Stephen Welsh
January 25th, 2004, 12:19 AM
.... a couple of days later we returned. The weather had improved somewhat
with only an intermittent shower driven by still strong winds. Breaks
were long enough for the march to be done without a coat so condensation
inside the jacket wasn't going to be the problem it was a couple of days
earlier. A breathable jacket is very high on the list of necessary items
now.
I'm not entirely sure why but I didn't fish for almost an hour: the other
guys setup immediately. Typically, the cormorant hit a fish in a handful
of casts on a woolly ... I thought I was polaroiding but didn't have a
rod to use even if I did see a fish. A funk I guess, zoned out perhaps.
Definately thinking about the hottest fish of the trip taken on a Bloody
Mary the second night.
Fishing one of the lower altitude lake inlets just on dark we picked up
some riseforms a good 20 yards out. Looking at our feet and on the rocks
there were small pale capering caddis. No idea why but I put on a Mary
(#8) mumbling something about "good rainbow fly" (and so it is from my
mainland (or the Big Island as some Tasmanians call it :) experiences.
Browns appreciate Marys too as I was to discover on subsequent evenings)
and "A moving wet should interest them in this light ..." and "... mother
of all caddis ..."
On the third cast about a third of the way through the retrieve a fish
took. Leaping fish leapt, gawping onlookers gawped and retrieved line
tangled. The wind had had its wicked way with the loops in my line hand.
Yes - I had a stripping basket back at the cabin. There was nothing for
it but to clamp up, hang on and disentangle the birdsnest and hope.
Luck's better half was in and the tangle cleared without too much fuss
and surprisingly few expletives. I had no idea what the fish had been
up to while clearing the tangle but once back on the reel it ran and
leaped again to the tune of "Ross Colorado", bored into the current at
the inlet then off again.
Checking the fly later the hook was starting to straighten but it held
long enough to land, admire and release - my third bit of luck.
Funk finally abating, I geared up tying on my last Tom Jones.
If I couldn't see a fish perhaps I could stir one or two up. I started
fishing short then quickly progressed to 15 metres or so when I saw a few
duns popping someway out into the bay I was fishing. Lifting off for a
cast had me onto fish of about a pound who managed to self-release.
Pennys dropped: fish close for a while, quickish retrieve.
Walking around the lake and casting to close in (less than 5 metres)
structure brought hits (and more often bow-waving follows right to the
bank) but no hook-ups. With the sky brightening it was now possible to
polaroid fish cruising the shallows in between the snags. If you can
see the fishes reaction to an your work - fly, cast, retrieve - you have
some chance of improving with fewer guesses. A couple of these
polaroided fish charged the fly on its landing but pulled up short -
not quite right. Off with its tail - wham! now we're talking.
The afternoon prosgressed with follows, hits, hookups, spotted fish
ambushed, one creek inlet had 4-5 fish in it all of whom charged the fly
but weren't taking. This turned out to be contagious, as my mate fishing
woollys started getting follows himself and one memorable charge that
seemed to go on forever covering 10 metres or so.
My other companion (there were three of us this day) preferred the
quieter pastime of setting up in a likely spot, polaroiding for fish but
all the while drifting a dry beetle pattern across bays in a beautiful
ripple. He had his share for the day as well.
As evening drew in around us, we fished places where we'd had follows or
sighted fish earlier in the day. Throw in fish rising and moving in the
shallows and it becomes difficult to drag yourself away.
The dry guy was watching other fish chase his hooked fish around. I
hooked up regularly on the same short tailed Tom Jones till I did it on a
snag. The woolly guy lost his last to a fish (that's some fish to swim
off with a last ;). It was fitting actually: we still had a mornings
fishing tomorrow if we wanted it, but this was the last afternoon. We
considered returning the next morning, but felt to do so would be an
anti-climax if not actually making pigs of ourselves.
The charging fish played on my mind a little: a week later it dawned
on me. I had been day-dreaming and replaying the instances of charges
and follows in my head. When the fish took I was fishing nearly parallel
to the bank i.e. the retrieve was parallel, or nearly so, to the bank.
When the charges and follows occurred the retrieve was straight into the
bank. Well that's something to keep in mind for next time I have to fish
wet.
It's quite amusing to think about the three trips to rivers we've had
since returning:- wet wading on two of them, no rainwear required. Closed
in mountain streams alive with march flys, mosquitoes, and fish that
took: red tags, black things, thebug, devil bugs, gum beetles, black
spinners and probably a couple more non-descript drys.
We actually stopped and investigated some favourite pools on the drive
home. Leaving rising fish (and large ones at that) unmolested isn't that
difficult at the end of a good day.
Steve
(fingers still swollen and itchy from fly bites "...aaaaand loving it" :)
with only an intermittent shower driven by still strong winds. Breaks
were long enough for the march to be done without a coat so condensation
inside the jacket wasn't going to be the problem it was a couple of days
earlier. A breathable jacket is very high on the list of necessary items
now.
I'm not entirely sure why but I didn't fish for almost an hour: the other
guys setup immediately. Typically, the cormorant hit a fish in a handful
of casts on a woolly ... I thought I was polaroiding but didn't have a
rod to use even if I did see a fish. A funk I guess, zoned out perhaps.
Definately thinking about the hottest fish of the trip taken on a Bloody
Mary the second night.
Fishing one of the lower altitude lake inlets just on dark we picked up
some riseforms a good 20 yards out. Looking at our feet and on the rocks
there were small pale capering caddis. No idea why but I put on a Mary
(#8) mumbling something about "good rainbow fly" (and so it is from my
mainland (or the Big Island as some Tasmanians call it :) experiences.
Browns appreciate Marys too as I was to discover on subsequent evenings)
and "A moving wet should interest them in this light ..." and "... mother
of all caddis ..."
On the third cast about a third of the way through the retrieve a fish
took. Leaping fish leapt, gawping onlookers gawped and retrieved line
tangled. The wind had had its wicked way with the loops in my line hand.
Yes - I had a stripping basket back at the cabin. There was nothing for
it but to clamp up, hang on and disentangle the birdsnest and hope.
Luck's better half was in and the tangle cleared without too much fuss
and surprisingly few expletives. I had no idea what the fish had been
up to while clearing the tangle but once back on the reel it ran and
leaped again to the tune of "Ross Colorado", bored into the current at
the inlet then off again.
Checking the fly later the hook was starting to straighten but it held
long enough to land, admire and release - my third bit of luck.
Funk finally abating, I geared up tying on my last Tom Jones.
If I couldn't see a fish perhaps I could stir one or two up. I started
fishing short then quickly progressed to 15 metres or so when I saw a few
duns popping someway out into the bay I was fishing. Lifting off for a
cast had me onto fish of about a pound who managed to self-release.
Pennys dropped: fish close for a while, quickish retrieve.
Walking around the lake and casting to close in (less than 5 metres)
structure brought hits (and more often bow-waving follows right to the
bank) but no hook-ups. With the sky brightening it was now possible to
polaroid fish cruising the shallows in between the snags. If you can
see the fishes reaction to an your work - fly, cast, retrieve - you have
some chance of improving with fewer guesses. A couple of these
polaroided fish charged the fly on its landing but pulled up short -
not quite right. Off with its tail - wham! now we're talking.
The afternoon prosgressed with follows, hits, hookups, spotted fish
ambushed, one creek inlet had 4-5 fish in it all of whom charged the fly
but weren't taking. This turned out to be contagious, as my mate fishing
woollys started getting follows himself and one memorable charge that
seemed to go on forever covering 10 metres or so.
My other companion (there were three of us this day) preferred the
quieter pastime of setting up in a likely spot, polaroiding for fish but
all the while drifting a dry beetle pattern across bays in a beautiful
ripple. He had his share for the day as well.
As evening drew in around us, we fished places where we'd had follows or
sighted fish earlier in the day. Throw in fish rising and moving in the
shallows and it becomes difficult to drag yourself away.
The dry guy was watching other fish chase his hooked fish around. I
hooked up regularly on the same short tailed Tom Jones till I did it on a
snag. The woolly guy lost his last to a fish (that's some fish to swim
off with a last ;). It was fitting actually: we still had a mornings
fishing tomorrow if we wanted it, but this was the last afternoon. We
considered returning the next morning, but felt to do so would be an
anti-climax if not actually making pigs of ourselves.
The charging fish played on my mind a little: a week later it dawned
on me. I had been day-dreaming and replaying the instances of charges
and follows in my head. When the fish took I was fishing nearly parallel
to the bank i.e. the retrieve was parallel, or nearly so, to the bank.
When the charges and follows occurred the retrieve was straight into the
bank. Well that's something to keep in mind for next time I have to fish
wet.
It's quite amusing to think about the three trips to rivers we've had
since returning:- wet wading on two of them, no rainwear required. Closed
in mountain streams alive with march flys, mosquitoes, and fish that
took: red tags, black things, thebug, devil bugs, gum beetles, black
spinners and probably a couple more non-descript drys.
We actually stopped and investigated some favourite pools on the drive
home. Leaving rising fish (and large ones at that) unmolested isn't that
difficult at the end of a good day.
Steve
(fingers still swollen and itchy from fly bites "...aaaaand loving it" :)