Taking to the water in a really lovely spot. Idyllic, is I think the word.
Just a quick jaunt this one, being a two day assault
on the Grayling of Sweden. After all, during the ice fishing trip when Lars-Goran kept
rolling out the tales of just how many Grayling they can catch up in their parts during
the summer months... and then followed it up with an invite to visit and try for them when
the ice had gone, it was obviously rude to say no. Of course, such a glowing
recommendation was bound to crash and burn, wasn't it?
Johnny and I met up with
Lars-Goran up in Ostersund, and we made
our way down to his house, which in itself was set in such a beautiful spot, right on the
edge of a crystal clear lake.
What a place to live- well, at least in summer when you
don't have to dig your way out of the front door.
We went to fish at the edge of the lake,
and after a little fluff-chucking from the jetty, I managed to spawn a double header with
a small Grayling on each dropper in one cast. Unfortunately though, these were the only
couple of fish we encountered during our evening there- and this was to set the pattern
for our trip, with everywhere we fished being strangely devoid of rising fish- and these
are places which usually have thousands of the things breaking the surface during the
evening. Very strange.
Still, we tried a multitude of places, most of them
stunning clear mountain rivers, and it seemed so strange to be preparing to head off on a
fishing session at 10pm... and then returning back to the caravan in Lars-Goran's yard at
2am and it still hadn't been dark. Spooky. Talk about mess up your body-clock.
Yours truly managed a spot of
beginner's luck during an evening session when a suicidal Grayling took a wet fly as I
waded about in a lovely river there, and I was very pleased with it, since it was my first
good sized Grayling, and it was taken on a fly. It has to be said that it put up a really
spirited fight in the racy current too. But unfortunately the others all blanked for some
reason. Anders and his wife had joined us for the session, and he commented that it was
the first time he had EVER had a blank session on this particular stretch of river, and
trust me when I say that he is very much an expert at this kind of fishing. His
fly-casting technique has to be seen to be believed- not just in terms of distance and
accuracy, but also the smooth, fluid and easy manner in which every cast was made. It
certainly made this amateur fluff-chucker feel entirely inadequate.
The following day- after
mediating during the Euro 2004 match between Sweden and Denmark that night, Anders took
Johnny and I to another favourite spot of his, and as we took to the water by boat it
really looked something special. But again the fish-gods refused to smile upon us, as we
spent hours drifting down the river waiting for the breeze to drop and the rise to
begin... Which it never did!
We tried wet fly, dry fly, fly-spoons and tiny Mepps spinners, but all to no
avail, but for a brief window the breeze died away to nothing, a Grayling popped it's lips
above the surface for a second, and Anders had a fly on the exact spot in a flash. The
fish slurped in the imitation immediately and our only fish of the day came splashing to
the boat- a real eye-opener for me, to see just how it really should be done.
So not the most
productive trip in terms of fish caught, but it was good to see friends again and enjoy
the kindness and hospitality of Lars-Goran and his wife Bitte, and spend some time in some
really pretty countryside.
I suppose that's why its
called 'fishing' and not 'catching'.
A clearly defined rainbow across the lake.
for an afternoon session
on the river.
Just showing off now- with one fish on each dropper. You've either got it or you
view from the boathouse.
The locals showed us how it was done- although the geezer on the right looks none
too impressed.... "Oh no.... he's not showing that bloody fish off again is