Keith McDonnell of Impression Fly Fishing shared his newest weblog submit with us:
Inexperienced fields rolled previous the automobile window with a blur of damaged cloud and bursts of daylight. Inside, this fish crazed angler gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white. Mayfly season was kicking off. The holy grail of Irish trout fishing.
My coronary heart thumped in anticipation, a counterpoint to the rhythmic hum of the tires. It had been an extended, moist winter and spring, and a river that final 12 months yielded a fish over 6lbs for me, had turn out to be an obsession.
Many nights have been spent tying lovely mayfly imitations – spent gnats, duns and emergers.
Reaching the river, the air buzzed with anticipation. The water was very low and clear, a mirror reflecting the cotton-ball clouds. The airflow was easterly, not excellent. No mayflies but.
I walked the fields scanning for fly and the rings of the rise, my boots sinking into the marsh with a satisfying squelch. Each step was a silent prayer that circumstances, fly and fish would all converge to offer a chance to solid on the massive fish I’d dreamt of all winter. Time stretched, I stood hiding behind a tree and measured it by the lengthening of my shadow because the solar slowly went down and off the water.
Watching the night develop it cleared my thoughts of all the pieces aside from the prospect of a big rising trout. Cellphone calls to my two pals on different stretches have been frequent to debate how the night was creating and making an attempt to reassure myself that the useless low water and easterly breeze wouldn’t matter.
Then, a flicker. A single black and white Mayfly, started to bop and watch for a mate, Slowly, the air got here alive with dancing Mayflies gliding on the breeze so far as the attention might see. I resisted placing on a jacket. The river’s floor dimpled with rising roach who struggled to take the massive flies from the floor.
One rise kind was completely different although. A leviathan, broke the floor with a grasping slurp. It was clumsy, like he didn’t actually know what he was doing and his physique a mottled bronze in opposition to the sun-dappled water despatched rings lapping up in opposition to the banks….
I used to be all of a sudden in stealth mode, staying effectively again from the river, I snuck into place and kneeled down behind tall grass.
I waited, the fish started cruising and took three pure flies rapidly in succession below a tree. I moved above the tree and selected what seemed to be the very best alternative.
A passable solid landed softly and the para-glider mayfly above and to the correct of the swirl. Generally you understand when you have got performed all the pieces proper and a response from the fish is a given.
The take was instantaneous, the heavy weight of the trout pulled the rod into an ideal arc. The massive trout sat below the rod tip and held deep….
Learn the way that battle unfolds at https://streamerfishing.com/the-ephemeral-dance-the-triumphs-and-tribulations-of-mayfly-fishing/Â
