Euro-Trek

Typing this on a bumpy Scandinavian B-road, there's just enough time to reflect on an eventful trip so far. From the flat lands of Holland (a bit like Somerset, but with added windmills) through to Denmark, Sweden we now hit Finland. It's sweltering hot. I have about two dozen mozzy bites and a beard.


The image above, hastily taken on the phone, could be any one of the hundreds of beautiful, often untouched lakes out here. I've also been marvelling at strange foods and the odd corker of a mullet hair cut.
Trouble is, the fishing has been rock hard. It's just too hot for much except jack pike. Last night was a minor breakthrough though.
Zander are the real target out here- but they tend to frustrate. Just when I manage to tempt one and think I've cracked it, they play silly buggers. The locals all say I should be trolling with about six rods- but this is not my idea of fun. Plus, the lack of a boat doesn't help. Failing this then, I've been jigging over deep holes with the float tube. Thus is where the Zander lurk in the day, albeit thoroughly bored and not especially hungry. The theory is good then- the Practise lacking. Until I got bored and decided to try the edges of the lake on a couple of hot evenings. With the water cooling a little, the predators come to the edges to hunt. Bingo! some Zander at last, to small pike flies and lures!
The other fun of the tube is the looks you get from locals; you know that not quite convinced smile that says "you're really quite fucking mad aren't you?" to which I doff my hat and speak in broken Finnish.

The only other remarkable fish spotted was at the "Ripleys Believe it or Not" museum in Copenhagen. Above is a strange, fur covered trout. It was thought these cold lake fish had developed little coats to keep warm. The original freak trout generated so much interest that later on tourists spotted one Scot putting a little fluffy jacket on a trout! Weirdness seems to follow me out here though- including a nutty Swedish lady convinced that nuclear subs are hiding all over Europe, releasing brain washing chemicals into the atmosphere. If that's true, then I'm a Viking.
Well, on that bizarre note I should sign off before the data roaming charges leave me broke. Later on I will have the unfamiliar pleasure of eating a Zander that I kept for the table. Feels weird for a Brit, but so very different out here with some 180 000 lakes and no shortage of fish! Still, I'm not about to fish like a Tiverton laborer and swap my landing net for a Tescos bag and a blunt object.

From chewing on flies, to flies on Chew

Boundaries continue to blur in recent fishing, with more coarse fish on fly tackle. One thing's for sure- the fish don't give a piscatory toss which category the tackle falls into. Rudd and roach continue to inspire, and it has been a great thrill not only to keep catching them but to see others also testing the waters with success. From my older brother the salmon fanatic to regular fishing mates Norbert Darby, Ian Nadin and Steve Moore, everyone seems to be enjoying some exciting fly fishing for coarse species.

I like this sharing of fishing and ideas (and usually friendly insults). Definitely what fishing should be about, rather than secretive spots, meaningless figures and clashing egos. You learn so much more by being relaxed and sharing info- and certainly, the hotter it gets the more active the roach and rudd seem to be (unlike trout!).

I've also been linking up with film maker and fellow writer Steve Lockett to capture the action in both still and moving pictures. More on this later, but it has been productive fishing with wet flies singling out some delightfully chunky rudd. Spiders seem to work best- either a black and peacock or a red bodied spider in sizes 12-14 especially useful. For the Tiverton or Taunton to Bridgwater canals, I would recommend a long walk with a light rod, but also a long handled landing net to reach over the reeds and other obstructions. Parts of the Amazon probably offer easier water access! The roach and rudd can be tricky to hit, but the bigger mouthed and better sized fish are less rapid biting, hence somewhat easier to hook:


For a very different experience I also headed out for a day in the company of Steve Moore to Chew. We began in search of trout, but with warm, dry weather very little seemed prepared to feed. We needed little invitation to switch to pike, a sensible move. Whilst not exactly hectic, we enjoyed some good sport and stonking battles on fly tackle.

Pike are sometimes strange creatures. You hook the jacks and they go ballistic, making you think you've hooked a monster. And then you hook a fish that feels lacklustre- before it suddenly remembers it's a brute and says "sod this, I'm off!" I was connected to something big just before lunchtime, which not only gave me a near heart attack beside the boat but then proceeded to put twenty yards between us and stick it's gruesome chops out of the water.... before ridding itself of the fly with a shake of the head. I couldn't help but keep playing it over in my head with those fatal words- "if only." We both managed to boat pike later on though, topped by this nice double. For Chew, nothing to necessitate a change of underwear- by any normal angler's standards, a bloody nice fish.

Steve enjoyed his day too, until developing casting-related cramp in his hand next day. Compared to trout fishing it is hard work slinging big flies around I guess, but glad to report Steve was on the mend when I ran into him on the Exe. I had hoped for bream, but basically came nearer to swans on a slow Saturday evening in the town. When you've been fly fishing it can seem a bit dull to sit behind rods. The fly fever is catching with others too and my other half Jo also did herself proud with a rainbow trout on a Kennick "learn to fly fish" day. Learning to cast is a bit like learning to drive I guess- not best done with a lecture from your partner! So much for gender stereotypes then- she caught it, I cooked it in mustard sauce.
In other news, I'm about to embark on a well earned holiday- just as soon as I've killed off the 101 jobs on my "to do" list. Expect a short break then, with possibly some random updates from Sweden and Finland to follow on my travels.

Wandering the Wye/ Barbel on the fly

Britain may be a small island in the grand scheme of things, but sometimes you forget just how fantastically diverse our waters are. The River Wye couldn't be a more grand contrast to my favourite little streams of the Westcountry. It's also home to some phenomenal shoals of chub and barbel. I had been itching to return, in particular to try with a fly rod for the barbel. If anyone could put me on the right trail- or indeed explain the timeless fascination of this great Welsh river- it was Bob James.

Bob has fished here as long as I've been alive- and while modern specimen type tactics work, he's an even bigger fan of more intimate methods. Clear water and a pair of waders make anything possible- trotting, touch legering, free lining or you've guessed it, a fly rod. In fact the early season is ideal for a moving bait or fly, as the barbel are still highly active. What really surprised me was Bob's talk of just how aggressive these fish are- not only will they literally barge chub off a bed of feed, they will actively predate on minnows. Needless to say, with a good dose of loose feed it didn't take long to connect with some solid fish.

With the river looking beautifully sunny and wild, I knew this was going to be as good an opportunity as I'd get to tempt a barbel on a fly rod. The sheer size and pace of such a big river can be a challenge- and I found even heavy patterns needed an extra pinch of tungsten putty to trundle the depths.
But at last, here was a river not hopelessly high or muddy, but dropping and looking bang on! I could see fish moving in knee deep water and doing that classic rolling movement near the bottom. Could this actually be game on for a change? After all my maddening attempts previously, I was praying my luck might finally change.
It was to prove a nerve-wracking afternoon to put it mildly. I had a couple of fish refuse- or simply not see the fly- point blank, and was wondering exactly what it might take. YOu also have trouble with currents, fishing trout style and trying to get the fly well upstream- far better to get close and aim across or even slightly downstream.
Eventually, I managed to guide a heavy Walker's Mayfly nymph into the path of the next fish, literally stumbling over the bottom. This time, the fish slid across to look. The nymph was gone, I struck and everything went solid. Fish on!
When you finally manage to hook one, you might be forgiven for wondering what's going on with such fish. These barbel are downright stubborn fighters- hugging the bottom one moment like an immovable object, powering off the next!
The fight must have lasted a few minutes but felt like longer. Bob came with the net, but each time the fish got closer, it seemed to rage off again.

A barbel on the fly of almost dead on seven pounds is an absolute dream come true! What can I say, other than that I am still in shock!

Treading Waters

Fishing is the greatest pastime of all when it comes to following up a million mysterious leads. There simply aren't enough days in the year to follow up on every hunch you have or water you'd like to explore. However, I like to have a bloody good go! There is so much more fishing out there than you ever read about. If anything, the growth of blogging and web articles have heralded a more varied and open version of the sport, rather than mainstream articles which often confuse catching big fish with interesting fishing. In the midst of the copy I provide magazines, my own blog represents possibly my least polished writing- but you will find some of the more interesting subplots and smaller stones turned over.

This week I got back to some bass in the esteemed company of David Pilkington and Ben Garnett. For David it was a welcome day off from his guiding- for Ben it seemed like something of a field trip. For those who don't know my brother, Ben is very much a "wild fish in wild places" angler and is a dedicated natural scientist. A fanatic. This is the reprobate who culled the brighter coloured goldfish in my folks' pond because they "weren't natural enough". You couldn't say the same about bass in a million years.
With dodgy weather ruling out the open coast, we headed for an estuary mark. David has been increasingly drawn to bass for the past few seasons, which provide another angle to his guiding. Conditions were wretchedly windy, but that didn't dampen our enthusiasm and several gutsy school bass came our way- some of them more like Kindergarten than school bass! Just to get the line out and catch something seemed like a result on a day better suited to kite surfing. Nevertheless, for anyone looking to explore bass on the fly I wouldn't hesitate to give Dave a call (see the Arundell Arms link on my site, or google it). I can't give away our specific location, but if anyone can put you on the bass, it's Dave.


In the meantime I continue to be fascinated by our canals. Bigger adventures are all well and good, but I just love the diversity of species and methods on these little waters. Joining me for a very early Sunday service on the Taunton to Bridgwater canal was Seb Nowosiad. We fished flies, lures and baits at different times to enjoy a really varied day of sport. I also like these places simply because they are so beautiful. With rows of tall trees and pretty, lily dotted water you could easily think you were in rural France- until the bloody rain sets in.

Not easy fishing on this occasion, but a different possibility at every turn. I had roach and rudd on the fly, Seb had perch, pike and a terrific 3lb plus chub on a lure. We saw several others, which were amazingly spooky- nevertheless, they are clearly catchable provided you don't scare them first.

Gathering Flies

I always love a quiet hour or two at the vice tying some flies. Lately it has felt more like a week or two of solid work however, with some 60 or more patterns on the go for both a book project and also material for an American magazine feature on "The Perfect 10 British Trout Flies"- a great honour if something of a nightmare narrowing down centuries of great flies into a mere ten classics! So where do we start? Those who have never tied a fly of any kind might take heart from the Black & Peacock- which consists of thread, peacock herl and black hen... and that's it! Bloody good for trout but also useful for coarse fish:

I also have a liking for traditional stalwarts, and for anyone suspicious of passing angling fads, the March Brown has been catching trout for some 500 years!

Turning out flies to a publishable standard is always a great challenge. With a quality macro lens (Nikons are used for micro surgery, such is their quality!) every little fault shows up. The messier results fill my fly boxes- only the best go to the publishers! It's a bit like a ruthless modelling audition- you pick and preen the best little buggers to look spot on... and the slightly fat or scruffy ones are asked to leave. After several attempts, here is my version of Richard Walker's classic Hanningfield Lure- it was designed for trout, but Walker found it even deadlier for perch, the jointed effect giving it extra wiggle:


The range of flies and materials is truly vast. This week I've used everything from partridge feathers to strips cut from a Doritos packet in this little buzzer:

The fussy flies can drive you to madness, which is why I always welcome some meaty predator patterns into the mix. And who says pike flies can't be pretty (before they get bitten, obviously!). Here are a pair of poppers, I paint the bodies by hand:

June has thus been a mixed blessing with all the rain I guess- at least you don't feel like you're missing much by spending hours tying up flies when outdoors looks less than appetising. For those less than keen on tying their own flies I am always willing to consider any requirements you may have too. And unlike the shops with their imports I can always produce patterns for less fashonable species- from roach and rudd, to perch and zander.

Rudd rising

What brilliant summer fish rudd are. Sadly less widespread these days, in part due to fisheries and clubs that insist on chopping back all forms of vegetation, their pursuit is always an adventure. In the past weeks I've walked many miles in search of visible fish, skirting little ponds and walking the banks of rural canals. And worth every step. These fish will gamely take a fly and the warmer the weather gets, the more they seem willing to rise to dry flies. Part of the thrill is the sheer lack of any track record- the few anglers with any interest fish with bait for them.

If anything, fly fishing seems more selective than maggots or bread, which get clobbered by the tiddlers before that chunky mother has even taken notice. Finding clear water in which you can target specific fish is often the real battle. Boat traffic is bad news and with the better fish seeming quite spread out I'm getting used to making early starts and really covering the banks. It's a bit like cooking a special dish; several key ingredients have to be in place, but when it all comes together it's a right bloody treat. Forget muddy water and bite indicators- nothing beats tricking visible fish in clear water. Roach have been active too, and the real surprise is just how aggressive the fish have been of late. The same creatures that were cagey buggers in the cooler months will now really hammer a fly. A little while back I was catching on tiny, size 16 and 18 buzzers and spiders. Yesterday a size 10 seemed better, with the fish chasing and hitting a dark nymph with an almost predatory verve. Best fish of a thrilling session was this 1lb 9oz roach- or is it a roach/rudd hybrid? Perhaps somebody can tell me- internet research tends to yield a pretty haywire bag of truths, half truths and pure fiction!

The other great aspect of the week has been fishing in good company. I was due to fish for tench with Ian Nadin, but with these fish spawning we quickly switched to silver fish and he managed roach, rudd, perch and even a skimmer, all on his first fly rod session for silver fish. Also travelling light with me has been Russ Hilton. On a piece of breadflake he took the shock catch of the week with a cracking chub of 3lb 7oz! We'd seen little chublets before on the Taunton to Bridgwater canal but this was a genuine surprise. The grin was even wider because I managed to miss it two hours before on the fly, a hasty strike pulling my hopper straight out of its gob!

Dirty Towns & Wild Browns

The search for exciting, interesting fishing takes us to some wild, unspoiled places. It also takes us to some crusty, bizarre locations. I'm quickly coming to the conclusion that unlikely fishing is often good fishing. The trout in and around the Exe and Lowman in Tiverton are a prime example. Grubby surroundings, yes. But even the shadow of recent pollution doesn't seem to have killed a surprisingly rich environment. Visiting angling scribe Theo Pike has a particular interest in these urban gems, having taken an active role in restoring the River Wandle close to his own home in London. Visiting family in Devon, it seemed the perfect opportunity to have a crack at some similarly townie trout. It was nice not to be the only nutter walking about town with a fly rod anyway. Judging by a few kick samples, you could hardly call these urban waters infertile:

We found the trout highly receptive. The only bother they usually get here is an occasional misplaced clearance from the football pitches, or the odd rusty spinner or beer bottle. Appearances can be so deceptive though. Reminds me of some advise my dad once gave me- "never pick a fight with an ugly person..?." No, it was something about judging books by covers. And this particular book, is such a world away from its rather shoddy cover. Amidst the usual debris and a staggering four shopping trolleys and a drowning flat screen TV we picked our way through a series of curious little pools and runs. Theo opted for miniature sedge patterns in 16s to extract some lovely brown trout, looking every inch wild. Most were in the small but pretty stamp, although one or two really took us by surprise.

Are urban trout any different to those of more idyllic places? It seems that they are well used to the odd passer by, so perhaps spook less easily- or at least take less time to settle again after a misplaced cast. It was a week of urban fishing in fact, with some rudd, bleak, chub, a skimmer and even a lost tench on the Bridgwater stretch of canal.

All good fun then. Not the most peaceful fishing exactly, but there's always a curious excitement about catching fish from places where it doesn't look possible. I even managed to produce a trout simultaneously as a passing chav issued the classic "you won't catch nothing in there" line. I was about to point out that this was grammatically incorrect, but didn't want a punch in the face and the fish seemed a decent enough reply. I guess that the moral of the tale is not to judge the fishing by the scenery then. In fact, a strange setting only adds to interesting fishing. My favourite snap shot from a few erm, "vibrant", urban locations has to be this one however, Theo Pike trying to spot rising fish beneath the hulking mechanical arm of a neighbouring scrapyard. It's fly fishing Jim, but not as we know it: