SECOND TIME ROUND

After a 20-year absence, MIKE DUXBURY returned to fly-fishing last season. In this the first of a new month-by-month series, he decribes the key factors that helped to make his first season back in the sport exceed his expectations

It was March 28, 2003 and I found myself sitting on the bank, drinking in the glorious countryside that wraps itself around the Eyebrook Reservoir. A joyous feeling welled up inside me, it was so good to be back. I had not been fly-fishing for trout since the late 1970's. As a youth, I had a passion for angling. However, for one reason and another I had drifted away from this absorbing pastime. Now that I was feeling the enthusiasm surging through me once more, I was eager to find out how much things had changed during my absence.

In order to make up for the loss of 20 years of experience my approach was to read as much of the most up to date literature on the subject that I could get my hands on, reasoning that I should thus be in a position to draw on the collective fishing and fly tying experience of numerous experts. I scoured many back issues of FF&FT, as well as absorbing the wise insights of Arthur Cove.

Now, after months of anticipation, the day had finally arrived when I could attempt to translate theory into practice. I reasoned that I would improve my chances of success by concentrating my efforts on just one venue. So I purchased a season ticket for the Eyebrook, as this had been the water on which I had cut my fly-fishing teeth and of which I had many fond memories. Walking to the waterside I recalled those formative years in which I had taught myself how to double-haul by studying the diagrams on the the back of a fly line packet (nowadays there is an extensive list of qualified instructors listed in the classified pages - how I wish I could have had just one lesson with one of them!), and how I had just started to discover that trout would not only succumb to a stripped black, white or orange lure but could also be tempted on a Pheasant Tail Nymph and slow figure-of-eight retrieve (and these would often be the better fish).

The idea of becoming proficient as a Nymph fisherman was most appealing. It made a lot of sense to attempt to imitate the trout’s natural diet. However, this still did not stop me buying a large box of lures which could obviously be relied upon if they had names such as 'Nobblers'.
Despite my lofty aspirations, I decided to start off the day with a lure. The first ‘take’ on a goldhead mini Cats Whisker slowly dribbled along the bottom was from a freshwater mussel. The live mussel had firmly clamped itself around my fly! However, after a few more casts I could bear it no longer, I had to have the courage of my convictions. I knew deep down that for me a Nymph fishing approach would be the most fulfilling method to use.

I took stock of the conditions. The sky was heavy with thick grey cloud. A cold, light north-easterly wind was blowing onto my left shoulder creating a light ripple. The water before me was about eight feet deep with a silty bottom. I hadn't seen anything hatch, but these were supposed to be perfect conditions for Cove-style Nymph fishing - and the fish would surely be loooking for something edible. I took off my sink-tip line and replaced it with a seven-weight floater. I did not think my rusty casting skills could yet cope with the recommended 18-foot leader, so I made up a twelve-foot leader with two droppers four feet apart.

I placed the heaviest fly, a Bloodworm with a little lead under the body, on the point, a Diawl Bach on the middle dropper and the lightest fly, a size 16 Hare's Ear on the top dropper. I was pleasantly surprised to find that this set-up of flies turned the leader over most effectively, even when casting into the wind.

To my surprise, I did not have to wait long before a rainbow decided it wanted my Hare's Ear. I had never caught a trout on such a small fly before. I went on to take four more rainbows, not one of which was under 2lb. I don't ever remember hearing my reel screech when I fished for trout in the 70's, but now it was whirring away merrily. The Bloodworm and Diawl Bach also proved to be successful. I found it a most enjoyable way of fishing - casting slightly downwind, allowing the line to drift around statically in the gentle breeze, just keeping in touch with the drifting flies and constantly anticipating a take is addictive stuff. Although I had initially wondered how I was going to detect a take to such inert flies, it soon became apparent that, on this day, I would not be left in any doubt. The takes were thrilling - really ripping the line - an unmistakeable draw which I could feel through my retrieve hand. I actually missed double the amount of takes I connected with, but after carefully re-reading Arthur Cove's work I later found that I would achieve more hook-ups if I reduced the bow in the line by regularly mending it upwind - using my rod-tip to lift line off the water and flick it upwind to the straighten the bow that constantly develops. This would not only allow me to keep in touch with the flies more effectively, but it also had the effect of slowing the line’s drift down and allowed the flies to sink down deeper. Striking sideways in the opposite direction to the drift, rather than lifting the rod tip upwards also proved to be very effective.

I would have been satisfied to go through this first season by simply avoiding blanks, however my reading, research and listening to the sagely advice of Eyebrook warden Andy Miller paid off to such an extent that the results exceeded my wildest expectations. I was regularly having what I would have considered to be red-letter days back in the 70's and, amazingly, blanked on only a few occasions. I quickly came to discover how deadly Nymph fishing can be and by the end of the season the box full of lures that I had stocked up with pre-season were largely untouched!

First featured in March 2004 - the beginning of a month-by-month series