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A Fly Fish on the Findhorn Before his Fellow Anglers Arrived Yields First Prize

A 'shaggy dog' story, the author's first fish of the season.

Stuart Younie

We arranged to meet at the hut around 9am but in my eagerness I arrived a bit earlier than agreed. It was about 8.30 by the time I'd tackled up and was sure my father in - law would not object to me having a wee throw in the pool nearest the hut. It's an idyllic dogleg of narrow water, a beautiful spot where the pebbles on the shore fall away into the darkness of a steep shadowed rock shelf on the far side of the river.

I drew some line off the reel and after a few throws exploring the fast water with my 14 footer and a size 10 cascade on the end of a 12lb cast, the fly ended up limping across the slack part of the bend in the river. The water had been low and given the reports and the records in the book, it looked like the chance of a fish was slim. Just as I was taking it all in and thinking about the day aheadmy attention was snapped back to the fly in the water as I felt a gentle tug on the line. Looking to the cast my heart skipped a beat as I saw a potential prize turn its silvery tail to disappear back towards the dark shelf under the far bank.

I am sure there are some of you who understand that feeling, my heart sank thinking I might have missed the only chance of the day so early on, but there was still a taking fish in the lie that had shown interest in a fly and I had better try to tempt it out again! Repeated attempts with the same fly, slow retrieve, fast retrieve, jerky retrieve came to nothing, after three or four casts it was clear the fish was having none of it.

"Show it something different" was a phrase I'd picked up from the articles I'd read and more importantly from riverbank chat. But which fly could I select that would interest the fish again? My pulse was still racing a little faster than normal when I started reeling in and grabbed hold of the leader wafting in the wind funnelling down the river gorge.

I chose one of the simplest of flies in my box (you might work out from the following words which one) and threw it across the pool, bearing in mind the instructions that went with it: "let it settle then strip it back quickly and the fish will follow". So that is what I did with the all-important "confidence"that, according to the wisdom of the Salmon Fishers' Surgery in Trout and Salmon, is "essential to success". Second cast in and I felt a solid pull, I gave the fish a little slack line before lifting into it and it was on!

I tangled with the prize for a good enough time and every second was a thrill that remains a challenge to put it into words. There is a cyclic connection between life and sacrifice with the King of Fish epitomised by the struggle between that fish and I, salmon are indeed majestic and mysterious creatures. In the absence of a net I managed to bring the fish to the shore with care and keeping it in the water as best I could set about removing the fly.

It was a beauty of about 8 lb, fresh from the sea and shining silver. Let's put this lucky encounter in context, I was very fortunate that day, low water, few fish in the book but fair weather and an opportunity to spend some time on the Findhorn which is in itself a rich prize indeed. Perhaps there was some luck involved and I hope a little skill passed on to me from far more experienced fishers either way that fish was a very special one for me.

Some might argue it's a difficult decision salmon fishers have whether to kill a fish, even if our permit decrees a certain policy, salmon can be a hard won prize but an honest fisher is one who knows when the prize should be returned. There are few things finer than the taste of wild salmon but that taste is something to be savoured with great respect. Some times the only choice to ensure we can enjoy our fishing in the future is to put our fish back, which I did.

In the course of writing this ramble I have had the good fortune to watch a nature programme about hump-backed whales. In catching fish they employ a tactic called "bubble netting" where whale friends work in teams to shoal fish by blowing bubbles with the objective of herding them into the waiting mouth of one of their party posted near the surface. If only salmon fishing was that simple!

Tight lines!