I'm on TV! Well kind of...

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Step aside Robson Green, watch out Jeremy Wade, because I am on TV! Well not quite, let me explain:

Those of you that read these blogs will know that I am a keen supporter of the Westcountry Rivers Trust and am proud to be an Angling Ambassador for them. A key part of my role as an ambassador is to encourage greater use of the many miles of wild trout fishing that is available through their passport scheme.

So how to encourage people to use the passport scheme? There are a group of anglers out there who are unfamiliar with fishing streams for wild brown trout who could benefit from being guided through the basics, from where to park, to where to cast. The idea for i-ghillie was born. A virtual ghillie showing you how to tackle your beat, what flies you need and how to access the best fishing spots.

The plan is to produce i-ghillies for around 10 angling passport or booking office beats using a number of local guides and instructors. So back in June I spent a day on one of my favourite beats, Castle Hill on the river Bray, fishing with a film crew attached. A tough fishing day with high winds and rain followed by bright sun and sometimes rain and sun together on a painfully low river. It was interesting work and alot of fun.

To learn more about i-Ghillie and to view my footage from Castle Hill click Here

Look out for more I-ghillie films coming soon.

Derrick

Catching it, cooking it and eating it.

www.adventureflyfishinguk.co.uk

Hi All,
I have managed to escape to the Welsh Mountains for a few days. I try and get up there every year, generally on my own or with Loops the spaniel, this time however we were able to synchronise diaries to such an extent that my better half - Debs was able to come along. Now, those of you that read these blogs know that I like to travel deep in to the areas I explore, carrying everything I need with me, limiting the creature comforts I can pack. That doesn't really do it for Debs:

Adventure Fly Fishing UK does Glamping! Note the Scooby doo pillow in the tent...

It is fair to say that Debs is at most an 'occasional angler' but she holds dear very similar values to me - fishing in beautiful, natural environments and respect for the quarry. And so I am able to occasionally tempt her to come fishing with me with the promise of a great location and a fishy meal at the end of it. 

Fantastic location sorted, now where are the fish?

The fishing was slow, a bright day with a strong gusty wind, didn't help but I enticed plenty of splashes, swirls and tweaks and perhaps half a dozen small brownies to dries and then pulled wet flies. Debs plied her flies unmolested by such things for much of the day. Pressure mounted as we headed towards the close of the day with the prospect of nothing to add to our camping rations. A reversion to 'shock and awe tactics' by Debs, the most ridiculous, large and fluffy creation to be found in the deepest recesses of my fly box (she had long since exhausted all of the options from her boxes) and of course - instant success:

The smile of somebody that is not going to go hungry tonight

This was swiftly followed by another fish and a better one.

This fish was 'crunchy' to the touch. I have felt this many times before where trout (it seems in my experience to be mainly lake brown trout) have been gorging on snails and when you hold the fish you feel and hear the shells rubbing together. On this occasion though it was tiny clams, not something I have seen before:

Making the decision to kill fish is something I don't take lightly, I feel that when I kill one I accept the responsibility to respect the fish by creating from it a special meal. By 'special' I don't necessarily mean cordon bleu or something intricate from the final of masterchef, I mean one that is savoured by friends and family. In this case with fish in top condition and as fresh as it is possible to be the recipe was simple and stunningly tasty:

Salt, pepper and olive oil. Can you guess which one I caught?

Adventure Fly Fishing UK in Print

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Hi All,
I have just uploaded the article that was published in this year's Wild Trout Trust Journal to my article page. Take a look here and let me know what you think! http://www.adventureflyfishinguk.co.uk/articles.php

Derrick

Going Back

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What is the purpose of an angling club?

For me there are perhaps two:

1. To encourage a greater uptake of the sport through group participation be that competition, fishing events or  taster days.

2. Where the fishing requires access to private waters, to increase buying power for fishing rights by grouping together a number of anglers.

Hence a club should be able to make fishing that would otherwise be too expensive for many anglers individually more accessible to the many (and I suppose helps increase uptake of the sport)

Occasionally a club gets this thing wrong in my opinion.

I went home recently, back to the town in Wales that I grew up in, my folks still live there and I went home to spend some time with them and also I took the opportunity to explore the river on which I grew up. I haven't cast a line on this river for probably 18 years. When I say I grew up on the river, I spent almost all of my waking hours away from school on the banks of this river, fished it, fell in it (many times), climbed trees, built dens and generally just existed on it. Isn't it funny how the sorts of things we did when we were kids would today have our parents frowned upon, descended upon by social services or generally lambasted by society? That's a subject for another day perhaps.

The little river in question is relatively nutrient poor, with a head of small wild brown trout and migrant sea trout (or sewin, as they are called on this river) and a few salmon. As a kid I fished it with my Dad, he had permission to fish from the farmer that owned a couple of fields adjacent to the river, or you could buy an annual permit from him for a few quid - 5 to 15 pounds say and you would fish with worm or spinner generally, I seldom saw anybody fly fish as I grew up. You could start to fish at the tidal reaches of the river and work your way miles upstream quite happily. And the river was fished particularly after a spate when there was a good chance of a sewin.

Now the fishing rights are owned by a fishing club. The club in question is based approximately 20miles away and in addition to this stretch has over 12 miles of salmon and sewin fishing on the famous West Wales rivers of the Towy and the Teifi. Most UK game anglers will have heard of these rivers and the membership and day ticket costs are extremely reasonable to access these rivers where each year sewin well in to double figures (and occasionally approaching 20lb) are caught. But to fish 1.5miles of my little river, located well away from these other rivers, it seems a bit at odds.

And for this little bit of river I feel this club has, in my opinion, got it wrong. By acquiring (it is a recent acquisition) this fishing, different in nature to the other fishing they hold, some distance from the rest of the fishing, there is a strong possibility that in the area of this little river they are failing in purpose one. The membership and day ticket price points are correct - if you intend to fish these famous rivers - but it is completely wrong if you purely intend to fish this little river.

It would be really interesting to know how many people fished it since it fell in to angling club control compared to when it was available through local arrangement. The day I visited it felt that it had been largely ignored for a while. Overgrown and litter strewn, my little river didn't look well. I know this club does some habitat improvement and conservation work, I wonder where 1.5 miles of this little river sits on their list of work priorities.

As a rule anglers care for their environment, less anglers can mean less care and also less pairs of eyes watching the water. I found a large segment of gill net, abandoned and tangled now, but evidence that in the absence of others poachers move in.

 A small piece of the gill net I found.

I fished for a few hours with my Dad, the fishing was slow but it was nice to work upstream, reminiscing about previous fish caught and lost, fishing friends and old times. I think what worries me the most about the whole thing is that Dad and I talked afterwards and wondered how, if we were both 30 years younger, he would have managed to fish the way he used to and how he could have given me the sort of introduction to the sport that set me on my way. That worries me...

The first for a long, long time. The highlight of a difficult day.

Perhaps I am boring, but...

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That's all I want is plain old boring normality, nothing exciting, spectacular and certainly not record breaking, just middle of the road, standard.

What am I talking about? The weather of course.

The last couple of years we seem to have lurched from one extraordinary weather event to the next, from record dry springs, to the wettest summer on record, to the coldest March and so on. Now I would like some normal stuff please, not overly warm, unseasonably cold, spectacularly wet or remarkably dry, nothing to bother the record books or to excite the statisticians - normal. If there is such a thing any more...

Talking of cold, here are a couple of photos sent to me by my mate in Iceland a couple of weeks ago, the spring creeping in to the Highlands:

See the bridge? There is a river under there, honest. I know because last year I caught fish underneath it.

This is a photo of a river I am set to explore this year just emerging from underneath the ice. We hope to find rising brown trout and possibly some char here in less than 3 months time. I hope it warms up a bit before I get there.

Hurry up...and wait.

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I mentioned that it had been a long closed season, I am not sure I have awaited the start of the season with so much eagerness as I have this one. And so it was with some disappointment that I opened the curtains on the 15th, the first day of our trout season in Devon to be faced with grey skies, high winds and heavy rain. Washout.

That didn't stop me having a bit of a wander about though and for a while the sun even came out.

The river was high and in spate, but nowhere near as high as it had been that winter. My dogs are sat at least 6 feet higher than the flooded river and you can see that the floodwater had been over the top of the wire fence.

It is approaching that time of year when if you are a drake mallard it pays to be looking at your best.

The last of the snowdrops, those that hadn't been flattened by the wind and the rain.

So good as always to be out and about on the river, but for fishing I will just have to wait...

Derrick

Warm and Tingly

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It has been a long, long closed season, it is fair to say I haven't enjoyed it much. Now that the new fishing season approaches I thought I would write a few words about what I have been up to.

Since my last correspondence I am pleased to report that I have become a Westcountry Angling Passport Ambassador, I am proud to be associated with the Westcountry Rivers Trust, a charity close to my heart and over the coming months I will be writing more, helping with some of their excellent habitat work and generally doing all I can to cajole everybody to use the Angling Passport scheme to access some super fishing and support this excellent cause.

A perfect example of the sort of good that can be done through this scheme is the new beat on the River Mole. The Garramarsh Farm Beat of the river Mole has entered the scheme this year. I know the beat well, largely underfished, the stretch had been allowed to become overgrown. To fish the stream in the summer was to fish in almost complete darkness, the stretch was completely overgrown, the river shrouded in a dense cloak of  sycamore and hazel, largely impermeable to light or anglers. With no light there was very few insects and without insects there would be very few feeding fish.

And so two weeks ago, with the season approaching, a Westcountry Rivers Trust contractor backed up by a volunteer working party descended on the beat, tooled up with power tools, hand saws and stacks of enthusiasm (not to mention tea and cake). And this is the best bit, everything we needed to do to improve access to the beat for visiting anglers served also to improve the habitat for fish and fauna - let me show you:  

 You can see how overgrown the beat is, obviously it is the end of the winter, give it a few weeks and you would not be able to see the river through the leaves. Without light this bit of the river will be largely barren of insects and their larvae. And so Gerald the contractor (and expert fisherman himself) fires up the chainsaw.

   Aided by the volunteer working party (here Dave Chapman the WRT Angling Development Manager) huge amounts of hazel is coppiced and the debris removed from the river.

Let there be light.

Removing trees serves to open up access to the river for visiting anglers and also lets light in to the river to encourage a more diverse population of flora and fauna and hopefully some lovely insects for the trout to feast on. Of course it is important not to get carried away, tempting though it is to trim every possible fly snagging hazard, shade is vital. Current scientific advice is that approximately 60% shading is perfect to protect the river water from becoming too warm and so restraint is important.

But it is not just about cutting trees out, here you see Gerald has selected some overhanging branches and instead of cutting them out he makes a cut part of the way through each limb, bends and secures the limbs along the river bank.

The idea is that these limbs will continue to grow in much the same way as a traditionally laid hedge does to produce limbs and leaves from these stems. The result would be perfect habitat for fish fry and insects, a great addition which will also serve to add to the productivity of the beat. As if this is not enough of an incentive to take every opportunity to add this kind of feature there is another benefit. This bankside growth will act as a buffer during spates, reducing the energy with which the water hits the banks and so reduces riverbank erosion. Less erosion = less silting of the gravels = more habitat available for fish to make their redds.

And so a days work, some good company with likeminded people, a new beat to fish and the warm, smug satisfaction that you have managed to do some good for the habitat we treasure. Happy days.

Derrick

Jet streams and fish dreams

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The dust settled slowly as the growl of the big 4x4 gradually faded into the distance to be replaced by...nothing, complete silence. This was the start of my latest fishing adventure and Steinar, the driver of the rapidly disappearing vehicle would be the last person I would see for nearly a week. I had eagerly anticipated this moment for many months and now that it was here it felt a little strange, excitement mixed with a little apprehension and a hint of 'what the hell am I doing here' scepticism.

'Here' was Iceland, a popular fishing holiday destination, but not this bit, not this way. At my feet lay approximately 35 kilos of kit, food, clothes, survival gear and fishing gear, for the next 9 days my home was to be the remote Highlands of Iceland and I was going to do it the hard way - no guides, no lodges, no creature comforts, just me, surviving and fishing. What definitely wasn't what I had expected, was the weather.  Iceland was in the grips of a drought, the exact opposite to what we had been seeing in the UK up to this point of the summer. apparently this was something to do with the Jet Stream which had been stuck to the south of where it should be giving us record rainfall and Iceland the blue skies and warm sunshine that I felt as I began my slow journey deeper into the Highlands and the first river destination. More about this jet stream thing later.    

Not really typical Icelandic weather, the glacier bathed in warm sunshine. 

The first few days passed in a flash as I quickly settled in to a routine, pitching somewhere in the middle of the river course and spending a day searching downstream of that point and a day upstream, before moving on to the next one. The rivers were roughly the same width as what I am used in Devon but what was interesting was how they changed in nature along their course. In the UK many rivers start in the mountains as fast, narrow, rocky streams and gradually become wider and slower as they wind their way to the estuary. Here it was the opposite the rivers were born in the high plateaus, relatively flat land, the waters are wide, slow and relatively featureless, the riverbanks soft and muddy. As the streams get towards the point were they meet the glacial river they fall off the plateau, steeper ground, faster water, with pools, pockets and glides. 

A typical lower stretch of highland river, pools, pockets and glides.

The fishing was good, the fish were superb. There was an abundance of fly life, buzzers and sedge in the main, but very few rising fish. Nevertheless dry flies worked well, very well, with fish upto 5 pounds or so coming to delicately sip klinkhammers and sedge imitations. And boy did they fight, I saw my backing knot rattle through the tip ring on a daily basis and frequently had to chase running fish up or downstream. As I ventured upstream away from the fast moving water the fishing became less inspiring, long reaches of slow moving shallow water with no sign of fish. Then out of nowhere I would discover a massive boulder, placed midstream by some massive forces years ago. Surrounding the boulder would be deep blue water where the stream has scoured away the riverbed, habitat the absolutely screamed 'FISH'. A streamer placed upstream, allowed to sink and worked quickly so that it enters this blue water produced many fish. Aggressive chases and arm wrenching takes all very visible in the clear water. And so I walked along the rivers looking for these features, racking up perhaps 8-10miles per day.

Jonesy attempts the one handed fish cuddle photograph

Chewed up streamer.

Here comes the rain.

 All the while the cloud gradually built, I was getting hit by frequent heavy showers, at least you 

could see them coming across the flat tundra. As I worked my way South I had to cross two glacial rivers, very different beasts to what I was used to. A milky blue coloured water, heavy with tiny rock particles from the mechanical grinding of the bedrock, these rivers move fast and strong. Luckily I had arranged a vehicle to cross these rivers, prior to that the only contact with the human race had been when I turned my phone on once a day to send updates home and suck in any text messages. Tom, the driver warned me of an impending storm. It turns out that two days after I left the UK so did the jet stream, heading straight for Iceland, take a look at what the BBC had to say about it all Here . 

Tom, my saviour across the glacial river and first human contact for days

Hope it doesn't get any deeper...

Now I am at 800m, in between two glaciers, with (as you can see) a storm in bound, finding somewhere out of the wind to pitch my tent is difficult when the area is billiard table flat. Up until now I had been pitching within the confines of the riverbed, right beside the river, to get the shelter but now with lots of rain forecast that may not be wise. For a while things got uncomfortable. After a rough night I made my way downstream, hoping to find some shelter where the gradient increased. It was here I met the Iceland Mountain Rescue volunteers that were out patrolling the track that runs through the middle of the Highlands warning anybody they found of worsening weather, they suggested perhaps an alternative accommodation for the approaching night.

Upper stretch of a highland river, shallow and slow. No chance of any shelter from the impending storm.

I didn't need asking twice. That night as I cowered in a remote Highland shelter the winds reached 60mph, the same rescue organisation that advised me to leave, rescued more than 20 people that night. And so my Iceland fishing adventure came to a premature end, I was just grateful that the storm hit two days from the end and not right at the start. So 6 days self sufficient in the highlands, fishing numerous rivers, catching great fish in an amazing environment, Iceland Adventure done.

So where next...? 

The one that got away.

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What fishing blog can be without a 'one that got away' story, here's mine from last week.

The river was fining down nicely, still quite high following the latest band of heavy summer rain, but the muddy spate river chocolate colour had drained away. I was fishing for summer peal, without success, I had fished the river down already with not even a sniff and I had dropped my landing net into the river whilst sliding / falling down a steep bank. So now I was heading home. But there is a pool on my way home which is often worth a look, I had hammered it at the start of the day, but with fish moving through the river on the spate I felt it could be worth another try.

I entered the river  at the head of the pool and fished down the small pool with a large black fly cast square across the stream and retrieved quickly, a favourite peal technique in these conditions. I was using my standard peal setup, a 9ft 6 weight with a sinking line with 8lb breaking strain leader. Towards the tail of the pool I thought I moved a fish, a flash of silver and a small swirl in the stream but felt nothing. I continued to work my way downstream to the end of the pool, nothing. Encouraged by the brief encounter with a fish I decided to back up the pool with a more conventionally fished, smaller fly. Third cast as I worked back upstream came the steady draw on the line that I instantly recognised as a salmon. Now I have taken salmon here before, not for a while and I certainly wasn't geared up for one today. I was stood up to my waist in fast water, surrounded by lots more fast water, connected to a strong salmon, with light gear and no net. However, despite my misgivings the opening fight sequence went remarkably well. The fish stayed deep and seemed content to head upstream slightly, so far so good. I cursed losing the net.

Upon reflection (and believe me, I have reflected upon this encounter extensively) those first few minutes were the only time in the whole episode where I actually felt any modicum of control, the only time where I felt I had the upper hand. At that point the fish turned around and within a nanosecond was 20 yards downstream of me and  into the fast water at the tail. He jumped ( I don't know if it was a 'he' but when I pleaded with it at various stages throughout the fight I referred to it in the masculine, eg - 'come on boy, please turn around') and I cursed losing my net. 

Those of you that follow this blog know that I am prone to falling in from time to time, today though I ran / waded / floated downstream at breakneck speed in pursuit of this fish without so much as a stumble. Applying massive pressure on the fish, recovering line as I headed downstream I managed to get somewhere near the fish again but we were now in the stream immediately above the next pool. The next pool down was a mass of white water, not a waterfall, but not far off, if he was to get in there it would be all over (in fact if I had got in there it would probably be all over too). With maximum pressure on the fish I edged my way upstream, coaxing / begging the fish to follow. I managed to get perhaps 10 - 15 yards upstream and just started to feel a little more positive about things when the fish jumped and for the first time I saw the fish. Not for the first time I cursed losing my landing net.

We battled up and down this fast moving water between the two pools for perhaps 10 minutes, I would edge the fish back towards the original pool only for the fish to change his mind and power ever closer to the white water below. I was going to have to up the ante somewhat. Big sidestrain, recovering line as I ran yet again towards the fish, spray and expletives flying everywhere, I quickly closed the gap to the fish. At this stage the fish was relatively calm (more than can be said for me), facing downstream planning its next daring attempt to hit the white water below. I took the opportunity to reduce the gap further. So the scene looked like this; me thigh deep in water stood side on to the current that was threatening to lift me off my feet. 2 yards in towards the bank sat this stunning, silver, fresh run salmon of something between 15 and 18lbs in weight, 2 yards beyond that, the riverbank. 15 yards downstream was the pandemonium of the head of the next pool. At this point I tried to tail the fish, I got fingers around the wrist of the tail before all hell broke loose and I found myself cursing the fact that I had lost my landing net.

Hell remained loose for a good few minutes as the fish clearly demonstrated its objection to being grabbed by cartwheeling across the river and close, very close to the white water below and generally roughing me up. It must have been close to another 10 minutes before I could get on to something approaching equal terms with the fish again. This time I was a little further upstream, I had hatched a plan. The farmer drives his tractor across the river in the shallows between the two pools, only when there is considerably less water in the river than on this day, but just where the tractor leaves the river there was a shallowly sloping sandy bay. It was small, perhaps 2 yards long and 1 deep, but I thought if I could steer the fish in to there I could either try and tail him again or just basically trap him in there with my body and just flop on to him. It took a few goes to steer him in there, he was clearly tiring, but still far from obedient. Suddenly he was in there, the tailing, trapping, grabbing and flopping moment was upon me almost before I was ready. It didn't go as well as I hoped, I got a hand on him, briefly. And he was gone. I haven't really worked out how or where he went, I don't know if he went between my legs or back the way he came in, I just know that he suddenly wasn't there anymore. 

And I cursed the fact I had lost my landing net.

Derrick

Events dear boy, events.

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Sometimes deciding where to fish within a fishery can be extremely difficult. When I guide on the coast or even occasionally on large stillwaters I am often asked how I decide where to start. It can be difficult, particularly when faced with large, relatively uniformed, expanses of water or miles upon miles of coastline.

When in these situations I always try to think about what constitutes as a fish attracting feature within that sort of fishery or for that species of fish. I am a firm believer that in order to be a consistently successful angler you must first have a detailed understanding of your quarry. We need to know how it feeds, how it rests and how it evades predators. Armed with this knowledge it is a simple matter of analysising what we can see on or above the water surface and interpreting what this may mean to our quarry. Identify the places where the fish want to hang out and (perhaps more importantly) where they want to feed and fish there. 

That is all well and good, but yesterday I was reminded of a discussion with a really good saltwater guide I fished with a couple of years back. We were chasing bass, without much luck as it turned out, but nevertheless what he said to me has steered much of my thinking in fishing ever since. We were recce-ing an area that we wanted to hit later on when it was dark, it was a massive expanse of rocky foreshore, with mile upon mile of what I would describe as textbook bass feeding territory. Gulleys, rockpools and any other bassy feature you could imagine. The problem here was not to identify the fish-attracting feature but to try and prioritise which feature would be more likely to attract the most fish. Not easy. 

So when I say 'its all about the features' my guide disagreed, when faced with this many potentially fantastic features it can serve to divide the fishes feeding efforts and subsequently our chances. He explained that it is all well and good identifying feeding areas, the key to fishing these areas is to identify the key events. ie to be at a prime feeding position at the prime feeding time or, as he put it - its all about the 'events'.

So in order to maximise our chances in addition to identifying the features we need to time our attack to coincide with an event. So an understanding of what constitutes an event is as important as what constitutes a feature. Now this is more difficult. Now we need to understand a great deal more than where our quarry likes to hang out, we need to understand what influences the prey species, this is relatively easy. But what about the effects on our prey of the onset of darkness, a temperature change, a drop in air pressure, or moonrise. Interestingly my guide put a huge importance on the arrival and departure of the moon as an event. So in essence, pick your feature and then plan your assault to be there when an event happens, to maximise the chance of sport. In if you can plan to arrive at a succession of features to coincide with a succession of events, then happy days.

Yesterday I spotted the onset of an event. From around mid morning it honked down, proper summer rain, massive drops that fall vertically, uninfluenced by the wind and hurt when they land on your head. I knew that there should be some decent fish around and by 1600 I was to found on my favourite spate river. Water levels were still a little low but already the colour of weak tea, a spate was coming I could see that and I hoped that the fish could too. I had a window of just two hours before branches and tree trunks started to drift past me indicating the arrival of the spate and the end of my fishing. But for those two hours I am happy top report that the river felt as alive as I can remember it.

Be in the right place for an 'event' and the rewards can be spectacular. 

    

   

The recipe for adventure

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Fly fishing is a truly international sport, what I mean by that is that it seems to me more and more fly fishers that I speak to are travelling far and wide to experience sport in all sorts of places. A scan through any fishing magazine will have photos of amazing scenery, or monster fish from various glamorous locations, there seems to be more opportunities for fishing adventures now than ever before. Note I say 'adventures' and not 'holidays', I believe that they are different.

 A holiday to me brings up thoughts of 5 star hotels, all inclusive dining and balconies overlooking the pool, similarly the term 'fishing holiday' summons thoughts of 5 star lodges, all inclusive meals and carefully mapped out fishing itineraries. Not that there is anything wrong with this, but for me an adventure is slightly different. The recipe for a fishing adventure is somewhat different. I am preparing to depart on an adventure and the ingredients look like this;

1. A different location.

An adventure involves going and discovering fishing, not knowing beforehand what you can expect.

2. Room to explore.

Linked to point 1, part of an adventure is the ability to travel and get a feel for the fishing over a wider area.

3. Flexible accommodation.

I don't mean a chef that can keep your evening meal warm whilst you enjoy the evening rise, I mean the ability to have dinner at 3am or to shelter from the worst of the weather when the worst of the weather arrives. For the majority of my adventures that means a tent.

4. Time to really immerse yourself in the fishing.

In this age time is often the most difficult ingredient to source. Ideally in an adventure I really like to feel I have 'done' the fishing in that location.

5. An element of ...well, adventure.

I struggled with this one a bit, I thought 'danger' or 'survival' or even just plain old 'unusual' but it doesn't have to be any of them. I guess what I mean is an element of effort - be that travelling to the fishing location, living in difficult conditions, enduring bad weather or whatever.

Let me demonstrate by telling you about my plans:

1. Location; next month I travel to Iceland to fish for wild trout, I know that in itself is not very unusual, Iceland is fast becoming a very popular fishing destination, with well publicised trout fishing. But I am not fishing these places, instead I am heading up in to the Highlands - the bits up near the glaciers. The plan is to fish the tributaries of some of these famous waters, or more accurately their tributaries - and the small streams that run in to those tributaries. Waters, as far as I can tell that don't get fished - or even visited.

2. Room to explore; Yep, loads of it, more than I can actually fish in the time I have available, which is fine because I suspect some of it won't have any fish in it so I can just walk passed that bit.

3. Flexible accommodation; yes of course, the tent, a really sturdy one and I will be carrying all of the food I require for the trip with me, which presents one or two problems...

4. Time; Oh yes, as you can see I have not exactly splashed out on fancy living here so cost isn't the limiting issue to this one, so 10 days which is just about as much food as I can carry.

5. The adventure element; I think so. I have identified a Country with great fishing but relatively harsh environment and I have chosen the harshest bit of that harsh environment to explore solo and unsupported for 10 days. My fishing itinerary involves a drop off point and a pick up point with a date and time, in between those points lie kilometers of  unexplored rivers and streams.

To me, those are the ingredients of a fine fishing adventure, I don't know if I will find fine fishing, but I think the adventure bit is pretty much guaranteed.

Now you have probably identified a few issues that need to be overcome, that is what I am working on at the moment, here's a few I am mulling over currently:

Navigation - this area is not exactly frequently visited so the best maps I can find aren't exactly modern or hugely detailed. I will be carrying GPS, I have no idea if it will receive the satellite signal required to be any good, so I plan for the old fashioned method. Similarly I have no idea if I will have a phone signal so I am looking at alternative ways to raising the alarm should it all get messy. 

Food - 10 days worth of sufficient calories to compensate for a relatively high level of physical exertion. It will come down to the old favourites again - pasta, porridge, peanuts supplemented with some dried meat that I will carry for extra taste and fat content and I may kill the odd fish (although I won't plan for that). It could all get a little boring after the first 6 days or so.

The Weather - Apparently it could get a bit nasty up there, even in July, so I am going to need a full range technical clothing or a really good cagoule.

Stuff - Tent, sleeping bag, cooking equipment, food, clothing, fishing gear, waders, camera and everything else needs to be firstly, fitted in to a weight limit that the airline isn't going to have to call on some extra fairy dust to fly over to Iceland and secondly, has to fit in (or on) a rucksack that I can carry comfortably, a long way.

I will let you know how the plans develop.

In the meantime I am doing some fishing.

Derrick

  

Great Things

www.adventureflyfishinguk.co.uk

No fisherman worth his or her salt is unaccustomed to a bit of adverse weather, that doesn't mean we don't like the odd drop of the good stuff. Just 3 weeks ago I was forced to cancel a planned adventure, flooding, damaging winds and general horribleness took the outlook for 4 days in the mountains from uncomfortable to outright dangerous. And now as I headed up the M5 it seemed my fortunes had changed and I was finally in for some of that good stuff. Ahead of  me lay 4 days of adventure - trekking, camping and generally existing in the Rhinog mountains with a plan to explore some of the lakes and streams  that  I come across along the way.

The Rhinog mountains are a favourite play area of mine, beautiful, rugged and without anywhere near the number of visitors the Snowdonia range seems to attract. It is perfectly possible to disappear into these hills for days and not see a soul and that was exactly what I planned. As I abandoned the car and prepared for the climb into the hills the thermometer read 29 celsius, the sun beat down relentlessly, tempered only by a near gale force easterly wind. Is it possible to have too much of this good stuff?

I think it might have been better when it was blowing a gale.

Those of you that fish for brown trout will realise that these were perhaps far from ideal conditions for filling your boots, or any other receptacle for that matter, with fish. Those of you that spend time in the mountains will realise that these conditions were far from ideal for moving about comfortably. Those of you that do both of these things will realise that things were fairly tough. The great thing about these trips for me is that all of the normal stresses and worries of daily life quickly evaporate as your attentions most turn to more basic needs, in this case water and sunscreen.

Down time.

The other great thing about fishing in these mountains is the variety. The variety of fishing opportunities, tiny streams narrow enough to step across, fast flowing  with unexpected waterfalls and shady plunge pools which leave you in a dilemma (particularly in weather such as this) do I cast a line there or just dive on in? Milly, my companion on most adventures such as this, had no such dilemma and flung herself in to any water she came across on her travels. Some of the lakes, or Llyns, are shallow, clear and rich with good insect  life and free rising fish, despite the conditions, others are deep and mysterious with peat stained waters and very little sign of life. 

Meet Milly A.K.A 'Loops' which is nothing to do with flycasting but her general direction of travel.

The trout too vary enormously from dark, almost black backed sleek fish to the fat, buttery yellow fish that I always associated with the rich chalkstreams of the south. I found free  rising, enthusiastic fish in one lake and dour, stubbornness in the lake next door, separate by just hundreds of yards.

The best thing of all about simply existing in places such as this is the pure, unaltered, untamed beauty. Fish  or no fish, rain or shine I cannot help but feel somehow cleansed from my time there.