Late Summer Sea Trout on the River Earn
by John Gray
By August, the best of the night fishing is normally over on the Earn but, in
the season of 2003, there was no "best" and, following a hard and unproductive early season, I
had forsaken its familiar streams for pastures new, with some pleasingly
unexpected results. Reluctant to give up on her altogether, though, a recent
less than optimistic return visit and the dubious encouragement of a lost fish
had, even at this late stage, given renewed
hope...... enough to justify one more night...... although, in truth, nothing
more than the most flimsy of excuses is needed to draw me to a sea trout river
on a summer night.
A forty five
minute drive brings me to the usual parking place, within a mile of my favourite
pool.
 I
hurriedly put up the rod in the fast failing light, unaccustomed to such an
early start. The attentions of a few midges prompt a spray of Skin so Soft. I am
not yet convinced of its effectiveness but, if nothing else, I smell nice! A
quick check on more important items - car keys, fly boxes, spools of nylon, LED
torch, scissors, eighteen inch Gye net, no need for a priest - and I take the
path to the river, now slightly overgrown through disuse yet still familiar even
on the darkest of nights. Tonight is calm and clear, the warm air heavy with
summer scent as I near the river, my way lit by a full moon still low in the
southern sky. A fallen tree, as yet uncleared, blocks my path and I have to
crawl under - I must remember that on the way back.
Ahead of me, a
motherly mallard flaps her way upriver towards my pool. More of a glide really,
maybe fifty yards long, it will be more than enough to keep me occupied for a
couple of hours. It's a night for midges, moths and bats. The parr are active
and the bank of cloud
looming on the horizon promises to obscure the moon as I make a quiet start well
above the hot spot. Things look hopeful. An indignant heron stalls in mid flight
squaarking in loud protest, unaccustomed to the intrusion.
 I
can't avoid the attentions of some small trout as I wade, knee deep, slowly and
carefully towards the glide. I start to concentrate just a bit more as the
increased current catches my line, swinging it round in a nice arc over the
width of the stream. I become aware of a series of waves approaching from the
far bank. I watch as they continue upstream, though it is now too dark to make
out the culprit, most likely a travelling otter. I am glad it didn't stop to
explore my pool, as some do, popping a curious nose up within a rod length to
gauge the quality of the competition. I settle back in to the rhythm of cast,
swing, retrieve, lift - yes, that was a good pull, not a parr that time..... the
otter may have stirred the sea trout up. I hear a loud spaloosh a hundred yards
downriver. I concentrate. A bow wave on the smooth surface of the glide makes me
concentrate even more on the next half dozen casts. Just towards the end of
the
swing I feel a slight pull and I can make out a swirl on the dark surface twenty
yards below. I immediately recast and, when the pull comes again, I am ready for
it and lift the rod into a good sea trout. I bring it to the net as quickly as I
can, a good strong fish of two and a half pounds just starting to colour, it has
taken the slim stainless steel tube fly on the tail.
 I
quickly return the fish before struggling with the size fourteen treble firmly
caught in the net. Eleven o'clock. Not a bad start. I start in again just above
where I hooked the fish. A mist creeps upriver as the moon makes a brief
reappearance but the night air is still warm so I decide to persevere. A good
decision. The mist goes as suddenly as it came and within half an hour the sky
is overcast and dark. The second sea trout of the night, slightly larger and
stronger than the first at three pounds, takes me by surprise at midnight. It
takes a bit longer to bring to the net, firmly hooked in the lower jaw. It too
is safely returned. Well satisfied with the best night I have had on the river
this year, I sit for a while on the bankside log and enjoy the still of the
night before making my way back along the riverside path towards the car. I must
remember that fallen tree.....
|
|
|
