So after a week of painting and trying to get new carbon brushes for my washing machine I knew I was earning some serious brownie points. After actually fitting the carbon brushes and getting a start on the huge washing pile AND cutting the grass on Saturday morning a trip to the river was on the cards. With baby 3 due any day now this was serious so I had to make a short and sharp session – I decided that a Saturday down on the Kelvin would quite possible be a day for the bams (I would end up gabbing with them all) so I headed to my highland river instead.
After a walk to the first pool I realised that a potential headache was the fact that I had left all my flies back at the car. Also a rather large trout was boiling on the surface on the other side of the river. Never fear, I had my emergency stash in my back pocket of the waistcoat – a mishmash of a a few dozen or so flies that I was sent by a reader a while ago as my fly tying took a dip due to kids. I spooked the fish of course however as I worked my way up the pool a trout took the nymph and pulled hard, It must have pulled too hard as with a quick jerk the trout was gone. My dry fly was still intact however the nymph knot must have given way. I cursed my laziness as I had quickly just tied the nymph with it’s trailing leaver on to my dry from my waistcoat where I had put it after my previous trip to the Kelvin. This meant that I did not have any more nymphs, instead I trimmed down a dry until it looked “nymphy” and rubbed it in the mud a bit so it would do the job just fine.
I fished on however did not get another take. While walking back to the bank their was a big splash just underneath a bush, I thought it might have been a big trout. I thought this as when I was wading slowly up the river i was peering into the crystal clear water scanning for trout. Their was lots of wee black bits of weeds on the river bed and I noticed one of them that was around a foot and a half long drift away from my path and sit behind me – that was a big trout but was thoroughly spooked I was sure. Anyway, it turned out to be an otter that was hiding under the bank, I moved towards it and it shot off giving me the death stare.
I walked down the river and spotted another angler across the other side of the river, she was a redhead with a spinning road. She was sitting down and I think fishing worms. I did not feel like chatting so just skulked past of the other side.
My next go at a trout was at a lovely deep pool where last year I got several trout. It rose on the far bank a couple of times and I covered it three times, it took with a boil and I struck, again the rod bent over as the brute of a trout bored down to the bottom of the pool and my fly pinged back to the top of the water. I have no idea why this time the fly came free however it proved to be my last trout that I had a go at. This was doubly annoying as the cast was made even more difficult by a rather viscous downstream wind that grabbed the tippet making the fly go everywhere but where I wanted it.
I walked back up to the car but I think the bright sunshine was not helping matters.
Trout Lost: 2
Dead Things: 1
Women Fishers: 1 (although not the nubile bikini clad variety)
Cows: Lots, in the distance mooing with sinister undertones.