The hottest summer on record has now officially ended and there is little doubt we are in autumn. Driving over the Lammermuirs from Gifford the temperature was still in single figures (7.5 C, Ed.) and there was a distinct morning mist. I’m not sure whether the Watch has its own micro-climate or micro-season. However, as I stepped out the car there was a distinct coolness in the air and I had an immediate sense of mild regret for not packing the thermals – rookie error and not my only one for our outing. Regulars reckoned that the reservoir is at historically low levels, Rumours are that the issues are due to leaks.
Last season I can remember a grand day out fishing dries and had foolishly decided that was going to be my approach for the day. Five-weight and dries: black CDC, sedge, bibio hopper – what’s not to like, and the cast worked well a year ago – rookie error number 2? I was fishing with Bob Whyte and suspected that he might be joining me on the dries, but he at least had the sense to set-up two rods.
We had 6 boats booked for the day (the only ones out) and we could spread-out over the water and still have plenty water to target. I can’t help notice that most people had set-up a washing line on a variety of mini-tips and there was even a few tying on some traditional patterns – clan chief was being employed again on Dougie Skedd’s leader. I think my eyes may have been playing tricks but it looked like a blob dangling from the top dropper of Colin Riach’s cast. (It was a wee hot orange mini-cat, Ed.)
I was already having second thoughts about the dries, right enough. The south-easterly wind was biting, but perfectly manageable first thing, so Bob and I decided to head up to the top of the wind and get a long drift back down towards the dam. There was little evidence of moving fish, no obvious hatches of flies or terrestrials. The overhanging vegetation and bushes were now a decent pitching wedge from the waters edge. The water was a bit turbid – not its normal peaty self. (That was my thinking behind the hot orange mini-cat – not that it did a damned thing! Ed.) We had a long, fruitless drift. We were optimistically expecting a bit of sport, trying to convince ourselves the fish would come blind. It became fairly apparent dries were not going to be the answer. Bob did the smart thing and switched to his other rod, which had a couple of lures on an intermediate.
We could by now see most rods pulling and the odd fish being netted. Dougie had a couple in quick succession to the Clan Chief. We could see him hanging the flies to good effect, and Mel Mitchell also netted an early fish. It was encouraging to see the number of bank anglers making an appearance. We counted 14 at one stage, and it did not have too much impact on our fishing. However, the fish as you would expect at this time of year were mostly concentrated in the shallower water.
Bob finally started to get a bit action to a black leech type pattern that was getting a bit of interest. His first proper hook-up resulted in a smash take as his line got caught round his reel. This then kick-started a run of real bad luck for Bob, with several fish across the day inexplicably dropping off at the net. I had to bite the bullet and set-up another rod and a more experimental approach – silver daddy booby, Kate McLaren hopper and clan chief. Bob was still dominating the fish and deservedly started to get a few to the net, including the odd perch, with black being the stand-out colour. I think you can guess that I quickly changed: black booby, claret dabbler, and biscuit blob. This changed my fortune. The fish were generally in good quality. The best fish of the day was an impressive brown trout we reckon to be in the 6-8lb range, which took the claret dabbler.
John McGonagle and David Hannaford were both having a good day – John is in a rich vein of form right now. Colin managed a couple to the intermediate (one black one, one white one, Ed.) and then another to dries (a big grunter! Ed.) which was impressive in the conditions… which were a challenge over the session. A few heavy downpours acted to cool temperatures even further, though they did help to kill the wind.
(The temperature on the way back was 8 C, Ed.)
Overall, our 11 rods totalled 30 fish which was pretty good, given the conditions.
The editor adds…
I wasn’t the last to come away, so I don’t know if anyone behind me met what I did on the windy, narrow, steep, single track road coming down from the reservoir. Let me know if you did.
I was at a bit that was the last place you would want to meet someone coming the other way. And I met someone. Boy, did I meet someone! It was a massive great tanker. I have no idea if it was going up to the farm or the waterworks, but why it should be going up there at 5:30 p.m. on a Saturday evening beats me. I had no idea where the last passing place behind me was, and I am rubbish at reversing the Yeti more than a few yards, anyway. My tactic when the same thing happens with the the bin lorry on the road to Loch Hope is to drive off the road onto the moor. But this time I had a wall at my side. I could see a wee break with hopefully enough space and I squeezed into it, going as far off road as I could. The tanker attempted to get past. I could see in my door mirror he had about 2 inches clearance. But then he went into a phase of stopping – lots of air-brakes and hydraulics and huffing and puffing… forwards a foot, backwards a foot, forwards a foot. I don’t know if he was looking in his wing mirror and seeing that he was in danger of catching me, or if he was having trouble with his gears. No way I could get out at this stage to see what was going on. I was just waiting for the crunch of him scraping along my side. After what seemed like an age he got past. I then had to get back onto the track from my alcove. Phew!
