It's a funny old game...

The car park was packed; well there were two other cars, which is pretty busy for Sutton Brook. We introduced ourselves and discussed the general state of the nation in the heady world of Blount Flyfishers. All the time I was wondering how we were going to fish without falling over each other. In the end we agreed that they would take a mile of river downstream from the footbridge and I would take the top three miles; very good of 'em I thought!

After the last outing I was interested to see if I could get stuck into some fish of quality. Conditions were very similar; it was warm and sunny with a light breeze. The water was clear, well as clear as it gets in this brook and a little lower than of late which can make the fish a bit spooky in my experience.

I tied on a size 14 Goddards Caddis and a size 20 Adams. They were just two flies I pulled from the fly patch to help me carry the rod to the water and I fully intended to swap them once I had worked out the best options according the hatches.

It turned out to be a funny old session with about a dozen fish coming to the net. Most of them were 12 inches or more and the best went 16" with a 8" girth, weighting about 1lbs 12oz - big for a brook that you can jump across in places...mind you there are also places where you would get very wet if you tried it; being 30ft wide and 6ft deep!

I never changed flies, even to put fresh ones on and caught equally well on the Adams as I did the Goddards. There was nowt on the water to indicate anything in particular hatching although one or two olives could be seen floating around amongst the Sedge, Gnats and the ever present, well it seems so this year anyhow, Mayfly; although nothing was eating any of them - no rising fish except to my poorly presented fur and feather!

A really nice session and one of my best fish this year left me scratching my head...it's a funny old game!

“You should have been here last week, sir!”

Denver is a lot like any other big US city when you first look at it. However, there is a difference; head a few miles West and you will trip yourself up, several times a day if you’re me, on some dodgy wading in what is probably the best river Trout fishing in Colorado; the South Platte.

I am huge John Gierach fan and his scribblings inspire my fishing antics. This is one of his local waters and I was well pleased to be getting a chance of catching a fish that the man himself may have once hooked and lost.

Thirty miles is not a long way to drive but when it’s on a winding mountain road with no lighting and averaging around 30 miles per hour it seemed like it is. After midnight and feeling very tired from travelling thousands of miles across North America, it was blinkin’ hard work! I was mighty relieved to see the cabin lights welcoming me to Trumball, a small cluster of log cabins that overlook the South Platte.

Danny’s directions had been spot on and it was a relief to drop the bags in the entrance to my temporary home for the next couple of days. The sound of the river roaring below me started butterflies fluttering somewhere inside, although that could have been a dodgy chicken pie from the service station.

The alarm was set for six o’clock but I was up by 5.30 to deposit the pie down the big white pipe and to brew a pot of coffee.

Now at this point I would like to say that this was a remote mountain cabin with no electricity and basic facilities but it wasn’t! It was spacious and rather luxurious; somewhere you would happily live, let alone spend a few days admiring the view – a rather lovely river and Scraggy Mountain in the distance.

I stood on the porch drinking the first coffee of the day watching the House Martins which had taken up residence over the front door. I never did like their chirpy tunes and once they started on the “Caravan of Love” I chased them away. A Buck in velvet with a Doe in tow wandered into the garden of the cabin next door to browse on the lawn. Regardless of how good the fishing was I was going to enjoy this short break!

It was just about a mile back down the road to the retail expanse known as Deckers; a coffee shop, a a general store and a fishing store. At 8am, as agreed, I shook hands with Danny Brennan, the owner of Deckers fishing outlet and general all-round good egg. He informed me I would be guided by Jessie, a young but experienced guide and general all-round nut case! We shook hands.

There was some discussion about flows. It was down to less than 400cfps, which sounded high to me having tried to wade the Vaal in South Africa at 500cfps. However, Jessie said “You should have been here last week, it was over 800! You’ve timed your visit perfectly” – now that’s not something you hear every day...

Setting up in one of the many free parking areas along the South Platte, Jessie informed me that he’d screwed up on the wading boots front and had a size 11 and a size 13, with the size 11 being too small; after this he was named as a Cherokee Indian – Chief Little One Boot (LOB). He returned from the shop with matching boots and we set off for ‘Mad Dog’ run. We fished down past ‘Bernie’s Rock’ to ‘FBI Johns’. We caught fish too, lots of ‘em; Browns, Rainbows, Cutthroat and the Cutbow hybrids. The fish were all strong, wild and very, very beautiful – I was very happy.

We moved later in the morning, LOB led the way to the ‘Scraggy View’ car park and we fished a wide sweeping bend just in front of it. My guide was good, he knew just when to switch from nymphs to great big attractor dries, that looked like they could eat a trout, with droppers to double dry rigs. Every time we changed the rate of takes would return to normal and my conversion rate would follow; about a 4,000,000 to 1......seriously I was catching a lot of fish compared to all those around us.

Lunch was served at Danny’s house on the veranda, overlooking the river. It was a fine burger, grilled to perfection and served with a potato salad. LOB and I talked about the fire. It was the Missionary Ridge fire of 2003 and it was the anniversary. LOB explained that some mad-mare of a woman had started it intentionally to try and secure a position with the local fire department. It took a week to put out and had changed the landscape for miles around as well as effecting a change in the rivers. Fishing had gone downhill after that.

The good news was it was returning to normal now, the river is full of fish again but there have been some changes. Caddis hatches are different and there are some fine Green Drake in the river now, hardly ever seen before the fire. The Blue-wings, Trico’s and Caddis are still providing the fish with an excellent diet. Everything I had read about the area recently suggested it was hard fishing, with one or two fish being the norm. Well after the arm aching morning I had just experienced there are lots of hungry fish in that river waiting to be caught – you just need the right flies.

We fished the afternoon out stalking Browns and ‘Bow’s and Cutt’s using dry flies and we caught plenty. Not as big as the fish from the morning session but just as much fun on short line double dries. We shook hands at around 4pm and I went off to fish on my own. I caught a few more and returned to the cabin for a well earned beer.

The next day I was on my own. I fished a few of the known pools that we had fished the previous day and a few I had not. I caught, not as well but was well pleased with the result. After a shower I headed for the airport but not before popping in to see Danny and thank him for a great couple of days.

As I drove out of the Platte valley I came across an area still ravaged by the scars of the fire and it bought home to me just how devastating it must have been. However, as with so many things, time heals and as far as I can tell there is no lasting a scar on the South Platte and I look forward to a return visit.

If you are thinking of a bit of fishing in this area I can recommend the service of Danny Brennan and his team of excellent guides at http://www.southplatteoutfitters.com/



If you can only secure one of them ask for Jessie...after all he may only have one boot that fits but if John Gierach recommends him (Still Life with Brook Trout) he can’t be that bad, can he?

One thing I can suggest is get a guide. One thing I am sure of - I’m glad I wasn’t there last week.....

Struggling with your flies?

There's nothing worse! Fish are rising and whatever you put over them dead drifts past with only a cursory glance. You catch the odd fish, usually small but there is little consistency. At times like this I often feel like putting it down to a bad job. The last outing to Blount was like that.

Conditions were good, a light, warm breeze and plenty of stuff on the wing. There were still a few 'Mays' about but the fish didn't seem too bothered. I guess after a twice daily, three week diet of double big Macs with extra fries and diet coke, you probably want to pick at some fruit for a while. What is it about diet coke with a 2000 calorie meal? It's a bit like having salad on your kebab after downing 10 pints!

At times like these I tend to lean towards my 'banker' fly selection; Adams, Deer Hair Caddis, No-colour Klinkhamer or PT Spinner.

We caught a few, fish to about ten or 12 inches but we could not really get into them. The usual "dead cert" pools let us down and we were in the pub for 9pm.

Being sociable and showing good etiquette

Fishing alone is great, you can focus on the job in hand and you will have the run of the river. Fishing with friends is fun too and it’s nice to be a little sociable every now and again. If fishing with friends, or your on a busy water, you need to follow good etiquette.

With a regular fishing partner this is all quite natural. It starts before you leave the house, like who drives; taking it in turn without really discussing it. Perhaps, if a meal is involved, usually on longer sessions, then KG will bring his pork based products one time and I will make a butties another. Often a treat will be slipped into the food bag, like a nice cold can of Stella! Sometimes we like to share a ‘proper’ meal like Dynamite Stag Chilli and Rice....then text each other the next day comparing bowel movements!

When selecting how to fish a beat a natural system forms, in our case its short sticks. If we divide the beat into two then the one who draws the short stick gets the longest walk to start. On some waters, like the upper Dove we alternate pools between the stone weirs. This is a lot more sociable and we will stop for a brew on a regular basis. A word of caution; if you have been drinking Stella avoid wading and dont stick your finger in the top of a lit Kelly Kettle!

We always fish up stream; this is good etiquette and should be followed by all river anglers. It is a sensible approach to stalking Trout but also saves on any confusion.

A good example from this recent outing was some numpty who decided it was OK to work his way down stream. The guy had little water craft and no manners. The inevitable happened and a pool that I was working up, nice and steady, ended up getting spoilt because he just jumped in at the top, scaring any decent fish for 50 yards downstream – I can’t stand rude people! If you fish rivers do everyone a favour; start at the down stream end and work your way UP RIVER!

All in a spin

I don’t like crowds when I'm fishing, I don't like crowds much at all come to think of it. I like having the river to myself, don’t we all? There are some waters where this is hard to achieve and some waters where its damm near impossible. If you can't do owt about it then, I guess, you learn to tolerate it or fish somewhere else.

Wolfscotedale on the Dove is water a bit like that. Only a couple of miles from Hartington, a very popular base for walkers, there are times when you think the procession of blue and red anoraks will never cease.

I used to fish Dovedale on the Leek and District ticket and that was very similar. In fact I read a report recently that said this was the second most visited spot in a national park next to Mount Fuji. It certainly felt like that at times but I learnt a few valuable lessons which apply at Wolfscotedale and probably many other stretches of river popular with the general public or, as I like to refer to them when I have rod in hand, noisy scumbags! Those lessons were, in no particular order but I will give them one anyway...

Firstly, that the fish actually get used to scumbags walking next to the river, they will carry on feeding but they tend to be a little more cautious of anything over or on the river.

Secondly, the fish will adapt to the scumbag hatch/fly hatch cycle and make the most of the early morning and late evening but that they become ultra cautious of bankside activity at these times.

Thirdly, scumbags don’t rise until 9am and are not seen making noise and merriment before 10am. They need long, big, hearty meals before a long sleep and are at the dinner table by 7pm and so desert the riverside by 6pm.

Finally, Scumbag hatching cycles increase at the weekend - avoid at all costs!

I arrived at Wolfscotedale at 6.30pm to find one car in the car park. He'd been fishing since 3.30 so it was a good guess that he would not be fishing late. This was a good sign, not many of the Derby County AC anglers’ fish the spinner fall even though it can be very good fishing.

There was little activity on the river and no activity on the footpath. Nothing really happened until about 9pm when the first fish started that classic rising pattern of trout feeding on spinners; a porpoys..poirpose..porposie..dolphin like rise where the head comes out first slowly rolling along the back until the dorsal fin shows. I like this kind of rise, you get a good feel for the size of fish.

Although I had been at the river two hours already the Pheasant Tail tied spinner pattern was already in the butt ring.

Five lovely fish between 12 and 15" graced the net in about an hour of wonderful silence!

A case of mistaken identity...

"I know where you live!", that's what I was saying to myself as I drove towards Blount. No, I have not started to collect debts for big Vern and I have not taken up a post with the Royal Mail. I was just psyching myself up for stalking a big fish.

It was a fish I had seen a few weeks ago and unless it has already been served with a squeeze of lemon then it should still be there, having found itself one of those lies that is near impossible to present a fly to without snagging a tree/hooking the rushes/fly dragging like a skating sedge on speed etc.

I arrived to find the air alive with Mayfly, in fact the car was covered in them before I could get my wading boots on. My fishing time was limited to the cooking period of a pair of Mediterranean breasts.., with new potatoes and my seasonal favourite, asparagus.

As I walked down river the dancing May's filled the sky, the grass and even the fishing hut looked like it had a living skin. The spiders would be having a right hearty feast for the next few days but they would need it to repair their webs, damaged by volume.

The leviathan's lair was quiet. There were few flies on the water and no sign of rising fish. I would sneak into position and wait for him to show...not too long mind, I like my breasts soft and moist, don’t we all?

After maybe fifteen minutes a fish snatched at a passing fly. It was not the monster Trout but it meant that he would soon be out to play. Another five minutes passed and now there were three or four fish under the willow, all snatching at the Mayfly feast. Then, moving a large wake of water he came to the surface of his dark lair, to engulf his starter.

It was time. I got into the river and crawled on all fours, rod in teeth, to the spot where I knew I could present the fly. Although only shallow, I needed to stay low and the water was dangerously close to the top of my chesties as I knelt against the rushes.

He was now rising steadily.

I prepared the shooting line, I prepared to cast....the fly landing just at the top of the eddy, enough slack to hold it still whilst the current ate up the free line, "SLOSH!!", he struck, so did I

....a blinking Chub!!!!

Its the 1st of June and we all know what that means

Whey hey! Its June at last, Epemerella Danica, the Green Drake Mayfly, that time of year when I spend a lot of time watching fish feed, watching flies mate but not actually do a lot of fishing.

Why? Well I don’t find fish particularly hard to catch when they are gorging themselves on the old 'Danica' so I prefer to spend my time stalking bigger fish, fish that normally might not show or be seen.

Last year’s best fish came to a ‘May’; hopefully this year’s will be even bigger!!

What is it about Salmon?

You would think spending a week waving 15ft of graphite and a #10 line about with little to show for it, apart from sore shoulders, cracked skin on the fingers from line burn and an empty wallet, should be enough to put any sane person off?

It was a great weeks Salmon fishing, despite the lack of Salmon! They were in the river but we seemed to be about 10 miles behind them all week.

The first few days we fished Ardoe on the Dee in the morning and the South Esk for Sea Trout in the evening. As with so many Salmon trips, like so many anglers before us, the weather proved our downfall. It had rained very hard the Friday and Saturday before we got there. So we used the first three days as casting practice.
Fish that had been sitting in the Estuary all piled into the river at the same time and used a rising Dee as an opportunity to get as close to their spawning grounds as possible. They swan like fish possessed all the way to the middle and middle-upper beats, they were caught on the Monday and Tuesday from Lower Blackhall to Cairnton. We were about 20 miles too far east.

Mid-week and we switched to our second Dee booking, Lower Blackhall. Overnight rain on Tuesday scuppered us again and as we arrived on the Thursday to see the last of the Salmon swimming under the Banchory bridge and heading for tea with the Queen at Balmoral!

Soon the aches and pains from constant Spey casting were the main topic of conversation and AT's bad shoulder and my sore hands were the focus of our attention. Even the capture of a silver tourist was not enough to fire the hope that we were about to start catching Salmon.

The afternoon rain storms continued for the rest of the week and there was little prospect of a fish. We were neither seeing Salmon in the river nor were there fish being reported from the lower beats to give us hope that something could be heading our way.

However, no sooner were the rods loaded into the car on the Saturday evening than we were planning a September trip and the hunger for a Salmon was all consuming, again, until next time!

You ain't seen me, right?

The bank side cover does not really start growing around here until early to mid May. Keeping yourself hidden from those over-wintered or wild fish can be very challenging through March and April. So we have to ensure, more so than during the summer, that we wear the right clothes and use a higher degree of stealth. Two tips for not being spotted; make sure your head is below the cover behind you; wear dull, dark colours.

A recent trip to Sutton Brook was a good example. Both my fishing buddy and I were wearing camouflaged tops and spent most of the afternoon on our knees trying to avoid our silhouettes falling on the water. It was the only way we could get to see rising fish.

Although RE does not do a lot of river Trout fishing a sound coarse fishing background means he has excellent water craft. Fly selection was critical on this outing and the fish soon switched from sedge to olives and then to gnats. Although RE is a good fly tier his preferred method for filling the fly box is blatant pilfering and very soon some of my double badger and Klinks were re-homed!

It was good to see that the fish are doing well in Sutton Brook. One positive sign on this outing was a couple of small wild fish, much smaller than the stocked fish.