The Vital (Missing) Ingredient

Picture perfect
a fat 2 lbs Rye wild brown trout
June 2015

It's an unusual year when I don't have at least one rant at the weather.  Sometimes I wrap the rant in a bit of science (see How Long Can This Go On?), but more often it's just a straightforward rant born of frustration at not being able to fish.  Of course it's June, so I don't normally expect to be out on the Ure after salmon, but rather on the Rye bothering the trout.  Yes, it's summer, but for most of the past two months it's been hard to detect.  We've been locked in a cool northerly airstream that's endured from the early spring.  But whatever the upper levels of the atmosphere have been doing, down here on Planet Yorkshire it's been cold, windy and very dry.

Rainfall in the Vale of York 2015

As you can see from the graph, it's been exceptionally dry.  Only May was anywhere near the long term average, but this amount of water wasn't enough to bring many fish up into Wensleydale.  The head of this year's cohort of springers appears to have got just beyond Ripon. Perhaps the efflux from Theakston's Brewery in Masham proved an irresistible attraction.  It makes sense: Theakstons support the Ure Salmon Trust; and in return the salmon endorse my opinion that Theakston's XB is one of the finest ales on the planet.

Environment Agency gauge at Kilgram

The effect is obvious.  This is what salmon fishing depression looks like - a straight and level line telling me that the Ure, in common with all the rivers in North East England is down on its bones.  It's been like that for a month and looks set to stay that way.  All we can hope for is an earlier onset of rain than last year, when the river didn't rise until 17th October.

River Findhorn at Tomatin
3rd week September, 2002-2011
Average height and variation

For all salmon anglers water is the vital ingredient.  The graph showing our experience over a decade at Tomatin underlines the simple point: if there's no water, you're pressed; if there is, then you can catch plenty of salmon.  The stellar years of 2004, 10 and 11 are highlighted. The party took around 40 fish in 2004, compared to 4-5 in the drought years of 2002, 3 and 9.  In contrast, 2006 and didn't quite make the level or the grade, whereas 2007 came good, but only with a rise later in the week.  In the case of Tomatin, the data shows that pleasure starts at +12".



All that said, we have to accept the variability of the natural world.  In childhood my father impressed upon me that there was no point worrying about the things you can't change. However, for all the compensations of the trout and the garden (it's really beautiful this year) I miss the odd day out after salmon.  I had a dream recently, almost certainly prompted by booking a week's fishing in Norway in 2016, in which I could actually sense the flexing of the butt of the Vision MAG in a perfect Single Spey cast on a crystal river.  That must be the definition of salmon fixation, but perhaps that's what you expect from me.  In any event the only perfect Single Spey I ever achieve is in my dreams!

But in all things there are reasons for optimism.  Throughout history, from Nostrodamus via Malthus to the Club of Rome ("all the world's oil will run out on 17th February 1984") and today's gloomsters, the pessimists have all and always been wrong.  It's easy to paint a rich and convincing picture of disaster and gloom, which through its vivid colour gains credibility and convinces people of its likelihood.  The trouble is that the human fear of the downside far exceeds the attraction of the upside, so except when hysteria takes over - like in economic bubbles involving black tulips, South Sea spices, Victorian railway shares and post 1970 residential property - we tend to believe the prophets of doom.  But for my part, I'm an optimist: it's hard to be a salmon fisherman without optimism.

Top of the Water - Upper Bolton Hall

It's been a while since I last wrote.  When I returned from the Dee in early April, Yorkshire went into a cool, windy and exceptionally dry spring - 14mm of rain when you're meant to get an April average of 60mm is unhelpful for salmon and anglers alike.  There were plenty of fish stacked up in the Ouse around York waiting to run up the system, but without rain they were going nowhere very slowly.  We needed a good two weeks' rain to generate a 2 metre spate and then keep the river well up for at least 10 days.  In early May my prayers were answered, at precisely the time I had to go to Qatar on business.  As my wife says, "it's never right for you and fishing", but there again she's not a student of Murphy's Laws.  If she was, multi-tasking would be right off the agenda.  By the time I'd got home, adjusted to the 40 degree temperature change, spent 2 days in London and sorted myself out, the Ure at Kilgram had fallen to +55cm, viable but certainly not optimal for spring fishing.  That note of pessimism merits explanation.  Springers are rare at the best of times, and to have a chance of connecting you need them to be alert and mobile: your best chance of catching them is at at short halts between moving.  Once they 'drop anchor', go deep and switch off they become extremely hard to catch except during a few short periods of activity during the day and early evening.  Nevertheless my waders had been dry for far too long: I was desperate to put a fly onto the water and the 20 mph wind meant that bothering trout would be pretty miserable, so it was time to load up the salmon boxes and head off to Wensleydale.

The latest improvement at Bolton Hall is a smart new hut facing onto the Lord's Pool, complete with an enclosure to protect your wing mirrors and paint from amorous cattle with an itch to scratch.  It's warm, dry and a most welcome addition.  It was a real boon when changing with the temperature gauge showing 8.5C and a 20 mph wind: this is Yorkshire, where summer remains an elusive concept.

In the event the level of the Lord's Pool was too low, so I went upstream to work some of my favourite spots.  The ash tree on the right is a hardy perennial marker where I hooked and lost a springer last season.  With the air at 9C and water at 11C; a moderate flow; medium clarity and dull conditions this was a solid 6 on the MCX scale.  As this stretch isn't deep there was no need for sink tips, just a medium sized Cascade double on 12 feet of fluorocarbon.

The lack of water was more apparent at the bend below: another 12-15 cm would have been much better.  In this pool the fish hold just upstream from the large rock in the centre of the picture on the far bank, but it's not much more than a 20 yard cast to cover the lies.  Sadly there was nothing happening that morning, so I fished down to the head of Park before breaking for lunch, which I'd obtained at the West Witton village stores.  They have a good selection of locally baked pies and pasties, and excellent scotch eggs, which are all ideal high-energy foods that fit easily into the back pocket of the wading jacket.  Just don't panic about the cardiac issues - you'll only worry yourself into an early grave!


After lunch I set out for the top of the Bolton Hall water.  Until now my ability to explore the full length had been constrained by my conventional estate car and unreadiness to march long distances through the bushes.  To the amazement of many I could get it to places few others ventured - even down to the river at Thoresby on one occasion - but on Bolton Hall the end of West Wood was my limit.  With the onset of partial retirement I've changed to something with 4 wheel drive and 9" of ground clearance - there's no point having leisure time and limited mobility.  It's not a serious mud-plugger in the Land Rover mode, but it certainly crosses fields and banks much better than a Mercedes estate.

Top of the beat looking upstream

Reaching the top of the Bolton Water just below Redmine was a revelation, a joy to behold.  It evoked happy memories of the Alness and the upper Carron with more trees added: characterful, lively and full of interesting runs, deep pots and holding pools.  There are several faults in the limestone that produce falls or channels, depending on which way the river is flowing.

This is shorter rod territory: at this level 12' was ample; or 13' when the river's up and you need a heavier front end.

And downstream

It's stunningly pretty at this time of year.  Sadly the photographs taken in very dull light don't do the scenes justice.  The greens are spectacular. The only drawback was that the pool shown was heaving with small sea trout: you could barely get a salmon fly into the water without an all-out assault.  The first cast yielded a very pretty fresh peal of around a pound with a beautiful blue sheen.  By the time I reached the bottom I'd landed 2 and missed about half a dozen. it will be interesting to return for an evening in July with a single handed rod to meet their elder brothers.

200 metres of heaven

The runs and pools follow in steady procession, with views to excite any angler.  This isn't big water, but you have to be flexible and inventive with your casting to fish it well.  There's a full 2 metres depth of water on the centre-line here, and enough flow in the water to work the fly all the way down to the neck at the bottom.  There were fewer sea trout in this pool, but one solid brownie of over 2 pounds decided that a #8 Cascade comprised a late lunch.

This picture will spark happy thoughts in anyone who's fished the Alness.  The difference here is that it leads into...

...a proper pool.  Come September I wish to be on this spot, grinning from ear to ear.  The old Lord Bolton remarked in his fishing diary that he'd never caught a fish in this pool, but judged that  "it could hold every fish in the river".  I concur with his judgement but aspire to doing better.

Around the right angle bend the limestone fault runs parallel to the flow and thus drives the river into a narrow defile with a series of deep pots and runs (like the Carron beside Amat House, but with more water).  There are so many possible lies that you have to fish every inch to be sure that you've exploited all your chances.  Some of it is at point-blank range with only a few metres of line outside the tip; in other places you're standing back 15-20 metres to fish at the narrowest possible angle in order to keep the fly in play as long as possible.

It then opens out into the long Neild's Dub, where your wading line down the right side is on a continuous flat limestone ledge.  You have to be wary of stepping off the drop into deep water, whilst also being aware that fish could be lying within a metre of your toes.

West Wood 1

After by-passing the small runs above Batt Island I reached the familiar West Wood 1.  Sadly it was too low for good fishing, so after a brief session with some different set-ups I called it a day, finishing almost 2 hours early without touching a salmon.  But I wasn't in the least disappointed.  Fishing this beautiful stretch of water was uplifting and stimulating.  The odds of catching a springer in most places are poor, but I felt they were as good here as anywhere, which kept me completely focused for a whole afternoon.  At £40 for the day ticket this is the best value delight around.  Bring on the water!

JW's Fly Box - Echoes of the Past

All my small items of tackle spend the off season in the Great Fishing Chest (GFC) at the top of the stairs.  I took out all my salmon gear in late March: once it's stowed in the car boxes and wading jacket it remains there until the end of the season.  Last week thoughts of spring prompted me to go into the GFC to out-load the trout gear into my tackle vest.  Even after these two exercises there's still all manner of stuff in there, which in turn conceals other stuff, which over time gets forgotten.

After I'd got all the trout kit from its appointed places, in an idle moment I poked around in the depths of the far left bottom corner.  Lurking there under a pile of spare salmon lines was one of my grandfather's salmon fly boxes.  To be precise, a Hardy 'Neroda' bakelite box in 'Oxblood' shade.  This first appeared in their catalogue in 1934, so this box is probably of pre-war vintage.  The wear suggests that this had been a favourite.  It had lain undisturbed in that corner of the GFC since I inherited it on my father's death in 1992.

The contents were an echo of times past.  The flies are all tied on single hooks, the largest of which are around 4/0 long shank.  Several have gut eyes, whipped onto the spade-ended shanks and concealed by the dressing.  These are clearly visible in the photos below.  Some have clearly been used.  JW fished in Scotland and Ireland; and on the Tees, Wear, Ure, Axe, Exe and Torridge in England.  I haven't seen flies hooked and dressed like this for over 50 years, and am unable to recognise the patterns.

If you recognise any of those patterns, please let me know via the Comment tab.

JW in the 1950s
Salmon from the Axe or Exe
Hardy glass rod, Alcock multiplier

My grandfather, perennially known as 'JW', but addressed as 'Sir', was a most remarkable man.  He was born at Askrigg beside the Ure (I can see it from High Thoresby); half of his siblings died in an influenza epidemic in the 1880s; at age 3 his father, the village policeman, was murdered on duty; at 12 he walked the 60 miles to Hartlepool to get a job as the boy clerk in a 2-man start-up business; and at 35 he was managing director of the large company it had become.  Although he spent his later years living in Devon, he remained a Yorkshireman to his core.  Salmon fishing remained his greatest joy until he suffered a stroke spring fishing on the Exe at the age of 82.  Sadly he fell backwards onto the bank to survive into a lingering death, rather than forwards into the water to be carried away as he would have wished.  I think he would be gratified by my preoccupation with his favoured sport.

A Blackthorn Winter

We are currently undergoing a phenomenon known locally as a Blackthorn Winter, in that the blackthorn is flowering beautifully, but it still feels like winter - cool, windy and very, very dry - and most plants are running late.  Last night we had 3 degrees of frost.  We are almost at the end of April, and we've had 2 showers amounting to 4mm of rain against an average of 55mm.  This follows March 18/50mm and February 14/70mm.  Despite my exceptional  efforts - washing the car, watering the vegetable patch - there's no sign of substantial rain.  The garden is as dry as a bone and the rivers are exceptionally low for the time of year.  The springers can't get up nor the kelts down.  There isn't even enough water to exercise the Vision MAG 13 footer I've got on trial.  As a result I'll have no salmon fishing to write about until all together you deliver a truly effective rain dance......please.

Blackthorn Winter
Very low, very clear, very bright, 10C
River Rye
27th April 2015

Bonny Dee - Hope Expectation and Reality

Bonny Dee
Upper Kirk Pool, Waterside & Ferrar Beat
Fresh snow on the Cairngorms

Despite last year's disappointment with a blank Spring on the Dee, we re-booked 3 days in early April on Waterside and Ferrar.  This was of course completely irrational: based on the 5 year average for this beat, the realistic expectation would be 1.2 fish between 4 rods in the 3 days.  Put another way, the chance of me catching a salmon might touch 10%, which are pretty poor odds, especially when set against 700 miles of driving and the costs.  But salmon fishing isn't wholly rational: you have to be a mite daft to take it up in the first place, and if you are one of a group of 4 equally daft anglers, the effect is collective and cumulative.  Of course we persistently override reality in our pursuit of this beautiful fish - and springers are the pinnacle - in wonderful surroundings with like-minded, if rather deranged friends.  Then there's the challenge: if catching salmon was as simple as mackerel, we wouldn't bother. When I was a small child my first few mackerel trips were exciting, but that soon waned, which led me to seek the greater challenge of bass.  It took me 3 summers of unremitting persistence from age 8 till 10 to succeed, with more than a few tears of disappointment and frustration along the way.  Forty years later it symmetrically took me 3 seasons of just one week's fishing to catch my first Scottish salmon on a fly.  I was equally frustrated but I'd learned how not to cry: more important things had entered my life in the intervening years to add perspective and balance.

But the greatest challenge of all is the early springer, for the simple reason that they are relatively few in number.  It's not that they're difficult to catch per se: if a spring salmon is in taking mode and you put the fly in the right place, it's as undiscerning as any mackerel.  If it's not, then you're hunting a unicorn: myth says it exists but no one has seen one.  It's the beauty, muscularity, arm-numbing stamina and difficulty that tempts us to pick up the gauntlet.  The springer is almost a different animal, possessed of far greater power and speed than its muscle-depleted autumn siblings.  For those reasons my father and grandfather focused their efforts on spring fishing rather than the easier balmy autumn. But in their days the spring runs were a greater proportion of the whole (75% on the Dee); the odds correspondingly better; and they used spinners whenever the water was up more than 12 inches.  Equipped with their genes and Yorkshire grit, I'm just a little bit more daft than both of them, and a lot more hardened by today's lesser spring opportunities.

Morning sunlight sparkling on the Dee

Walking to the Water (a conundrum of contrasts)

Day 1 - crystal clear

The first morning presented an immediate challenge to the MCX Scoring System.  The water was at a good height (+12")(2) and flowing briskly (2) but crystal clear in bright sunlight (1).  It was also as cold as you might expect in a river fed by mountain snow melt (7C)(3).    The aggregate score of 8 would normally suggest very good fishing conditions and the use of a medium to large fly fished on a sink tip.  However, the combination of cold and extreme clarity introduced a conundrum and so prompted more thought.

Window 1 at depth 1 metre
Stick in centre field at 2 metres range

Nor were the conditions as clear-cut as they seemed on first inspection.  As a result of the very bright mid-morning sunlight, the visibility near the bottom - usually a murky place - was exceptional.  The visual range in the left of the photo is almost 3 metres.  If you could get the fly down there, then the salmon could detect it easily.  However, the green vegetable tint in the water, not visible from above, and the brightness of the rocks give a hint of the big problem.

Windows 2 & 3 at 45 degrees elevation
Sun glare and chronic light back-scatter

The intensity of the light in the upper quadrant and the high levels of back-scatter would trigger the salmon's de-sensitising retinal pigmentation.  In the absence of an iris to control the light entering the eye, the salmon uses a slow-changing pigment to protect the retina and especially its delicate low-light capability. It's like putting on sunglasses.  The effect is across the whole field of view and determined by the brightest segment.  This would reduce the salmon's detection range in the darker windows, and thus diminish the time available to react to the fly.  Moreover, the cold water could reduce the taking distance  (explained in Deep Thinking).  This logical process explains why fishing the fly too fast in cold water can be a serious error.  The requirement here was for a smaller fly than the 8 score implied; fished deep and below the normal optimum 45 degree elevation; and as slowly as possible in the prevailing flow.

This led me into a debate with Davie the Waterside ghillie.  I was inclined towards a medium speed sinking head (Guideline Scandi I/S2/S3) and a dark fly.  Davie cautioned against that solution on the grounds of the shallowness of the margins at the dangle, where I'd fight a lot of rocks, lose flies and waste time.  His advice was an intermediate or slow sinker, or a faster sinking polyleader, to present a medium sized orange fly.  You don't argue with that level of experience, and in any event someone had hooked a very big fish the previous week on precisely that set-up, which clinched the debate (even though they'd eventually lost it).

Guideline Scandi F/H/S1
Joseph's technicolour dream-line

In response I set up 2 rigs.  The first, for the main body and tails of the pools, was the Guideline slow sinking head - a wondrously glamorous iridescent blue - with a 5' slow sinking polyleader and 8' of fluorocarbon tippet.  If there's a prettier fly line on the market I've not seen it.  The second for faster water comprised a floating Rio Scandi head, a 10' fast sinking polyleader and 5' of fluorocarbon with a larger fly.  You will note that in each case there was an adequate length and mass of anchor to limit the effect of the short shooting heads.  Without that provision your anchor will persistently pull out and reduce the power of your cast, especially if you do things too quickly.  Both rigs cast well and turned over nicely, despite a demanding wind that strengthened over the 3 days, exceeding 20 mph on the Saturday.  But throughout I was nagged by the feeling that I just wasn't deep enough in the centre of the pools.  On the other hand, I didn't catch many rocks and only lost one fly.

On the water - The Kirks

Duguid's Run viewed from the Kirk mound

Yes, it really was this bright and the blue water is not a filter or Photoshop enhancement: it's just an exact reflection of the colour of the sky.  It was so striking that I stopped the car to get out and spend some time admiring the view.

 During the course of the morning the air temperature shot up from a chilly 6C into the teens.  Actually that was rather welcome as my bottom half, immersed in water at 7C, needed all the warmth it could get.

Upper Kirk
looking upstream from the right bank

Upper Kirk fishes well from both banks, although you can only wade safely on the left.  There you can employ your full casting repertoire.  With the prevailing wind coming downstream it helps to be good off your left shoulder. The running line is easy to reach at the head, but shifts further away and narrows as you progress down the pool, whilst the shallows on the left expand.  This means that you are casting an ever-increasing distance to fish a diminishing arc, which requires a completely straight leader deployment to make the fly effective on arrival.  That's a very demanding brief.  The edge of the photo represented a sensible limit beyond which there was no benefit in fishing.

Heading into Lower Kirk
Right bank

In contrast you fish the right side entirely from the bank.  This isn't a problem as even at the top of the Upper pool the running line is within easy reach of a good jump roll cast, as long as you don't try too hard (and blow the anchor) or cast too square.  Both mistakes catch grass.  The bugbear is the profusion of shallow stretches filled with magnetic rocks to trap your fly if you're not alert at the dangle.  It's best to walk around these and concentrate on the high-value lies.  There are 5 or 6 lies visible in this photo, starting with the one immediately to the right of the red tape on the rod (there's another directly below the first ring only 4 yards out).  But it's essential to stop and think before you start.  The most common mistake - no surprise - is the 1st Deadly Sin of Dumb Distance.  Don't always cast to maximum range: tailor the line length to achieve optimum presentation to the lie, which in the red tape case is on the near side of the swirl.  If you cast beyond it your leader will get caught up in the swirl and your fly will pass the fish at high speed at an odd angle and be disregarded.  The better solution is a more oblique cast from further back, which will achieve the slower presentation you need in cold water.  The key point is don't stick to a fixed angle and distance: vary both to suit the lies and the flow.  That requires looking ahead for the lies and making a plan for covering them effectively.  Dumb distance (and angle) is indeed a sin when dealing with water as good and varied as this pool.  On the other hand, I didn't catch anything, but at least I felt I had given myself the best possible chance.

Waterside

Waterside
Looking upstream

Like the Kirks, Waterside requires the full range of casts from the left bank, and deft roll casting from the right.  The running line  is towards the right side throughout its length, so again you don't have to over-cook your rolling efforts.  However, the bigger problem here is the wind.  Whereas the right bank of Kirk is sheltered by trees, anything westerly swirls straight down Waterside.  On the Saturday we had a gusty 20 mph wind coming downstream and inwards at about 30 degrees.  In such conditions you must think carefully about how you will overcome the challenge: but don't panic!

Waterside
Right bank looking downstream
Note the wind 'cat's paws' on the surface

These are the conditions where the relatively short Scandi (or the ultra-short Skagit) lines come into their own, on account of their minimal requirement for back space for a usable D-loop.  With a 20 mph downstream wind a Single Spey would be downright dangerous.  But you might doubt your ability to pull off a Double Spey on your right side owing to the confined space in the acute angle between you and the bank.  If you take it slowly and easily to ensure good anchor placement and retention, you will be surprised by what you can achieve. The alternative is a half Snake Roll to reposition the line onto your casting direction, followed by a straight Roll off the water.  Of course you're not going to achieve long range, but here both options were more than enough to cover the running line at 60 degrees: 18-20 yards was ample.  Faced with the horrid casting conditions the other rods had given up trying from this bank, which gave me a clear run down the full length of Waterside in beautiful sunshine to end my 3 days' fishing.  If you've got the right kit; a sound grasp of the basics (I'm not a good caster); and think clearly, you can generally extemporise a solution to the challenge.  Sadly the fish were unimpressed by both my virtuosity and my dedication.

Another Blank

And so ended another blank session on this beautiful river.  The facts were simple: there weren't many fish there (one hooked and lost the week before us and none landed since) and the blinding light was an exceptional handicap.  Nevertheless, I wasn't downhearted and had fished every cast in the belief that a fish was possible.  I'd revelled in the fresh air, surroundings and convivial company of my friends, feeling that I'd had a proper holiday.  That said, I don't think I'll bother re-booking for this time, and save my efforts and cash in an endeavour to get onto Waterside and Ferrar in May.  It won't be easy and may take some years to achieve.

Apparently this is Davie's last season as ghillie on Waterside - his third retirement.  He's been great company and tolerant of my hopeless jokes, for which I am most grateful.  I wish him a long and happy retirement.

Speaking of which, after almost 50 years' full time work, I've decided that the time has come to throttle back slightly.  To that end I went onto a part-time basis from April Fools' Day: time alone will show whether it was wise or foolish, but I'll certainly get more fishing and time to write about it.  That said, some water would be a good start - we're having a drought spring in Yorkshire.

But for those of you who do have water to fish, tight lines.

Chilled Tweed Pearl - A Return to Rutherford

As I noted in my last post, my very kind friend Tony invited me once again to join him for a day at Rutherford at the end of March.  Sadly his mother in law's death and funeral prevented Tony from fishing, but most generously he gave me the opportunity to take a guest to fill his place.  John  enthusiastically accepted my offer, so we set off on the Sunday evening to drive from Yorkshire to Kelso, an easy 150 miles with no traffic whatsoever beyond Newcastle.

We stayed at the Ednam House Hotel in Kelso, the archetypal Edwardian salmon fisher's resting place, which faces directly onto the Junction pool.  It's the sort of place where my grandfather would have stayed: indeed, I half expected to meet his tweed clad ghost during my stay.  There have been some changes since my last visit: the stone flagged hall in which triumphant anglers would lay out their broad shouldered Tweed salmon for all to admire, is now neatly carpeted.  Perhaps it's a sign of more modest times.  The Edwardians were great ones for shooting a line, to an even greater extent than the City yuppies of the eighties and oughties.  They loved flaunting their achievements and revelled in records and statistics in ways we'd find distasteful.   However, in a time of austerity, modesty and fewer rods on the river, the Ednam has to appeal to a wider client base.  Its recent purchase by a company that operates a chain of boutique hotels across Scotland and Northumberland suggests that even greater changes may be on the way (and probably higher prices too - this stay was good value at a B&B price for a room with a view over the river).  The morning temperature made a big breakfast essential.  I don't think breakfast gets better than a full English (or Scottish as we were on the north bank) whilst surveying the Junction Pool.

The conditions on the river reinforced the wisdom of our breakfast choice.  Air and water were evenly matched at 5C, whilst a raw westerly blew straight downstream at around 20 knots.  The river stood at a perfect +1' 4" and was clearing nicely.  Michael Farr recommended a sinking line and a medium sized fly before despatching us to the bottom quarter of the beat at Lover's Leap to fish until lunch.

Lover's Leap
looking downstream from the head

If the photograph looks a little hazy it's the shake caused by wind and cold.  The rest of me was comfortably warm with 3 layers of Simms 'ninja pyjamas' (as my friends call them), Vision Ikon Goretex waders and my ancient Snowbee jacket.  But as soon as I removed my gloves to rig up the wind cut in and my fingers developed the shaky fumbles.  That condition and the wind didn't make for a steady hand on the camera, so I've failed to do a very pretty stretch of water justice here.  It's also very 'fishy': it looks right, feels right and gives you confidence that something might just happen, all the more so as there were fish present.


Although we were more sheltered from the wind than the upper water, keeping the casting neat and tidy was still quite a challenge.  The Guideline Scandi S2/3 head cut through the turbulence without difficulty - no problem there.  The issue was with forming and preserving the D-loop in the Double Spey whilst keeping the running line under control.  Not only was there wind pressure on the rod in the 'round and up' phase, but also, as you came 'up', the D-loop staged a bid for downstream freedom despite the sustained anchor.  Achieving the perfect 180 degrees was out of the question, especially during the gusts.  In such conditions you have to fish within your limits and above all, don't try to fight the wind with physical force, because you'll just wear yourself out and cover less water.  That said, it's not easy to relax and calm down when everything seems on the edge of disarray.  But every time I did, the line flew far further and far better: if you stop worrying about perfection, then fishing in challenging conditions becomes much more enjoyable.  

I also had a pleasant surprise: last year on the Dee I had a real problem digging the Guideline head out at the end of the swing (as recorded in Sinking Feeling) and ended the day frustrated and rather angry  All is now forgiven: I retract my previous criticism because the Guideline head behaved perfectly all day, extracting smoothly and consistently.  Of course it takes effort, but this year it certainly didn't feel immovable.  The only change was the rod: last year I was using the Loop Cross S1 14 footer; and this year the much softer Vision Cult 13' 8".  I haven't a clue whether that made any difference.

On that note, this was my first outing with the Cult since the replacement of the horrid reel seat with an ALPS down-locker, and of the old Koma with the new Rulla.  The combination provides perfect balance, which makes for a very easy fishing experience.  In this circumstances you just don't have to think about the rod or change the position of your right hand between fishing and casting.  My only complaint is that the Rulla is so shiny it's massively over-exposed in the photo.  The Cult remains a most satisfying rod.  Despite its 'slow' action and 13' 8" length it covered all the water I needed all day, without fatigue.  In contrast John, fishing a 15 footer, was still stiff 3 days later.

Wading gingerly past the spot where I took a swim in February 2013 (just short of the small point on the right), I fished on down.  Everything looked and felt so right that I remained focused throughout.  This really is beautiful fishing water, with a realistically reachable running line.  The odds are never as good in the spring as they are later in the year, but to date Rutherford has been having a very good spring run, with catches significantly above the 5 year average for March.





As always lunch came too quickly and we repaired to the hut with its warming stove.  In Tony's absence there were no haggis crisps this year, although 'Anglesey Sea Salt' flavour maintained the international tendency.  One of the rods fishing the upper water had caught a couple of kelts and several fresh fish had shown during the morning, so optimism remained the order of the day, even if the forecast warned of rain in the afternoon.

Island
looking down towards Anne's Bank

With lunch complete and the river properly rested, I headed upstream to the Island, which comprises a long straight run influenced by croys  on both sides.  It's yet another Rutherford stretch that reeks of fish.  That said, optimism was the best available defence against the worsening weather as the Island is wide open.  Putting up the hood on my jacket helped, but for all its extra warmth I dislike the loss of situational awareness it brings.  I prefer to be in touch with everything around me, and so tend to put up the hood only when forced by the conditions.  In contrast, under the water things had improved by a couple of points on the MCX scale, so I put on a smaller fly - a No 6 Cascade double -  in place of the morning's 1" tube.


I fished steadily down the Island, very happy in the otherwise dour conditions.  There's an old Army saying - "any fool can be uncomfortable".  Nowadays, with all the superb bad weather clothing on the market, misery is an entirely avoidable condition.  As ever, it's worth spending a little more to get quality and durability; and don't skimp on the base layers.

After 90 minutes Michael Farr reappeared to take me up to the top of the beat to fish from the boat, whilst John carried on down from where I'd finished.  I can't say that I much enjoy casting from a boat, but on the other hand Michael's company more than compensated.  That said, he's a man with economy of language.  About half way through the session, as he hadn't said anything about it, I asked whether I was placing the fly correctly in relation to the current and boat, to which he responded "if you weren't I'd tell you soon enough".  Well, it's nice to know you're doing it right, even if indirectly.  But however well I did it, the salmon remained unstimulated.

So it was another blank day, but I'd thoroughly enjoyed myself despite the lack of a fish and the weather.  It was glorious to be out at Rutherford again; to have a fly in the water after a long dreary winter; and to make a start to the new season.  

Next week I'm back on the Dee on the Waterside and Ferrar beat of Glen Tanar.  Judging by the Fish Pal reports there are fish up there this year, whereas last year they seemed to stop at Ballogie, about 4 miles downstream from us.  But even with that hopeful news the odds remain very firmly against us, so my expectations are very low.  On the other hand its a very pretty piece of water in lovely surroundings and it's great to get away with friends for a couple of days.  It's not just about catching fish - a phrase that became all too familiar in 2014 - although in truth I'd love to catch a beautiful silver springer to get the year off to a great start.

Here's to a new season and tight lines to you all.

The Koma is Dead - Long Live the Rulla

Sadly it couldn't last forever.  After 15 seasons my dear old Vision Koma has died.  The fatal fault began to show itself 2 years ago: stripping off line caused the drag to slacken.  A major rebuild attempt with a complete set of drag components gave one season's life extension as the carrier of my Skagit line, but I've failed to work out the cause of the problem.  It's now the end of the road for this cut price workhorse.  At around £60 in 2000 it certainly doesn't owe me anything, and its rubbery handle remained an object of joy to its last day.  The Koma remains one of the best value cheap salmon reels around, which I recommend without hesitation for any beginner on a budget.

The need to replace the Koma prompted me to start my preparations for the coming season.  For whatever reason I've been very slow off the mark this year.  Normally I have my head in the Great Fishing Chest  at the top of the stairs within weeks of the shooting season ending, and my kit outloaded into its car boxes by early March.  Perhaps it's the after-effects of the disastrous 2014 campaign.  On the other hand, unlike last year, I have dug the mud, feathers, blood and unbelievable quantities of labrador hair out of the car.  She's a very pretty blonde and a good gun dog of 2 adult seasons, but for all the hair she sheds it's a miracle she's not bald.  I'll have to see whether I can reduce the temperature of the air conditioning in the back without freezing my wife in the front.

She's not a bad fishing dog either, if a little over enthusiastic on the point at an 8 pounder on the Findhorn in 2013.  A couple of firm words stopped her trying to retrieve and land the fish, as I doubt that she understands the idea of catch and release.

The Vision Rulla

Faced with the demise of the Koma, my first instinct was to look for a Lamson Konic or a Loop Multi, which are both excellent combinations of quality and value engineering (see my Reel Value post).   They're both better value than their up-market cousins, the Lamson Guru and Loop Evotec, which I reviewed in February 2014.  I also recommended the Loop Multi in my 2014 Christmas wish list when it was on offer at Angling Active at £129, but didn't buy one as I thought I could fix the Koma.   A friend recently recommended looking at the Rulla, which Vision introduced in 2014 as a likely successor to the larger reels in the long running GT series.  My experience with the Koma had given me confidence in Vision and some insights into their philosophy as a pure design house.  In common with many fishing companies today, they don't actually manufacture anything themselves.  By any standard Vision is an eccentric organisation, headed by a young man with a pony tail and a Harley; staffed by fishing fanatics; and Finnish to its core. Consequently my insights fall well short of understanding.  Nowhere is that eccentricity more apparent than in their range of reels, except perhaps the Cult reel seat and yellow wading boots (wait for the next post).  But if you look beyond the weird names and some zany ideas, you can detect a coherent strategy covering all the price points from bottom to middle, with a strong emphasis on value for money and competitive pricing.  In that respect the Rulla is pitched at £169, which is £30 below the Loop Multi and Lamson Remix, but it has a technical specification that is superior to both, with fully machined major parts throughout.  Amongst fully machined reels the Rulla is £70 cheaper than the Lamson Guru.  I'm still trying to work out how they've secured the price advantage, because I still haven't detected any major compromises of engineering, materials or finishing.  It's made in Korea, which, as I've pointed out many times, specialises in high quality rather than low cost, so it's not geography.

It bears a passing resemblance to the Guru with an open cage design and neat silver finish.  The quality of machining is excellent.  The bearings and drag appear smooth and progressive, but I'll reserve final judgement until it's handled some fish.  In this photo you can spot one of the clever design features, which spools most of the backing in a relatively narrow and deep channel below the main arbor, in the area that is unused space on most large arbor designs.  Once it's full to the shoulder the Rulla becomes a normal large arbor reel.  You can see here that the last section of backing covers the full width up to the bottom quarter of the outer ring of machined holes. This gives the Rulla a heroic capacity for its #8/10 rating: 200 metres of backing; 30 of Airflow Ridge Extreme runner; 13 of Rio Scandi 37g/10 wt shooting head; and ample frame clearance.  It's nice to find a reel with understated capacity when most fall short.

The finish at the back is similarly pleasing.  The large knurled drag knob falls easily to hand and is positive in operation.

The concave shaping towards the centre is not decoration but deliberate design to add rigidity whilst increasing line capacity.  You can see the 3 layers of backing, running line and shooting head more clearly in this view.

In common with its competitors the Rulla has a fully sealed drag assembly.  It's based on the common multi-plate compression design, but the pad area looks slightly larger than Loop's. Interestingly it uses 4 rounded engagement lugs on the drag body compared to the Loop's single larger rectangular lug. This makes spool replacement and location simpler and quicker than on the Loop.  This view of the back shows the Rulla's primary limitation: it just doesn't have the structural strength and rigidity of a full frame reel, which is essential if you are dealing with lots of very big fish in heavy water.  On the other hand this design should suffice for 99.999% of what one might ever encounter in the UK.

My one reservation with the Rulla was its advertised weight of 201 gm, which translates into  an improbable 7 ounces.  If this was correct I foresaw problems of balancing the 14 foot rod that it was intended to partner.  Once I'd filled it with line I popped the Rulla onto the kitchen scales with the Guru, and found to my relief that it was actually 12 grams heavier.  Just to be sure I headed out into the garden, put up the 13'8" 10 wt Cult and stripped the shooting head out through the rings to check the balance.  It was about as perfect as you could reasonably ask.  However, the clue to the reason for that ideal outcome is in this photo.  You will observe that the Cult's eccentric copper finish, single ring, uplocking, faux wood decorated monstrosity of a reel seat has been replaced by Chas Burns of York with good American common sense in the form of a downlocking ALPS.  I consider it a superb product (it's now on 2 of my rods), a triumph of function over form, right down to the two soft locking washers and the Teflon coated thread.  The reel seats on the Loop Cross S1 (uplocking, stiff thread) and the Hardy Marksman (downlocking but no washers to stop the nuts loosening) are not in the same league.  But to return to the point, fitting the ALPS moved the reel position 3"/7cm backwards, thereby allowing a reel of 13' compatible weight to balance a 14' rod.  Sometimes luck smiles on me, for I claim no deliberate intent in this happy outcome, which has transformed the Cult.  Previously the reel seat spoiled the whole show.  All that remains to achieve perfection is to sort out another Finnish Cult eccentricity - the absence of alignment dots.  Meanwhile I look forward to using the Cult - Rulla combination, which I'll report in my next post.

Looking Ahead

Once again a very kind Yorkshire friend has treated me to a guest day at the end of March at Rutherford on the Tweed, one of the nicest waters to fish.  The anticipation is mounting as I write.  The following week I shall be back for the spring session on the Dee at Waterside and Ferrar, another very picturesque beat.  Fishpal tells me that this year the salmon have reached that level, whereas in 2014 they stopped at Ballogie, so I am a bit more optimistic.

In between those activities I'll endeavour to put up another post to report on the Rulla's performance and anything else that comes to mind.  For those already on the water and those who start on 1st April, tight lines: here's hoping for a silver fish.