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.