Winston Churchill called Russia “a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma” and when I think about Harelaw fishery I feel the same way. It’s an interesting fishery. I like the place. It just sometimes baffles and frustrates me. It hasn’t been very kind to me this season. I suppose I could just write it off as the effects of a very unusual run of weather, but still… The club fished there on Saturday. I was glad to see the return of bacon rolls and coffee, when we arrived at the fishery. The conditions looked great. Good high cloud cover, with a gentle easterly breeze. It was a good bit cooler than of late, but was forecast to warm up as the day progressed.
After wiping the bacon grease off my chin, I set out with boat partner Brian Spence, to see what we could do. Might as well start at the top of the wind to see if anything was being blown onto the water to interest the trout. We did. The answer was nothing, zero, nada. We started anyway, both with a dry fly rig. A ginger sedgehog and a black and red Shipman’s buzzer for me; a black fly on point and bob with a neutral density suspender type in the middle for Brian. We drifted slowly, zig-zagging down the bank, keeping to the edge of the weedbeds. A fish came surging up after my sedgehog when I gave it a gentle figure of eight. When the retrieve was paused to get it to eat the fly, it stopped. I moved the fly again. The trout came waking back, right up to the boat. Hmmm.
We continued down our drift. More fish swirled at, splashed at, nudged at, rolled at, but, crucially, didn’t eat the flies. We were drifting down the side of the biggest island when Brian’s line tightened. A fish at last! It had taken the neutral fly in the middle of his cast. We carried on, as before. Interest, but not much else. We drifted into the small enclosed bay behind an old walkway. Lots of fish in here, and obviously feeding. Well, maybe they were feeding, but not on anything we were offering. The only thing that seemed to be available to them were tiny wee scrots. Oh well, let’s see what we can do… Into the river box. A size 20 sparkle gnat caught my eye. Finest tippet material that I had with me and, oh, look, there’s a fish creeping along, right up against the bank. A lucky cast… and bingo! At least the granny was off. Did I have the answer? No, I did not. More of the same formula. Fresh air shots, false rises, swirls. Even jagged a few but no fish in the boat. Getting a little bit irked by now. Drifting down past the island again. Another false rise but it wasn’t. A fish had taken the tiny fly again. Lucky to land it, as the fly fell out in the net.
More nerve shredding attrition. Brian switched to a pulling rig with a white nymph on his top dropper. He covered a splashy rise and suddenly he was playing a fish. It had taken the ghostly offering on his dropper. Another drift down the islands. There did seem to be a concentration of fish there. Brian’s line tightened. A “striped trout”. Didn’t know there were perch in Harelaw. Another followed quickly. Pity the trout weren’t so obliging. Brian got another trout on the ghost nymph. By now, even the swirling and splashing was getting less. Eventually, it was time to pack-in. It had been a grueller for everyone. Several blanks. Kudos to John McGonagle for four fish. Is it just the weather, or does some malign force hold sway at Harelaw? We’ll have to see.
