The glow of the evening sun as it sought sanctuary on the horizon filtered through the trees casting eerie shadows on the riffle. Calm had descended on the riffle and soon William noticed the increase in fly life, Olive’s, Caddis, Midge all went about their business little realising the all important role they played in Williams’s pursuit of trout. As though on cue, directed by the baton of an orchestra conductor the river burst into life, a symphony of sips, of slashes, of underwater swirls.
Supper time, the even rise had started as nature had intended. Birth, death and regeneration, offering to the angler a glimpse into the magical world that surrounds us. Magical does not even begin to describe the sheer beauty of this daily event that goes un-noticed by all but the luckiest of people, the fly angler. The patient angler that marvels at the unfolding miracle and takes time to observe will not alone catch more trout but will go home with a great deal of humility at the realisation that he is but a small part of this complex jigsaw that nature has created. Dusk fishing is best savoured alone and free from distraction to soak in all the pleasures that nature was offering.
William glanced at the RoLeX (god he loved that watch, a present from Gabby), 9:34, June 21st, the longest day of the year in this neck of the woods. On past experience William reckoned he had only twenty minutes before he needed to go back downstream to the pool of the gods. “What tactics will I employ”; he wondered. Experimentation is part of the joy of fly fishing and this window of opportunity needed to be grasped. Judging by the splashy rises and fierce underwater swirl’s he reckoned that caddis were on the menu and proving themselves a poplar choice with many of the trout. Easy choice you may think, but many trout were also taking olives, “here we go again, decisions, decisions, decisions, ah heck, let's have some fun.”
William set about changing his cast to an experimental tactical team. He liked that term of Mike C’s, sounded way better than NZ style or washing line or duo or trio or the host of other terminology that anglers are so caught up in. It gave the impression that you knew what you are doing and that can’t be a bad thing. It also made you think through what the team was doing, not simply chuck it and see what transpires.
On the point a lightly weighted Triple threat caddis, on the middle dropper a Partridge and Orange , nah this is experiment time, so its Woodcock and Orange and on the top dropper a size 14 CDC olive emerger with a hare body guard hair thorax, that should hold the others up without submerging. the CDC emerger was not the best of choices from an engineering point of view, but he would be fishing at short range and there was still enough light to see it.
William could feel Mike C breathing down his neck and shouting “are you sure that will work, you are trying to play the field here…”. “Off course I ain’t bloody sure, this is an experiment, MY EXPERIMENT ,now leave me to enjoy success or sulk in failure….. please”, William was talking to shadows again.
Casting up and across a few feet ahead of a rise , a trout splashed at the CDC emerger but William failed to connect. Great thought William, “see Mike , I managed to tempt that trout”. Tempt, any fool with a fly and a rod can tempt laughed the shadows in contempt. Okay , thought William , have it your way but this is going to work even if I have to stay here all night – game on. William waited a few minutes and when the trout was rising confidently again, he cast , this time dropping the point fly a few yards upstream of the rise. Tracking back he raised the rod ever so slightly , the CDC emerger paused, the triple threat inched up in the column, the rod tip dropped letting the CDC emerger continue its journey and the triple threat descended. The watching trout registered this all so tiny movement, moved sideways of station and engulfed the triple treat.
Feeling oh so clever as he released the trout, “Success, damn fine experiment”. “Experiment my ass shouted Mike from the shadows, that’s allmost downright plagiarism, but well done anyway, glad to be of help, I will leave you to enjoy , tight lines”
To be continued next week, gotta finish this before July
that I contemplate taking William and his spiders/flymphs/softhackles up through the riffle.
http://fly.greysfishing.com/en-gb/produ ... flex-plus/
and it confirmed that if he wanted to get to fish his chosen pool for dusk that he would have to move through the riffle in 90 minutes. No problem he thought, it will mean selective casting to the best spots and ignoring anything else. The riffle had numerous bands of weed and plenty of small boulders; it would simply be a case of covering the water between the weeds and any darker bands of water that suggested a slight increase in depth. William was excited at the prospect of using his new weapon, intrigued by the prospects of being in control. He had read all the great works from angling literature , Skues, Webster and many of the more modern bibles of fishing spiders and flymph’s. Though he was inspired by them and had caught many trout he felt that his methods were at best average and try as he might he simply could not put into practice the subtleties of the craft that so many of the greats alluded to.
w/Vicki........... 
VERY well put..... 
