THE WATER WAS burning my hand and wrist. Had I been blindfolded, I honestly couldn’t have told you if it were hot or cold.
It was time to let her go. I could feel her power returning. With a swipe of the tail she glided into the stream and disappeared. Just in time, as my hand was almost numb. I slouched back on to the grassy bank and reached for the hip flask – the season was up and running.
The challenge and prospect of landing an early-running spring salmon excite and frustrate me like nothing else. But before we go any further, we need to get a couple of things straight. It’s going to be cold and there won’t be many fish about – in fact, unless we catch one, we’re unlikely to even see one. It’s not exactly the kind of pitch to get you clamouring for your waders, is it?
Plenty of anglers will choose to keep their powder dry until the odds improve. They’re not daft – the catch statistics underline the point with brutal simplicity. So why is it that I love the spring so much?
First, this is a special time to be out on the river. It’s felt like a long winter, cooped up and missing the riverbank. It’s great to be back in the fresh air (icy blasts and horizontal sleet aside). It’s also a great opportunity to fish exclusive beats at affordable rates, to soak up their history and learn from the best gillies in the business. But most importantly, there’s just nothing else like catching one of the first springers of the season.
Don’t get me wrong – I like catching fish later in the year, but how can the statistics do justice to the feeling you get from a springer? I can think of several September fish I caught last season. Tinged and colouring, somehow they didn’t warrant a photo. Hard won? Yes. Welcome? Extremely. But a prize comparable with a January or February fish? No. In fact, I’m not sure you could say any number of fish later in the season are equal to one springer. Somehow it’s not the same thing.
The sheer feeling of mission accomplished is why I love the challenge of the early weeks.
Here are my top tips for making the most of this wonderful part of the season…
Be confident!
Conditions are bleak, but so what? Keep your spirits high by trusting your tactics and enjoying the camaraderie of other rods
Legend has it that early-running salmon are ready takers – the trick, apparently, is to persevere, to get your fly in front of one of these elusive beasts. Sounds simple, and when it all comes together, it is – laughably so. But as we know from our fair-weather friends brandishing gloomy catch stats, these charmed moments can be spaced far apart.
I’ve realised over the years that enjoying the first weeks of the season calls for mental resilience. Easier said than done after a winter when anticipation has built and fishing has been booked. In my fireside version (dram in hand) I gloss over the howling winds, horizontal sleet and chunks of grue wafting past. In the booking phase I focus on the airbrushed Disney version – snowdrops and the first glimmers of warmth from the sun.
To fish well in cold conditions, I try to eliminate anything that nibbles away at my confidence. I want to feel convinced I’m fishing as well as I can, and if there is a fish I’m going to catch it… and if I don’t catch it, it’s because I didn’t come across one. That’s the mindset. At the end of a hard day’s fishing, if I feel I’ve covered the water well, I’ve enjoyed my day.
Our first (and I would argue biggest) hurdle is setting realistic expectations. It’s a tricky balance, isn’t it? We should feel excited. We’ve worked hard and earned this trip. But let’s not declare a state of emergency after a few blank days. I’m sure we’ve all been there on Monday morning as Johnny Optimistic swoops out of his 4x4, voice as loud as a motorbike, blasting out the derring-do, before he slumps to a dejected 10am start and long lunch by Wednesday.
Somehow we need to face down the long odds, fish consistently with purpose and a measured confidence. Shake off inevitable blanks and enjoy the evenings with friends. If there is a secret to catching a springer (beyond finding one) I’d suggest it’s something close to the old saying: “Keep your fly in the water and be of good cheer.” Perhaps we might update that: “Fish with purpose, be confident, enjoy yourself and believe a generous dollop of luck will come your way.”
Fish the fly slowly
Jim Coates carefully controls his fly, fishing it slowly over likely lies
At just about any other time I am one to ring the changes if things aren’t happening – ironically, as a way to keep fishing positively. But in early spring, there aren’t enough fish for sensible experimentation.
So in what should we put our faith?
Obviously, in February and March the water is going to be cold or very cold. As such, the salmon’s metabolism will be pretty sluggish. We need to fish the fly slowly.
Before we were blessed with so much fantastic fly tackle, the Devon minnow reigned supreme on many of the larger rivers. I will be trying to fish my fly just like a good old Devon. Slowly controlling each swing, fluttering it over the likely resting places.
Depth-wise I’ll aim for deeper than mid-water, and ideally a foot or so from the bottom (remembering to vary my set-up to maintain this relative depth). This is overwhelmingly the advice that I’ve received from gillies. As far as I’m concerned it’s the best place to start. Put your faith in it.
Set up two rods
Cold weather seriously curbs my enthusiasm for changing fly-lines. Two rods with different set-ups help to avoid the trap of not being bothered to lighten your set-up and cover the softer water carefully – as well as the opposite problem.
Usually the first rod will be equipped with a floating skagit line and tungsten T-tips. This set-up is great for casting heavy flies and covering a wide range of depths.
On my second rod I will fish a sinking shooting head (in my opinion, full sinking spey lines are for masochists). Its sink rate will be dictated by whether I’m fishing from bank or boat. From a boat you can fish a much heavier line because you don’t have the problem of it constantly swinging the fly back into the shallower water in which you are typically wading, where it can snag.
Achieving the right depth and pace of swing with the right line also depends on your casting angle and mending.
Try a floater
Use a floating line and heavy fly in shallow pools
It may appear to fly in the face of what I’ve said about needing to use tungsten tips and sinking lines (“Set up two rods”), and indeed this is a very occasional trick, but if you are fishing a smaller river or a shallower pool a floating line and longer (8ft-12ft) leader with a tungsten tube or other heavy fly can be a neat trick.
By mending you can slow the line down and the longer leader offers very little resistance in the water, allowing a heavy fly to sink effectively. Tailor the length of the leader and the weight of the fly to fish deeper or shallower.
The good news is that as the fly comes into shallower or softer water, you can easily bring it up in the water column by slowly drawing in a little line. This solves the problem of constantly snagging up at the end of each swing.
It works because the line is higher in the water than the fly and any movement pulls it up.
As with trout, this up and away movement can prove a great taking trigger. As with heavy trout nymphs, you can impart a great deal of movement to a tungsten tube with a twitch of the line.
Heavy flies are only lifeless if you fish them that way.
As long as you’re a reasonable caster, most 9-11wt lines will turn the fly over easily enough.
Trust your favourite flies
L-R: Black-and-yellow, Gold-bodied Willie Gunn and Snaelda.
I don’t believe in chopping and changing flies in early spring. I like to stick to a few proven patterns – the ones in which I have real faith. You will have your own. Don’t leave room for doubts to creep in.
Fly size is a tickly point, and I’ve seen fishers tie themselves in knots because the water is cold but perhaps also very clear – another thing to worry about. But don’t overthink things. With fish likely to be thin on the ground and on the move, I like to feel my fly is nice and visible, but not so obvious that there is no need to investigate (just as I do at any other time when I’m hunting fresh running fish). Beyond this I don’t overplay the relationship between size and temperature. I think very big flies became associated with cold water simply because they would have been the primary way of gaining depth (before we had so many great fly-line options).
My thoughts are: give yourself a break and pick a pattern you trust, in a size that shows up well in the water conditions of the day. Let your line choice sort out the depth.
For the record, my early season favourite patterns are:
German Snaelda – A great pattern for
cold water carrying a tinge of colour.
Gold-bodied Willie Gunn – An all-time classic.
Black-and-yellow – My favourite for cold clear water.
Black-and-yellow Monkey – Its long mobile wing tantalises and adds movement even when swinging slowly.
I’m very happy to work with any of these four. Tubes are the best bet in cold water because you’re going to hook the bottom quite often, and with a tube it’s no trouble to pop a fresh hook on if it is blunted or bent. Bring out the doubles in late March and April when you fish a little further away from the stones.
Turn big pools into small pools
Quithel pool at Birse on the Aberdeenshire Dee. Look for running lines and holding lies, and thereby break the pool into manageable parts.
When boats aren’t an option, the lower reaches of Scotland's big East Coast rivers can be intimidating from a wading/bank fishing perspective. Try to chop up pools into manageable chunks in your mind’s eye. I try to pick out pools within 'the pool' (which may be hundreds of yards long) and fish these bits one at a time. Don’t get worked up about the bits that you either can’t cover or, if you can, are unable to control the fly properly over them. Early running salmon will be making stately progress upstream and, as we said earlier, their metabolism won’t be at full tilt, so they will pause frequently, albeit perhaps very briefly. Make sure you cover the softer margins.
Find the softer water and fish on to the dangle
One of the mistakes of my early salmon-fishing life was to seek out and plumb the deepest parts of pools. I’ve now learned to remind myself that in cold water, salmon don’t need to work hard to comfortably work their gills. Softer flows where little energy is required to hold station are often among the best early-season taking places. So look for the quieter pockets of water just off the main currents.
This means it makes sense to swing your fly as far round to the dangle as you can. This will often be the right sort of water for early-running fish to shelter momentarily.
Look for the creases of softer water just off the main streams, and don’t dismiss 3½ft-4ft of depth as too little. I know that many Dee gillies would happily trade some depth for a slow swing: “Right on to the dangle, and don’t be in a hurry to cast it back… fish it right out.”
Looking back I feel I would have caught more fish if I’d concentrated in these areas, as I do now.
Don’t rule out the dark side!
Explore a beat’s hard-to-reach places by spinning. Rapalas, Vision 110s and Tobys are proven lures.
It’s not everyone’s cup of tea, but spinning is a good option in high cold water. If you’re allowed it’s often a good idea to fish your allotted water with the fly, perhaps with different set-ups, and then, if you fancy a change (and other members of the party are of the same mind), spin down the pool.
There’s no doubt that there are pools where you will be covering new water in this way, particularly on the Tay. Spinning a pool intelligently will help you to locate the pockets of softer water, the big boulders and other features, thereby building a more complete picture of your beat.