Looking for the Lunking Ladies on the Wye

I was desperate to get out fishing again this week as I'm away in Scotland and then London with work for a good couple of weeks quite soon. Earlier in the week, Jan, one of the river keepers, very kindly showed me around one or two spots on this lovely Derbyshire river. I remember swearing every few yards or so as I came across fishy looking swims over and over again. Other anglers reading this will know exactly what I mean about Tourettes syndrome setting in as you round a bend and find a deep glide, or a fast riffle dropping into a deep trench, or rippled moving water that has fish written all over it. If you'd have heard me a couple of days ago, when first visiting this stretch of river, you'd have thought I'd turned into Glen Pointon, or worse still Roger Mellie (the man on the telly).

I put up a pic on the previous post of my first decent sized grayling of October on this particular river. Having seen the pic, one or two readers have given me a pound and a half for it...any advance on that? I'll certainly be wanting more than that for the lovely fish I caught early this afternoon which is shown in the two pics on this post.

I started out fairly early today. I got the car packed up even before the kids were up and ready for school. It was a cool and completely overcast morning and I thought it looked almost perfect for grayling fishing. There was a spot of rain in the air and at first, I had a job to get organised and my OCD started to kick in when I realised that, because of the low air temperature and the threat of rain, I may have to wear a coat. Those that have fished with me know how my head goes if everything isn't just how it ought to be....

And so I made my way down the river, trying desperately to remember all of the spots that I'd fished a few days ago and where Jan had pointed out features, swims and runs to me. Once again I was completely taken aback by the beauty of the place, the river and the whole valley really. It reminds me so much of Pitlochry in the Highlands, you're never far away from a dipping dipper, a fleeting kingfisher or the eerie scream of a buzzard above the trees. There's many a spot that wouldn't be out of place in a Turner. The banks are a pleasure to fish, yes it can be a challenge to the angler to get the right cast in without wading, but all the more rewarding when the take comes and a fish ends up in the net. I've found that, even with my 10ft 4wt Streamflex, it's nearly always possible to make that cast whenever, and wherever you want to.

I was taking fish all the way down the stretch and once at the end, I sat down and tucked into my lunch and took in the surroundings once more. I had a leisurely stroll back and had a particular spot in mind. I'd fished it in the morning and dropped a couple of fish but was sure that it was holding a good few more. I'd got an hour before I was to leave in time for the school run so I had enough time to get a few casts in before heading off back to the car. I was dropping fish again and was getting a little frustrating and started to think about my last cast. This time I'd cast just that little bit further, and nearer to an overhanging branch. No sooner had the drift began than the tip of the line shot away and a good fish was on. I new it was a decent fish immediately and I was desperate not to drop this one as I knew it would be a perfect end to the day.

After a decent scrap, this lovely fish came to the net. It had taken the point fly which I was surprised by given that almost all of the others had taken the dropper.

Another superb day's fishing on the Wye. I'm hoping the grayling just keep getting bigger and bigger....

David

Tyzack, Teviot and Tweed: A Good Combination for Lunking Grayling

5.45am Friday 15th January. Peering from the condensated bedroom window, I eventually see a pair of lights shining down the lane and I know that the time has come. Pointon and I are about to embark on our first angling expedition of 2010.

The weather websites had promised various conditions ahead of us, everything from still, bright, sunny days, to full on, 4omph winds and drifting, freezing snow. We'd been in touch with our guide, none other than England Rivers Champion Mr John Tyzack, and between us we decided to go for it, pack plenty of warm clothing, plenty of tackle and plenty of beer tokens. Lets face it, we thought, with Tyzack's talent, and TV's rising star Pointon as part of our team, we were sure to land some lunkers and have a laugh along the way....we weren't to be disappointed.

So Glen and I headed up the M6, and stopped for a 10 part breakfast in a small cafe in Tebay. What would the conditions be like, we thought, how would we cope with the icebergs, the slippery banks, the freezing weather, the driving sleet and snow? Who would catch, would we catch, would Woody down too much scotch and have to bow out on the Saturday morning session?


We would rendez-vous with Tyzack and his friends, Andy and Rich just outside Langholm. It was obvious we were all keen on getting tackled up and into the river as soon as possible, all knowing that, whilst we had at least two full day's fishing ahead of us, we had a lot of big water to cover.

We made our way North to Denholm where we purchased our Hawick rivers day tickets which would allow us to fish the Teviot. John had explained to us that the fish would be hard to find given the size of the river, but when we did find them, they could be of record breaking size.

Arriving at the car park, we donned our waders, neoprene for me today, fearing the cold, and went to have a look over the bridge at the large, and powerful river below. Pointon immediately became rather animated, jumping up and down in a broad potteries accent, expletives pouring out of his face, occasionally interjected with the odd, "Salmon", "massive", and "fag". We'd seen a large fish downstream of the bridge, and above it we'd seen a huge Salmon flashing on it's side with another large male fish just upstream from it and we presumed that these would be spawning. They were huge fish and it gave us that feeling electric feeling that every take could be a connection with a monster fish. We were clearly about to enter a watery world much different than our comparatively smaller streams of the Dove, Wye and Churnet.

Upstream from the bridge, Tyzack and I got into the river. I was quite nervous at first given the power of the river but John was building my confidence, making sure that I was well within my comfort zone at all times. I'd borrowed a 10ft 4wt Streamflex and JT showed me how to rig up for a 3 fly, Czech nymphing set up and the principles of how to fish it and I quickly started to become comfortable with it. He's an excellent tutor with amazing attention to detail, frequently offering correcting advice and observing every aspect of your technique, without making you feel nervous or under pressure. John had a take early on and landed a Grayling of about a pound, about ten minutes later, I hooked into a similar sized fish and faster, shallower water.

We were a little surprised to be finding fish in faster water and we worked our way upstream and fished a new swim. Things were quite tough and takes were few and far between especially given the surprisingly good conditions of the river, running a few inches up and very clear.

A few minutes later there came a shout and JT was into a good sized fish from shallow, fast, water. Glen and I congratulated as he landed this superb 2lb Scottish Lady. "Come on Woody, let's get you a fish son", said John, and he explained where he'd seen the take, on the far bank on a sharp bend on this large, Scottish river.

I'd made 2 or 3 passes with my flys and I'd got that electric feeling that any second now, my indicator line would dive under water and I would be into the fight of my life time...and with that, all I could see was ivory Grey's Platinum and she was on. Shy at first but then the fish had realised that all was not as it should be, and it was lunging head down for the gravel.

John walked to the bank and put down his rod and waded back through the water to guide me through landing this lovely fish. "That's a good fish Woody!", he shouted as he got nearer to me, giving me more and more encouragement all the while , he new it was crucial for all of us that I landed this fish to grow my confidence and to beef up the team spirit. He grabbed my arm so that all I needed to think about was landing that fish, worrying about wading and playing at the same time would decrease my chances of landing this beautiful lunking Lady.

"Well done Woooooddddyyyyyyyy!!! You ****!" Shouted you know who, and I was chuffed to bits. Pointon got his video camera out and made me wear one of those Scottish hats with red hair attached and set me up good and proper, much to the amusement of the rest of the team over beers later on that evening in the bar.

Glen's weighing net came in handy and we soon discovered that the fish was 2lb 2oz, a personal best for me.

We fished the same swim for a little while longer but it began to look like JT had found a pair of fish in that swim and we'd landed both of them so it was time to move on.

Andy had taken 6 or 8 further upstream and Rich had managed a couple but we all agreed that it was tough so we decided to jump in the cars and to move on to another stretch of the Teviot.


It was getting late but we had time to try out a few more swims, and we fanned out along a large stretch. There were many places that you'd put money on striking into fish but it was just not happening and I started to wonder whether, as JT had told us, that snow melt and road salt may be affecting the fishing. However, even though conditions were hard, the combination of JT's excellent guiding and the amazing surroundings made it all worth while.

We called it a day at about 4.30pm, made our way back to the digs in Kelso and headed for the pub. We had a right good natter, a few games of killer, and it wasn't long before the ale started to have the desired affect on Pointon and his legendary social etiquette started to kick in. He was rubbered and had us all in fits of laughter with his reminiscences of incidents involving everything from a meeting with Spongebob Squarepants, an instruction to pass wind, how to rewire a brothel and I don't think any of the group, myself included, will ever, ever forget Glen's description of his new passion of playing the trombone, please email him for more details.

That night was sleepless for a number of reasons. Snoring, farting in a Potteries accent, farting in a Manc accent, Pointon snoring, Pointon talking in his sleep about Tyzack's style of fishing, Pointon snoring, Pointon's alarm clock at 4.30am, Pointon Snoring, Tyzack beating pointon with pillows trying to stop him snoring, and Pointon snoring.

Yesterday the big thaw happened and we headed home, every river in the Borders of Scotland being near enough over the bank and unfishable, but we'd had a great time, some lovely lunking Scottish Grayling and a really good laugh along the way.

Please don't laugh too much at the video of me that Pointon will inevitably post on his blog.

David

Wood and Pointon Go for the Grayling In The Highlands of Derbyshire...At Last

This was a day that had been coming for weeks, and well over due. Well, a week overdue. Last week, Leonie and I even booked into the Peacock in Rowsley so I could fish the Wye in and around Bakewell, in the right Royal Highlands of Derbyshire, twinned with Pitlochry don't you know. But it turned out that it was a charity day, so, I wasn't allowed.

And so, once again, I'd been lucky enough to be invited to fish the Wye with none other than my old chum Glen Tarquin Pointon of Haddon. (Formerly Lord Rocher of Oshbonk, previously a member of Leek and District Fly Fishing Association and Derby Railway Angling Club, but now moved on to pastures new)

I'd been looking forward to the day's fishing immensely. I hadn't been able to get out onto the rivers at all over the last couple of weeks through one reason or another and was ready for a laugh with Glen. And so, I was pretty annoyed when, at 5.30 am, I was awoke when, basically, a gale happened in our front garden. Crap. Tarquin and I exchanged a couple of phone calls at around 9am, would we go or wouldn't we, and eventually, we decided that we may as well have a run out and at least have a look at the river.

More often than not, one hears Glen before one sees him and this morning was no exception. I could hear his van and his accent as he drove down the track towards chez Wood. Wisps of B&H smoke rising from the crack in the off side window, "American Idiot" shattering the still, Sunday morning, autumnal air.

We packed up all of our kit into the back of Glen's van and we were all set for the off. All I needed to do was to negotiate my way through the Pointon debris and into the passenger seat, a feat easy than one may first imagine. It's full on advertising for Bensons, MacDonalds, crisps and disposable coffee cups. By his own admission, Glen isn't the most organised of chaps, and on top of this, the heaters were on full bore, "arr lark it worm" he explained. It was a bit like sitting in the middle of a council waste incinerator.

So we sped off up the Buxton road, through Buxton itself and on down the A6 towards Bakewell. Here and there we had a peek at the river and it didn't look promising at all. In places, the river was nearly onto the road, full of foam and colour and looking totally unfishable. However, as we got towards Bakewell, things started to look up. We stopped near Ashford and to our amazement, the river was only slightly up and had a faint milky tinge. Confidence started to grow.

Confidence started to grow even further when we decided that it would be rude not to start off by discussing tactics over an unfeasibly large breakfast, accompanied by the hottest coffee we'd ever, ever tasted (it had a half life of 150 years), and 14 rounds of toast. The waitress looked at us as if we were a bit odd.
Anyway, Glen read me the rules. No wading, barbless hooks, avoid hooking a trout at all costs, and off we went into the town stretch. The water was colouring up more and more as the day went on and I remember thinking that this could make picking out Grayling from the Trout a little on the tricky side.

Anyway, on my first cast, somewhere near to the cricket pavilion, I hooked into my first Grayling of the day, kindly modelled here by Glen Tarquin Pointon himself.

I had rigged up with a duo set up, a balloon caddis on the dropper, with a weighted pink shrimp about 2 1/2 Feet below on the point. I took a risk in the morning and packed my 6ft 6 Streamflex, wondering whether I would not have the length I might need, but it turned out to be perfect and great fun with the smaller fish.

To compare methods, Glen had decided to use his 9ft 5 wt Streamflex as he would be nymphing with a team of bugs.

Throughout the day, we both had success on our methods and we'd exceeded all our expectations. We set out in the morning thinking that a fish a piece would be good and we ended up with about a dozen or so between us.





It was another great day's fishing. Our usual haunts on the Dove further South would surely have been flooded and the Wye had given us a brief, 3 or 4 hour window to get some top quality Grayling fishing in. As well as the fishing, we'd also had a good laugh too as we always do, and we'd had a chance to put the world to rights.




The last fish of the day was this mini-lunker that took the shrimp on the lower reaches of the stretch in Rowsley and was the perfect end to another great angling session.

Cheers Glen for a great day's sport.

David

Wye The Peacock after The Grayling on the Dove

So, the anticipation was over, the day had come, Sunday 25th October was to be a big do. I was all set to fish with Lord Pointon on his beloved stretch of the river Wye in and around England's slightly bigger version of Pitlochry, and without the salmon, the wee toon of Bakewell. I'd also booked Leonie and I into the Peacock for The Wine Shop Christmas party and was looking forwards to collapsing in front of the big log fire with a pint of fine ale and a big dram of Laphroaig after a breezy autumnal day on the banks of the bonny Wye.

"Way conner goo youth", I was dismayed to hear, as apparently the Wild Trout Trust had got it for the day so they had priority. So, that was that.

I headed up to Milldale for the morning. The weather was, fine, bright and a little breezy. I crossed the bridge at Milldale and noticed immediately that there was a fair bit of water and colour in the Dove today after the sporadic rain showers we've had during the last few days. It was clear that Autumn had began to really kick in since my last outing given the amount of leaves on the water. I noticed that the colours were changing everywhere, lush greens giving way to gold, reds and browns.

I decided to pay more attention to the first couple of hundreds of yards of the Leek and District Angling Association stretch, staying longer than I usually would in each pool, given the amount of extra depth there was to explore.

I dropped a couple of fish early on and decided to move down to a pool that I usually find to be quite tricky to get at and cast in given the amount of snags and low branches that are here and about.

I was sure that today, I'd have a bit more chance of catching here though as there was more depth to the pool and I'd bought my shorter, 6ft 6" Streamflex, given me a little more room for casting than usually afforded by my 8ft Snowbee "Pike rod". (As so cruelly christened by Glen). I also find it much easier to flick a fly about with a short rod like my Streamflex. I did, however, still manage to loose a good few flies.

I caught a nice couple of Grayling on the duo and then hooked into the one in the pic, right in mid stream and he gave me a right old scrap. A lovely fish. I decided to quit while the going was good and made my way to check in at the Peacock, where, needless to say, we had fabulous food, lots of drinks, and a very posh bedroom.

Didn't see any fishermen though??

David