Considering I had tied up all those comparaduns it would have been plain rude not to actually use them. I got in the roasting hot car mid afternoon and headed up the motorway towards my shit pipe river. I knew that the part I wanted to fish was in a deep shaded valley so was not too concerned about the 21 degree heat and the blazing sunshine and it turned out that I was correct in my assumption.
It was proper combat fishing on an overgrown river which due to its urban proximity was full of the usual nonsense – burnt out cars and metal railings.
I had to park on a dual carriageway and scramble my way down past a graffiti laden bridge – evidence of fires and litter everywhere. Thankfully the banks were overgrown in most places so the trout have been mostly unmolested.
In the first pool I came to I had two trout to the dry and they went bonkers jumping all over the pool and putting a bend in my 4 weight. Some of the pools and riffles were extremely difficult to fish due to the trees and bushes however thankfully I did not lose any flies to them.
Consequently roll casting was the order of the day and if my fly was not pounced upon after several runs down I would move on to the next riffle. Huge olives were coming off consistently and I was very impressed at the stamp of trout and how good condition they were in.
I found myself at a deeper pool and missed a trout, 2nd cast and a lunker pulled the rod over taking me for a tour of the pool before jumping several times – stuff that a dry fly fishers dreams are made of.
Next pool – again another lunker and when returned shot up the bank on to dry land and then looked confused as it had went in the wrong direction. I had to spend a bit of time coaxing it back to normality however it drifted out my hands thankfully to sulk at the bottom of the pool.
I started to see some signs of human life, I smelled a BBQ and I managed to freak a couple of kids out who were playing on one of the pipes – they ran across it and away when they saw me coming. Next to some deep looking pools there was evidence of a fire with some cigarette papers strewn around and even though this looked like a lunker holding area I caught nothing.
I thought about the scramble back to the car and decided to call it quits. I had only been fishing for a couple of hours, however the walk back was not going to be easy – what would really help here is fishing with someone and using two cars – one could be parked upstream and then it would be a case of taking turns in the pools and then driving back down using the 2nd car.
I found some overgrown paths and got back to the car.
Bolting back down the motorway I managed to take the Maryhill exit and somehow found myself at a parking spot for the Kelvin – I had not dismantled my rod so was fishing in a few minutes. Out of the first run I had nothing on the nymph however I could see the odd rise in the flat water above me – I wasn’t holding out much hope as these fish are notoriously spooky unless it is proper dusk and at 7pm it was still far too bright.
I even blanked at the long riffle at the head of the pool and wished I could stay until dusk however the Kelvin trout were just not having it at this spot today. They even ignored my nymph. I was joined for a while by a young fox which bolted into its hole in the bank and then followed me up the river from hole to hole, I would occasionally turn round to see it watching me quizzically.
I finally caught a micro trout on the dry fly so at least I didn’t blank – I stuck a nymph on again and fished some deeper water where I was sure a lunker lay, however even though I managed to get some good drifts whilst casting over my left shoulder nothing came of it.
All in all an awesome afternoon and even though my arm is now throbbing with some jaggy nettle stings I drove up the road a happy fisher.
See you in my fishy dreams.