Sadly, I had to attend a funeral as my first act of business for the day. The ceremony took me up to lunchtime by which time the drive back to my office seemed a chore just to eat some food as I would be just driving back to the area I was in to visit clients anyway.
So I had a 45min lunchtime that I took next to a burn that runs past some high rise flats in the Clydebank area.
It just so happened I had my rod in the boot and after a brief thought about whether I really needed to eat I strung that bad boy up and armed only with a pair of forceps and a fly box I had some exploratory casts – we are talking about really minimal fishing here so minimal that all my gear fitted in a suit trouser pocket.
Within two casts I had a lovely wee trout on the bank. I knew there were trout in this burn as I have heard of them as well as gazed at them anytime I have been passing – what I have never actually done is make that leap to getting a rod strung up and having a cast at them.
The water was higher than normal and was running with a tinge of color – it made the runs beefy and full and made long pools that gave these trout a lot of cover – pretty much every other cast I would watch a shape drift up from the depths to swallow my fly..
Of course, remember that I am decked out for work with a shirt and tie on at this point – next to me some golfers stopped for a chat and they all had a tale to tell about the trout in the burn – seemingly further up the river it gets better.
I walked another pool up and caught some more trout.
I wont bore you with a blow by blow account of every trout that I caught however if I were to give a total tally for the 45 min session i would say at least the high teens – so roughly a trout every couple of mins. There were some bigger trout mixed up in the haul as well.
These trout took a dry fly with sheer maniac abandon – they were not only fighting the hunger but each other for survival as well. I am sure I pricked some even bigger trout however I can never really be sure – I mean they seemed big as they rose from behind a boulder to intercept my fly however they were pricked – always remember that a trout in the water will seem smaller than the trout in your hand – it is all down to refraction or something..
I walked back to my car at the end of that wee session a happy man – everyone I met on the way back to the car smiled and chatted about the burn – I spoke to a couple of golfers, a council worker standing with his top off and for want of a better word a Ned* with his dog.
*Ned is a derogatory term applied in Scotland to hooligans, louts or petty criminals,[1][2] latterly with the stereotypical implication that they wear casual sports clothes.[3] Such usage in Glasgow dates back to the 1960s or earlier.
Thanks for the Nedsplanation I had been wondering ….