I had hoped to regale you with a great story of this weeks Salmon fishing trip to the Craigellachie Beat, on the famous river Spey a beautiful section of the river, and better still it is only 20min from my front Door. The Craigellachie beat constitutes one of the lower middle sections of the river, with the beat stretching for over 4 Km/2.8miles and lies about 17miles from the Moray coast, Were the Spey empties its peaty waters in to the Moray firth at the aptly named spey bay.
Fishing once more with Mark a regular fishing buddy, we arrived at the main hut about 8.45am, nestled among some trees on the well groomed and maintained right hand bank of the river. Over looked from behind by the craigellichie hotel and sitting about a half mile above the old cast iron telford bridge that majestily arcs across the deep tea coloured pools of this world famous river. Above on the opposite bank beyond the trees sits the Macallan Distillary, hidden, but making it presents known with the familiar smell of sweet roasted barley mash. The whiskey ladened sent was being carried on a light wind, which thankfully was expected to stay light for the day. To the west above Ben Rhines, wearing its bright white coat of snow much of which and fallen the previous day glowed under the glorious blue sky which wasn’t expected to last the day, as cloud was to roll in Bringing heavy rain and sleet. Ah the joys of spring fishing.
Greeted by Dougie Ross our ghillie for the day, we quickly tackle up slipping into something less comfortable; 3 layers of thermals, woollen jumper, fleece body suit and topped off with a pair of Waders, warm is the aim! With air temperature about 4 degrees and the water not that much better layers is a must. Clad head to toe in goretex and neoprene, you can’t help feeling that you look like some kind of PVC clad fetishist, auditioning for the next 50 Shades film. on top of this you throw on a goretex wading jacket, buff, neoprene gloves, a wooly hat and of course life jacket. Thankfully then the Fishing can commence.
As the only Rods on the Beat to have arrived, we had the choice of pools and on the grilles advice we headed for the top of the beat and the first pools of the day. I elected to fish the Brown Isle the second pool on the beat. Slipping in to the chilled water at the neck of the pool, I wade out through the glassy water that stretches the length of the pools right/south bank wading to thigh depth and start sending lines out in to mid stream using a right hand double spey fishing a brass tube monkey, on a Rio scandi line with Hover sink 1 shooting head. and to be honest I never really enjoy fishing a sinking line be it for Salmon or Trout, but i wanted to get down to the fish. My fly was landing in the boiling water that extended from the mid stream across to the left/north bank and runs the length of the pool till it reaches the riffels and then transitions in to the Garden pool below. Occasional large boulders litter Brown isle generating nice, eddies and greasy water, These I would pay more attention to as I reached them. Then on only my third cast my fly is greeted with a Knoock knock as it drifts across and down. My senses ping the knowledge fish are there wetting my appetite, almost as much as the lung fulls of warm homely shortbread are wetting my appetite, the warm sugary smell drifting on the breeze from the nearby walkers factory. I loose myself in my fishing cast after cast and slowly fish down through the pool with out another touch.
Not another touch was had through the pool, and as the pool draws to its end, the cloud began to roll in. And with the cloud, my day began to descend into a shambles! To be honest by the time the day drew to an end, shambles is as polite a word as I could use! No longer being able to feel my toes, I waddled from the pool feeling really quite frozen! In the fast obscuring sun I gained some warmth, and quickly I began trying to warm my ice like toes. The warm starts to return, the growing warmth brings with it a surging throbbing pain, the Hot aches! An excruciating throbbing pain coursing from toes to shin. Agony! so Dressed like some sort of PVC clad fetishist I begin waddling as though on hot coals, stretching and swearing on the river bank like a deranged mad man, that has soiled himself! I frantically try to get warmth in to feet, whilst fighting the throbbing pain. I must have looked a site, I dearly hope no-one saw me!
Trying to regain my composure I waddle to the garden pool Where Mark is fishing, with Dougie watching. Having now returned empty-handed from attempting to find the missing guests. Mark is quickly shown a different cast to help deal with the high bank that you have to fish from on the Garden pool, and I return to the top of the pool and begin to start fishing again, employing the new learned technique. With the first cast begins the total collapse of my casting, I appear to have become a ham-fisted idiot, with every worsening cast my rage boils at myself. Now cursing and berating myself under my breath, streaming combinations of insults and swears that only real rage brings. Dougie spots my decent into chaos and comes to my aid, his patience and resolve to get me back on track was amazing but it seemed to be a lost cause, as we sort one part of my cast another part dissolved and with it embarrassment and rage fizzled away within me I think we spent an hour beat our heads against the brick…crumbling wall that my cast had descended in to. My right shoulder screamed in pain as did my back, and I am almost sure I could hear my pride in there aswell! I should have walked away and taken a break but I didn’t and really can’t thank Dougie enough for is endless help. Eventually broken dougie calls lunch! And my weary body and patience could get a rest.
Following lunch we began fishing through the pool in front of the main hut, and alas the cast was still a shambles it creaked and fell apart with every second cast and Dougie battled on trying to help even trying me on a larger heavier rod in an attempt to slow me down. But the damage was done to body, confidence and focus, I trough in my hat and called it a day dragged myself from the river dejected by failure, rage and the kicking my pride had taken.
So from the Shambles what can I take? Casting should never be painful! clearly I was using my right shoulder to try to impart power into the cast, a trout habit that is utterly redundant in the spey cast, the over use of my shoulder inflamed old rugby injuries which now inflamed stopped me from moving and turning as I should have, and stiffened up. To compensate for this I seemed to speed up the whole cast which didn’t allow time for a D loop to form and I was in variably on almost every cast pulling my anchor point, these combined and stopped me loading the rod, which in turn ment I had to work harder and apply more power. A vicious circle! Listen to the ghillie! he is truly an invaluable source of knowledge and skills, A good ghillie like Dougie Ross is worth their weight in gold to the fly-fisher and don’t let your pride get the better of you listen to everything and learn! also listen to Ur body if your sore. stop, breath, slow it down and walk away for a minute the river will still be there in 10 minutes time and remember it’s not just about catching a fish drink in where you are Scotland is gorgeous and breath-taking so breath in the location as much as the fishing. Again thank you Dougie for your patience and resolve. I spent saturday on the River Deveron, 300 meters from my front door. No fly on my line but I went through the motions like a novice. Cast after cast sorting out the shamble, hearing and heeding Dougies advice, rebuilding my cast and confidence ready for my next adventure. Knowing that every time every time I go fishing I learn and importantly being open to learning is part of the fun for me.