Another Day, Another Night

I walk to the river. I felt uncomfortable walking home last night in my waders. Not just because I felt self conscious but because I did not like the damage I might have been doing to my studs on my boots. I changed into my waders at the river, slipping my sandshoes into my haversack , if I am going to make a habit of this I have got to get myself a simpler bag. I had not planned on going fishing today but seeing as how I had such a good night last night and I wouldn’t have been doing anything anyway I thought why not?

It was raining today and I sensed something different, the river was not alive with rising trout like last night, I fished up my starting pool only hooking small trout. I worked my way upstream past two guys bait fishing with a boy- they were casting worms to rising trout – we exchanged pleasantries and I moved on. There were some yellow mays on the water but the trout did not seem interested.

I got to a nice, deepish glide, no trout rising.

I thought to myself what should I do? – I decided on a dry and dropper, I cast twice and caught a nice trout.

I cast another couple of times and caught another nice trout this time in the belly – because it was foul hooked I thought it was bigger. I chuckled to myself as I give one of my fishing buddies such a ribbing for using this technique but it really does work when there are no trout moving. I cast and this time I hook a tree, I manage to pull the fly out but lose the nymph. “Ah – a penance” I think, for using a dropper, I smile again. I tie on another dropper and this time after a few minutes it too is in a tree – this time I lose the dry fly. “Ok” I think” “I get the message” I continue up the pool but do not connect with anymore fish. It starts to rain, everything has stopped. I decide not to carry on but to walk back down the river. A women is watching her Labrador splash around the pool I started in so I walkdown to the Petrol Pool, so called as when you are wading there is a smell of petrol that waves over you every now and then, I am not sure where it comes from. Classic Kelvin!

A man comes straight for me, stocky with hard eyes. I am worried initially, you can meet some strange people down this neck of the woods, however it turns out he is a regular Kelvinator.

– you see mate, I have fished this fuckin river for years, I was down here the other day and caught a trout, a pound and a half, caught it on a mepp, killed it , lovely and pink inside, tasted real nice.

I said I had only ever killed one trout from the Kelvin and it tasted oily so that was good news they must be improving. He recognised me from last year and we got to talking about people killing Salmon without a permit.

-there’s this guy down near Glasgow, fishes the river all the time, catches fuckin salmon all the time, as soon as he gets one he legs it home so that he doesn’t have to buy a permit.

I say the majority of people I meet don’t have permits either; this is why I don’t bother asking people anymore, what’s the point if no one in the club seems interested. I told him I thought some signs might be a good idea, he laughed.

-some signs and some people to enforce the fucking rules!!!.

He looked me straight in the face as he said this. By heck, I thought, if this chap enforced the rules it would make me buy a permit. That’s what the Kelvin needs, some hard as nails bailiffs.

I excused myself as I was watching some rising trout. It was colder now and was almost dusk, possibly the time when you are unsure whether you should be wearing Polaroid’s or not.

He hung around watching as I caught some tiny trout, smiling in obvious delight watching someone fish. He was making me nervous, like anyone does when they watch me fish. I had difficulty unhooking one of the trout, please don’t let this be a fish that dies, not in front of someone watching me – I am trying to portray myself as some kind of expert here, not sure at what, but some kind anyway. I smile as the hook finally comes free.

I concentrated working my way up the pool, it took me ten minutes. He was still watching, and had moved up past some bushes to watch me.

I concentrated on some fast pocket water, what the heck I thought, lets have another bash at a dry and dropper, and the man watched me tie it on. I fished for another few minutes and then lifted into a trout- a nice trout. I thought it may be foul hooked. Even though the fish was in fast water it held its own and gave a jump clear out the water – it was not foul hooked and was a big trout to be had on a fly for the Kelvin. I wrestled it to some slow water and brought it to hand, a quick photo….

I looked up but the man was gone.