Blog

Despite sometimes failing to live up to the expectations that have grown through the long winter months, the first day of a new trout season is never short on eager anticipation. After a 2020 season curtailed by lockdowns and as we head towards what is hopefully the end of the pandemic, this year, more than ever, the new season was met with as much keenness as I can ever remember! So much so that work was put on hold and opening day was booked as annual leave.

Arriving at the pastures for about nine-thirty, it was a leisurely start met by the resident Hares and red kites who felt like old friends. The sun shone and a small smattering of Large Dark Olives even brought a few fish to the surface. In past seasons, my opening day MO has always been fish, fish, fish cramming as much as I can into my first full day, but this year I surprised myself. Maybe I’m getting old, but it dawned on me more than ever that it wasn’t just the fishing I’d missed. I sat and watched the smaller birds that sometimes I overlook like the busy little reed buntings in the sparse bank side willows. I inspected the gravels which have once again shifted to slightly new locations. I snapped a few photos of willows bursting into life and I chatted with other members that were equally lucky to be out. Maybe most surprising of all was that I went home a couple of hours earlier than I’d imagined I would. Not through disappointment, dissatisfaction or a frustration at the tangles that being a bit rusty can bring. Not any of that. I went home early because of pure contentment. Opening day is good for the soul!

The snow has finally melted and the river is currently flowing with approximately two metres of additional water on top of the normal summer levels. It never fails to amaze me both the speed and volume of additional water than channels through Wharfedale eventually reaching my ‘home water’ on an all too often basis. The river averages around 20 metres wide with most of it having a leisurely pace of say 6km/hr. I’m no mathematician but by my reckoning, that’s somewhere in the region of 67 cubic metres of water running past any given point every single second. Even if I am still carrying a tad extra ‘Christmas weight’, I ain’t standing up in that lot! That being the case, thoughts turn, as they do every January/February, to the first of our major hatches, Grannom.

Whilst we do have Large Dark Olives, it’s this diminutive little Caddis that gets our trout looking up for the first time each season. For this reason it’s one of our most eagerly awaited events. Their emergence also tends to be incredibly reliably with hatches generally starting around the 7 April, give or take a day or two either way. This then builds with numbers peaking around 20 April. The emergence is triggered by sunlight and so to make the most of potential sport it’s a case of watching the weather forecast and being bank-side reasonably early. Without doubt there is a definite degree of ‘right place, right time’ required however the steadier, slightly deeper water below riffles, where trout have often overwintered, provides a good starting point.

In terms of patterns required, I tend to opt for three; a Resting Adult, a ‘Flutterer’ with slightly scruffier appearance and bigger footprint and an Emerger. Circa three months to go!

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