As the evening arrived it became really quite chilly, at least for June, but still those Mayfly kept popping off. For some reason the fish were not hitting them, so following their lead, I kept my Mayfly box stowed away. But eventually I became curious even if the fish were not, selecting the largest, bushiest Grey Wulff Mayfly I had. Ginking it up and caressing the badger hair horns to sharp tips like a moustachioed bandit I thought, this is pointless. Then, as if on cue, there was all of a sudden, a flurry of hatching Mayfly. Not exactly a full-on hatch, but enough to think mmmmmm……
And then after a few speculative casts I rose a fish that I missed, hooking another shortly after and then another. Just to prove it was the fly not me (ha-ha) I handed the rod to my companion, a keen but less of a headbanging fly fisher than me, and sure enough both the Mayfly and fish obliged for her.
In the space of a few minutes we had had four fish without moving a single yard which was enough to sate our piscatorial desires so we left the fish, river and Mayfly to see out the rest of the fading daylight content with the knowledge that the plan, that was never the plan, had succeeded. |