Nether Wallop Mill, Hampshire, England Thursday July 2nd 2014
Trout only live in beautiful places
I said that once to myself as much as to my guide as we floated
down a Wyoming river, with unspoilt forest, snow peaked mountains and moose for
company. I guess he must have heard me clearly enough because he shot back a
withering glance that said without the trouble of using words: Have you
only just worked that out? Doh! I suspect that by return he must have seen some
expression on my face that bridled at his dismissal of a remark I thought
profound as a little while later between expelling that vile chewing tobacco
beloved of back country guides he relented.
'You are right', he conceded, 'but I prefer what Arnold Gingrich,
an avid angler who also happened to found Esquire magazine said', "A
trout is a moment of beauty known only to those who seek it." That's
fishing guides for you: well read but always putting fishing ahead of founding
an iconic magazine.
The truth is that us fly fishers are lucky people. The kit we use,
the places we go and the prey we seek are all beautiful. We carry those
memories around in our head, but sometimes there are photographers that capture
the essence of what we do reminding us of places we have been and places we
would like to go.
That brings me in a roundabout (yes, you wondered where this
was going ....) way to Flymage. I have been dipping into the stunning
Flymage fly fishing and photography magazine for a few years now. However
until I was asked to write an article for the quarterly publication I had no
idea that it was solely run for pleasure by José Weigand and his friends. Every
issue, like the subject it covers, is a thing of great beauty.
I hope you enjoy its arrival to your Inbox as much as I do. Below
is the article Dry fly
fishing in the footsteps of the father I wrote (p. 45-61) and here
is the link
to the latest edition.
Dry fly fishing in the
footsteps of the father
|
|
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Mottisfont
Abbey - River Test
|
If you are out anytime this season peering into your fly box to
pick a pattern for a fish you have just spotted rising, pause for a moment.
Then cast your eyes up to the heavens to offer a small prayer of thanks to
Frederic Halford for this year is the 100th anniversary of his death and if any
man can claim the mantle 'the father of dry fly fishing', it is Halford.
F M Halford, a successful businessman of the Victorian era,
dedicated his life from middle age to his death at 69 to the pursuit of brown
trout on the chalkstreams of southern England with the dry fly. To say he
invented this style of fishing would be wrong (the Macedonians were doing it
before the birth of Christ) but what he did do was draw together a disparate
variety of practices and beliefs to codify the art of fishing to rising fish
with imitative patterns in his book Floating
Flies and How to Dress Them published in 1886.
Much has been written about Halford's life and fishing practices;
high on the list is his apparent dislike of his contemporary, GEM Skues who
invented nymph fishing. Actually this is probably more legend than fact as the
two met occasionally and there is no record of any rancour. One of those
places they communed was the Oakley Hut on the River Test at Mottisfont Abbey,
where Halford fished for many years and made his last ever cast to a trout. As
a place for fishing it is a remarkable spot; as a reminder of a fly fishing
great it is awe inspiring.
The Oakley Stream, as we call Halford's section of the famous River
Test, is the perfect vision of an English chalkstream, where the reed-thatched
hut he built still stands on the river bank today. The water is clear, fast
flowing without being a torrent. In most sections the depth is no more than
three feet, the river bed lined with bright golden gravel from which grows
rafts of green ranunculus river weed that gently wafts with the flow. If
you have a chance to get into the water run your fingers through the tendrils
of the weed like you might your hair, then open the palm of your hand.
Wriggling in your cupped hand will be a mass of river life. Pale shrimps, light
green olives and tiny snails to name but three. Bend down to turn over any
large stone on the river bed and you will see sedge cases, mayfly nymphs and
bloodworms. It is this super-abundance of entomological life that attracts the
trout and in turn us fly fishermen.
Halford had a particular way of fly fishing; not for him was
speculative casting with a fly that may or may not work. For him it was all
about observation, imitation and execution. Observe a rising fish, identify the
fly it was feeding on, tie on an accurate imitation and then, as my old casting
instructor once told me, make your first cast your best cast. For Halford the
perfect day was to spot four rising fish rising to four different naturals and
catch them on four different patterns. Why four you might ask? Well back then
gentlemen fly fishers were encouraged to catch and kill just four fish each
day; catch and release was frowned upon.
The chalkstreams were then, and are now, particularly suited to
Halford's style of dry fly fishing because there are so many types of hatches
and the fish are prone to being highly selective - that is what makes the
challenge man vs. fish so fascinating. Somehow amongst that array of insects
you have to pick the one the trout wants at any given moment. Some days, like
at the height of the Mayfly
ephemera danica hatch that lasts for three weeks from late May to
early June when the huge duns are gulped down left, right and centre, it is
plainly obvious. But in the fading light of dusk on a sultry summer evening
when a myriad of tiny dark specks litter the surface to match the hatch whilst
the fish feed in a frenzy all about you can be altogether harder.
Those are, of course, the two extremes of the chalkstream dry fly
fishing but the magic of these special rivers is that hatches happen every day
of the year, regardless of the season. I have been out on Christmas Day in the
snow to see wild trout pecking away at a hatch of tiny olives and at the other
end of the scale hidden myself under the shade of a tree away from the blazing
heat of August to watch a big, fat lazy trout suck caddis off the reeds as they
emerge from the water.
It is a remarkable thing that nearly a hundred and fifty years on
since Halford first trod the banks of the River Test his principles still guide
us today. Yes, the tackle has changed but we all still crave that moment when a
fish rises to the fly we have so delicately cast. In that fraction of a
millisecond, hours or days of frustration melt away into joy. It will always be
a magical moment and for that we must thank Frederic Halford.
The full edition of this article with many more
photographs is in the summer
edition of Flymage Fly Fishing and Photography magazine.
Trout only live in beautiful places
I said that once to myself as much as to my guide as we floated
down a Wyoming river, with unspoilt forest, snow peaked mountains and moose for
company. I guess he must have heard me clearly enough because he shot back a
withering glance that said without the trouble of using words: Have you
only just worked that out? Doh! I suspect that by return he must have seen some
expression on my face that bridled at his dismissal of a remark I thought
profound as a little while later between expelling that vile chewing tobacco
beloved of back country guides he relented.
'You are right', he conceded, 'but I prefer what Arnold Gingrich,
an avid angler who also happened to found Esquire magazine said', "A
trout is a moment of beauty known only to those who seek it." That's
fishing guides for you: well read but always putting fishing ahead of founding
an iconic magazine.
The truth is that us fly fishers are lucky people. The kit we use,
the places we go and the prey we seek are all beautiful. We carry those memories
around in our head, but sometimes there are photographers that capture the
essence of what we do reminding us of places we have been and places we would
like to go. That brings me in a roundabout (yes, you wondered where this
was going ....) way to Flymage.
I have been dipping into the stunning Flymage fly fishing and
photography magazinefor a few years now. However until I was asked to write an
article for the quarterly publication I had no idea that it was solely run for
pleasure by José Weigand and his friends. Every issue, like the subject it
covers, is a thing of great beauty. I hope you enjoy its arrival to your Inbox
as much as I do. Below is the article Dry
fly fishing in the footsteps of the father I wrote (p 45-61) and
here is the link
to the latest edition.
Dry fly fishing in the
footsteps
If you are out anytime this season peering into your fly box to
pick a pattern for a fish you have just spotted rising, pause for a moment.
Then cast your eyes up to the heavens to offer a small prayer of thanks to
Frederic Halford for this year is the 100th anniversary of his death and if any
man can claim the mantle 'the father of dry fly fishing', it is Halford.
F M Halford, a successful businessman of the Victorian era,
dedicated his life from middle age to his death at 69 to the pursuit of brown trout
on the chalkstreams of southern England with the dry fly. To say he invented
this style of fishing would be wrong (the Macedonians were doing it long before
the birth of Christ) but what he did do was draw together a disparate variety
of practices and beliefs to codify the art of fishing to rising fish with
imitative patterns in his book Floating
Flies and How to Dress Them published in 1886.
Much has been written about Halford's life and fishing practices;
high on the list is his apparent dislike of his contemporary, GEM Skues who
invented nymph fishing. Actually this is probably more legend than fact as the
two met occasionally and there is no record of any rancour. One of those
places they communed was the Oakley Hut on the River Test at Mottisfont Abbey,
where Halford fished for many years and made his last ever cast to a trout. As
a place for fishing it is a remarkable spot; as a reminder of a fly fishing
great it is awe inspiring.
The Oakley Stream, as we call Halford's section of the famous River
Test, is the perfect vision of an English chalkstream, where the reed-thatched
hut he built still stands on the river bank today. The water is clear, fast
flowing without being a torrent. In most sections the depth is no more than
three feet, the river bed lined with bright golden gravel from which grows
rafts of green ranunculus river weed that gently wafts with the flow. If
you have a chance to get into the water run your fingers through the tendrils
of the weed like you might your hair, then open the palm of your hand.
Wriggling in your cupped hand will be a mass of river life. Pale shrimps, light
green olives and tiny snails to name but three. Bend down to turn over any
large stone on the river bed and you will see sedge cases, mayfly nymphs and
bloodworms. It is this super-abundance of entomological life that attracts the
trout and in turn us fly fishermen.
Halford had a particular way of fly fishing; not for him was
speculative casting with a fly that may or may not work. For him it was all about
observation, imitation and execution. Observe a rising fish, indentify the fly
it was feeding on, tie on an accurate imitation and then, as my old casting
instructor once told me, make your first cast your best cast. For Halford the
perfect day was to spot four rising fish rising to four different naturals and
catch them on four different patterns. Why four you might ask? Well back then
gentlemen fly fishers were encouraged to catch and kill just four fish each
day; catch and release was frowned upon.
The chalkstreams were then, and are now, particularly suited to
Halford's style of dry fly fishing because there are so many types of hatches
and the fish are prone to being highly selective - that is what makes the
challenge man vs. fish so fascinating. Somehow amongst that array of insects
you have to pick the one the trout wants at any given moment. Some days, like
at the height of the Mayfly ephemera danica hatch that lasts for three weeks
from late May to early June when the huge duns are gulped down left, right and
centre, it is plainly obvious. But in the fading light of dusk on a sultry
summer evening when a myriad of tiny dark specks litter the surface to match
the hatch whilst the fish feed in a frenzy all about you can be altogether
harder.
Those are, of course, the two extremes of the chalkstream dry fly
fishing but the magic of these special rivers is that hatches happen every day
of the year, regardless of the season. I have been out on Christmas Day in the
snow to see wild trout pecking away at a hatch of tiny olives and at the other
end of the scale hidden myself under the shade of a tree away from the blazing
heat of August to watch a big, fat lazy trout suck caddis off the reeds as they
emerge from the water.
It is a remarkable thing that nearly a hundred and fifty years on
since Halford first trod the banks of the River Test his principles still guide
us today. Yes, the tackle has changed but we all still crave that moment when a
fish rises to the fly we have so delicately cast. In that fraction of a
millisecond, hours or days of frustration melt away into joy. It will always be
a magical moment and for that we must thank Frederic Halford.
The full edition of this article with many more photographs is in
the summer
edition of Flymage Fly Fishing and Photography magazine.
