30 May 2021 News/Editorial
With the start of last week blighted by strong winds, downpours and rising, dirty waters, the catches score for the week at around 100 was not bad, albeit, unsurprisingly, with a number of no consequence caught below Coldstream.
The forecast has lurched from cold and wet to warm, calm, dry and sunny, no significant rain, bar some showers, in the immediate future. It could become cooler towards the end of the week. All of which could make things pretty testing for successful salmon fishing. Initially, with enough water, at the start of next week it could be ok, if perhaps both before 11.30am and after 7pm. As levels drop, the best bets could lie below Kelso, even right down to the tide.
Summer has arrived with a jolt; fishermen will not want it to go on for too long. As the summer salmon arrive, they seem content to hang around in the lower reaches when temperatures rise; this in stark contrast to their spring cousins, who even in the coldest water, seem intent on legging it to all points Galashiels and beyond.
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As the end of May approaches, the Tweed is an outlier amongst its peers in counting spring catches to the end of June. When there were very few June fish, this was justified on the basis that most of those caught in the first half of the month were springers, after that mainly summer fish, but few of them. Surely now that has to change? With a significant increase in summer fish, are we not fooling ourselves that the spring is better than/not as bad as it really is, by wilfully including so many summer fish?
The end of May would provide a better test of each year’s run. On that basis, spring 2021 has been distinctly average to poor. A quick tot-up indicates something like 1,000 salmon have been caught, the Junction, as usual, being the spring bees’ knees with just over 100. In 2020, Tillmouth caught 85 with restricted fishing in the last 2 weeks of May, but only 22 in the whole month in 2021, a very clear demonstration of relative abundance between the two years.
I hear the Tyne has been poor, and none of the other Scottish rivers, with exception of the Spey, are exactly kicking it out of the park. My old friend Nigel Houldsworth, semi permanent resident at Rothes, tells me there are plenty of fish, if not yet easy to catch because of the persistent rain and unsettled water. That could change now as the weather improves; they are expecting big things.
Anticipation is gathering here too. Now that the main Tweed run happens between 1st June and 31st August, there is all to play for, so long as the sun keeps its hat on and does not (too often) come out to play.
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We have returned from the deep south, despite a broken front spring and the consequent prolonged abuse of friend and family hospitality. Our mechanic told us car springs break all the time now because they have to be made of recyclable material, rather than good old “never breaking” iron/steel. You would have thought that when it comes to travelling at 70mph, we should have springs that will not break, as a priority. It seems our safety has been sacrificed to the Greater God of saving the environment.
The Test was a joy, as ever, despite some monsoonal weather. Mayfly were few, but in a way the trout easier to catch because, with little natural competition, if they saw your imitation, greed got the better of them. Linhay Meads has masses of fishing, both on the main river and numerous carriers. The tiny middle carrier is fertile ground for wild brownies (basically anything under 2lbs, as they only stock from 2lbs upwards) and I caught several between 1/2lb and 1 1/2 lbs, the latter fighting like a tiger as it tried to get into an overhanging bush. Later, I ventured into another carrier, near the house (the “Privater Water”, by invitation only) where some speculative casting tempted a 3 lber to make a mistake.
I loved it all, of course everything caught went back, but it is so different to salmon fishing on a big river like the Tweed. Contemplation, as opposed to fishing effort (“flogging away”), is the key on those chalk streams, and the ratio of casts to successes can be surprisingly high.
Even for a duffer, like yours truly.
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A propos of nothing in particular, our elongated southern sojourn was alleviated by “The Very Best of PG Wodehouse on Sport”, edited by Richard Kelly with a Foreword by Henry Blofeld.
Short stories, mainly on cricket or golf, are punctuated with such gems as:
“After all” said the young man ”golf is only a game.” He spoke bitterly with the air of one who has been following a train of thought. The Oldest Member, nodding in his armchair, stiffened with horror, and glanced quickly over his shoulder to make sure none of the waiters had heard these terrible words. He said reproachfully, “My boy, you are not yourself.”
And:
“Well, anyway bowls was good enough for Drake. He was playing bowls on Plymouth Hoe when they told him the Armada was in sight. “There is time to finish the game”, said Drake. That’s what he thought of bowls.” “If he had been a golfer “said the Oldest Member, “he would have ignored the Armada altogether.”
Wodehouse divides opinion, some love him, others do not. Rather like those “Carry On…” films, I find that 20 minutes or so is delightful, but much more and the novelty wanes.
He had an especially good repertoire on the serially murdering Borgia family, my favourites:
“He looked haggard and careworn, like a Borgia who has suddenly remembered that he has forgotten to shove cyanide in the consommĂ©, and the dinner-gong due any moment.”
Or;
“A roll and butter and a small coffee seemed the only things on the list that hadn't been specially prepared by the nastier-minded members of the Borgia family for people they had a particular grudge against, so I chose them.”
Enough!
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