly humorous Norwegian Movement Controllers to the incredibly brave, skilful and sometimes drunk Ukrainian contract pilots who flew a motley collection of ex-Soviet transport aircraft into and out of Sarajevo under fire in support of the United Nations during the Bosnian War 1992-95. 

The Serbs held Mount Igman and the hills dominating the airport and much of the ground under the final approach path.  An IL-76, a giant barn under some wings and 4 jet engines, was a large, slow-moving target and especially vulnerable while taxiing on the ground.  You approached at night  at altitude before entering a steep spiral descent, then levelled out, took aim at the minimal intermittent runway lights and landed at speed with maximum reverse thrust. 

Once on the taxi-way the back ramp went down, and with the aircraft still moving you threw your bergen out, then followed it into the darkness.  Once the new arrivals were clear, the outgoing passengers reversed the process, throwing their bags in and running up the ramp.  The aircraft never stopped moving, because halting invited mortar fire.  Sometimes things went wrong as evidenced by the wrecked IL-76 at the far end of the runway.  I remain in awe of the bravery and skill of the Maybe crews, and I wore their hat with pride in memory of their service.

In the beginning with the hat, an inherited rod, and the adulation of an admiring dog.....

15 years on, with increasing confidence and success.....

With some very large wild trout along the way......

Year 20 and a serious salmon......

Year 27.......

Spanning a new generation of salmon anglers.....

Year 30 the last wash too many and disintegration

Farewell old friend, but you won't be thrown away.

Just When I Thought.....

 .......it couldn't get worse, it did.  Murphy the weather man was alive, well and kicking brutally throughout 2025.

I finished the last post, Stark Contrasts, on an optimistic note following disappointments on the Orkla and Tweed.  After all, who wouldn't be optimistic with the prospect of a week's fishing on the lovely Helmsdale in early September?  And surely the great Yorkshire drought would have to break at some point?

Helmsdale

Both hopes were cruelly dashed.  The week on the Helmsdale was a fruitless pastime of 'find a puddle among the boulders' and then try something extraordinary to provoke a potted fish into doing something daft.

Lower section, normally fished with a 13 footer
The water in the foreground is less than 18" deep
Grilse were getting this far from the estuary (around the corner)

Upper section
No fishable water

A fishable puddle at Suisgill
Prone casting rock (R) and fish location (L)

During the course of the week I found three puddles holding salmon, and moved fish in all three, but without achieving connection.  I assessed all three events as being a combination of boredom and curiosity, but not genuine taking interest.  In tiny pools with minimal gin-clear water and multitudinous rocks the fishing and watercraft demands were extreme.  Presentation had to be pinpoint accurate with zero disturbance or drag.  The rocks precluded standing off and working at range.  You had to sit down well away from the puddle, stay below the skyline, survey the scene, locate awake fish and decide the attack plan, which could take 45 minutes.  The approach then required high levels of fieldcraft: I hadn't done sustained crawling since giving up deer stalking in 2007.  I cursed myself for leaving my gardening knee pads (brilliant for close quarter trout fishing) at home for the damage to knees and waders alike, but despite the discomfort, the challenge was irresistible.  Faced with an otherwise hopeless quest you have to convert despair into motivation and enjoyment.

In two cases the fishing range was under 20 feet, which are familiar circumstances for a small river trout fisherman, albeit more normally tackled with a 7' #3 rather than a 9' 6" #7.  You have to stay under 30 degrees elevation from the fish, but even then, in strong light (if at all possible, never approach from the sunny side), it may perceive your diffused outline through the reflective underside of the surface.  And remember your rod!  You also need to learn some new tricks: reclining on your right side on the back-slope of a flat rock while side-casting into the breeze with your left hand with only 6' of line outside the tip ring to shoot enough line to allow stripping was a novel challenge.

The most successful fly solution was a hitched Sunray in the MCX colour scheme.  At my request Peter Nightingale had made side holes in the tubes to allow oblique presentation; otherwise a hot darning needle does the DIY job.  The leader had to be plain nylon for flotation rather than my usual fluorocarbon, with a light #12 double tied on a loose loop adjusted to present the hook level with the end of the wing.  In one larger and deeper pot I was able to try a Muddler and then an upstream small Snaelda fished drift-sink-and-draw.  Neither yielded a positive result, whereas the hitched Sunray moved fish in every case.  But the bottom line was that I blanked - again.

Four rods caught only one salmon in the week.  TTMN, fishing a normal fly entirely conventionally landed a good 15 lbs hen fish in the Suisgill pool in the gathering gloom 20 minutes before dinner on the Saturday evening.  This was hugely welcome and most appropriate because this was probably his swansong on his beloved Helmsdale after 40+ years.  Sometimes, however rare, Murphy can be just, kind and smiling.  However, now that TTMN has given up his weeks it is unlikely that I shall ever return to this beautiful place, a sad thought.

I would be remiss if I didn't mention the new Suisgill ghillie Aaron Grant who has succeeded the legendary Donnie Sutherland.  Despite Donnie's departure I still fished his flies out of deference and well-placed fear: he turned up to inspect on the Thursday.  Throughout the week Aaron was unfailingly cheerful, positive and helpful.  Despite his tender years he knows his water and his stuff.  I wish him a long and happy tenure at Suisgill.

The UPS Comedy

Aaron was also incredibly obliging on a personal note amidst a comedy of errors.  Our host broke a section of his Vision Hero on the first day.  I emailed Guide Fly Fishing that evening and by 0900 the next morning a replacement was on its way (hurrah!) with UPS (oh, gloom!).  The UPS tracker said it would arrive on Wednesday night.  It moved rapidly to Inverness, where it stopped and then vanished.  I contacted the UPS service centre somewhere on the far side of the world from which I learnt nothing.  A call to their local office established that UPS don't deliver north of Inverness, where they sub-contract to a local firm, to whom they'd transferred the package earlier that day.  I called the sub-contractor: "we've got the parcel but don't know where it is".   My second call: "It's in Thurso (they'd driven past me to get there) and is coming back to Inverness (passing me again)".  "Could I collect it from Thurso? No".  "Could they drop it at their depot (??) in Helmsdale on the way past southwards?  No, it's unmanned (???).  When might it reach me at Suisgill?  We only deliver up there once per week, so it will be next week.  But I'll be gone by then so please return to the sender".  They delivered it to Suisgill in my absence on the Monday, stating that it had been handed over to me.  The good Aaron duly took charge of the parcel.

Aware that my host was due to fish the Tweed within a fortnight, I called Guide Fly Fishing to discuss a plan.  They cheerfully volunteered to send another section to my home address, timed to coincide with my return, whence I could post it to my host at home in Oxfordshire.  UPS delivered it to Suisgill the following week (you'd have difficulty making this up).  Aaron now had two rod sections, which he taped together and posted via Royal Mail, arriving in Yorkshire 48 hours later.  I had the greatest difficulty persuading him to accept repayment or any compensation for his efforts and inconvenience.  Meanwhile Guide posted a third section to me at home, which reached my host in good time for his Tweed trip.

In a long lifetime of fishing I have enjoyed unfailingly good service from the tackle trade.  But nothing has ever approached the cheerful heroism and forbearance of Liam the customer service lead at Guide Fly Fishing recounted here.  I know it's been a bit long and detailed, but he's a one man clinching argument for investing in Vision or Sage equipment.

Autumn on the Ure

Back in February I had booked six double rod days on Thoresby, spread in pairs across the last week of September and the first fortnight of October.  I made the heroic assumption that even if the summer was dry, there ought to be some water by the time of the Autumn Equinox.  There was, but it was too little, too late.  The first rain came on the 15th, followed by another lift a week later.  But it was woefully insufficient to clear the lower Ouse and then permit a run through to the upper Ure.  My September guest had come all the way from Wiltshire, so we fished half a day and abandoned the second altogether.  There were no fish present.  By early October the water had fallen away completely, so I cancelled to spare my guests wasted shorter trips.  HMCX came up from Bath for the final two-day block and our annual father and son bonding fishing and stay at the Redmire Village Pub (previously the Bolton Arms).  More rain and a moderate lift gave us at least some water, but there were still no fish.  We saw one lonely traveller of about 6 lbs appear on Day 2, before HMCX departed home at lunchtime. I fished on for a couple of hours to pay my respect to the fishing gods but without hope or expectation, while testing a demonstrator Vision XO Graphene 14' 2".  It was a depressing end to an appalling season - a total blank, the first since the great drought and heatwave of 2003.  The impact on my fishing morale was such that it has taken me two months to muster the motivation to write anything.

HMCX fishing the tail of Frodle Dub
historically a good bet at this time of year

Deep Concern

After two consecutive blank seasons on the Ure, with the majority of my guests' days cancelled, I have growing concern over the change in weather patterns we observed in the past decade.  In the 10 years to 2014 we had a normal spread of conditions: 3 dry hot years (2003, 5, 9), 2 very wet (2007, 12), and 5 about average.  There was nothing in that spread that gave any hint of what was to come after 2014.  Seven of the 10 succeeding years have been hot and dry throughout the salmon season.  Only one (2017) had above average rainfall.  The temperature levels have climbed unbelievably: 2016 broke all records until being far exceeded in three of the past 5 years.  In 2025 we had just 25 mm of rain in the Vale of York between 1st March and 15th September - 7.5% of average.  Tributary becks ran dry, Aysgarth Falls stopped flowing and across North Yorkshire aquifers are perilously depleted.   Pollution levels, especially the E Coli counts associated with cow excrement, reached record levels, leading to a ban on bathing.  This was unremitting gloom.

However, the biggest problem was far downstream.  While the flow in the Ouse through York dwindled to previously unrecorded levels, the output from the Naburn water treatment plant serving 300,000 people continued undiminished and thus occupying an increasing proportion of downstream water.  With a growing supply problem and dry reservoirs in the West Riding, Yorkshire water increased abstraction at Kilgram, and then in August secured a licence to take a further 60,000 tons per day from below Boroughbridge.  The combination of dramatically reduced flow, the increased proportion of treated water and exceptionally high temperatures, may have created a static plug of de-oxygenated water at the head of the tide between Selby and Goole.  Once the dissolved oxygen count falls below 5 ppm, salmon can't swim through it.

This factor played a major part in the extinction of salmon in the Ouse system in the 1950s.  From the early 1980s the water quality started to improve as a result of de-industrialisation in York and Selby, better standards applied at Naburn and stricter environmental regulations.  

After the unusually hot summer of 1995 salmon were able to run freely throughout the spring, summer and autumn.  The hot drought year of 2003 is a visible exception.  By 2010 the dissolved oxygen count was so good that the EA suspended measurement.

I had wished to write this section with the help of real current data drawn from the new 'Open Government' data sets available on .Gov.  However, after an hour of frustrated searching and digging I was unable to locate and extract anything of the necessary currency and granularity.  I wanted monthly averages at Boothferry Bridge for the decade 2016-25.  All I could locate was pan-year averages for 2016-19, which are no use whatsoever.  The advice on the site was that if I wanted more detail I should submit a FOI request to the EA, which of course was what you had to do before the Open Government initiative.

Consequently, I have to fall back on the reasonable assumption that the combination of the longest recorded drought, the lowest prolonged flows and the highest average temperature may have recreated the devastating oxygen block; and that these conditions may have prevailed in other recent years.  If that is indeed correct, then we face potentially incalculable impacts on the Ure's salmon population.  The salmon surprised us with the speed of their recovery - from post-extinction to good fishable surplus in a decade - and we can only hope that they can do so again.  But there's no escaping the inference of two blank seasons on a beat that previously gave me up to 28 salmon in a season.  I am deeply concerned.

Minor Tackle Points

Vision Rivermaniac 9' 6" #7 (Medium)

The discolouration of the cork is blood
from my fall on the Guinard  in
July 2024

This is the second season that I have used the medium action Rivermaniac for short-range single-handed salmon work.  I find the action delightful for overhead, Spey, Roll and ad-hoc casting with the Rio #7 Single Handed Spey line.  Unlike still water fishing you aren't striving for distance, so the softer tip isn't a handicap and certainly doesn't prevent you from landing the fly accurately and quietly.  And it's a definite advantage in creating ad-hoc casts (as per the Helmsdale above).

It's my fall back and go to rod for smaller rivers and low water, of which I've seen too much recently.  I also find hitching with a high rod tip much easier with a single hander than a double.

The reel is the budget Hero #7, which is well made and very tough.  My fall on the Gruinard left no significant damage to the heavy green powder coating, but I had to replace the handle that had taken the brunt of the impact.  The spool and spindle remained entirely true.  It's a great workhorse with a lovely handle and an impressive drag.

The best design feature is something I first encountered on the Rulla (tested 2015 but now sadly out of production).  You can see the red backing - a true salmon's worth - nestling in the concave section below the main arbor.  This gives you the double advantage of large capacity in a smaller reel, in a simple bit of elegant design.

On the question of backing, the salmon doesn't know what size of reel you're using, and nor may you only catch small fish with a single hander.  So be prepared: there's 125 yards on there.

Vision XO Graphene 14' 2" #9

I borrowed the demonstrator from Guide Fly Fishing and took it up to the Ure for two days in early October.  The relatively low water on Thoresby and the strong downstream breeze weren't ideal for testing, so I didn't get it out until the afternoon of the second day after HMCX had gone home.  I matched it with a Danielsson Control #9/13 and a Rio Scandi 37g head, which balanced exactly.

I'd had a few casts about 5 years ago with the non-Graphene 14' 2" and didn't immediately warm to it, so I came into this test with a degree of prejudice.

Flesh Dub in autumn
(earlier photo)

Frodle Dub was nowhere near big enough, so I went down to Flesh Dub for more room.  Even with left hand Double Spey and Snake Roll, the head of the pool was too narrow when wading far enough out to form a good D-loop to explore the rod's capabilities.  At short range it felt a little flat and dull. For reference, with an oblique cast around 50 degrees, bank to bank is 38 yards.  I tried a couple of casts at a very shallow angle before going down to the tail onto the ledge between the trees.  There I had the room to form the biggest possible D-loop (which this rod needs) and more distance in front.

So it's a left handed Double Spey, with three generous loops of runner in the fingers of the right hand, a good full low sweep to get maximum momentum into the D, a nice high stop, and the fly lands 10' up the far bank: quite remarkable.  The addition of Graphene has done something special to this rod: it's a through action and loads really deeply in classic Vision style.  The recovery at the stop in the forward cast is extraordinary.  Combining those two potentially conflicting characteristics without apparent compromise is a serious achievement.  

I wouldn't wish to draw too many firm conclusions from such a short test by someone who isn't a first-class caster.  I should have loved to explore the right handed casts, but the wind didn't allow it.  Next season I shall try to borrow it again for use on the Tweed, where there are also opportunities for sinking and other lines.  But its remarkable performance has certainly whetted my appetite for further exploration.  If you get a chance to try one, grab the opportunity because you too may feel some magic.

Happy Christmas

I apologise for there being no MCX Christmas Stocking this year.  My motivation didn't recover in time and there seemed to be a dearth of interesting items to recommend.

Nevertheless I wish everyone the happiest Christmas and everything good in 2026.  Above all I wish for a a nice plain average year's weather in a break from the past decade's dreadful trend.  A bit of normal would be a wonderful gift.

Just One Week is now heading for the milestone of 400,000 page reads since its inception. I am most grateful for your continued readership and support.