news/editorial

9 May 2021 News/Editorial

Are we on the cusp of a repeat of the late spring and summer salmon numbers of 2020? Was last year exceptional, or is this the start of a new trend of really large summer numbers of mainly salmon, not grilse? The joy, and inevitable occasional frustration, of a wholly wild resource is that you never quite know, until it happens (or not). If you want certainty of your audience, go fish in a stocked pond.

So far we have learnt two things. First, that early spring 2021 was no better, probably even worse, than has become the norm since the heydays and high days of the 1930s to 1960s; there has never been a really dominant early (pre 30th April) spring run since 1967, UDN and all that, 54 year ago now. Secondly, that because of the persistent cold in the North Atlantic, in April and early May especially, and our incoming salmon not being blessed with a calendar, it would be unsurprising that they arrive a little late, if temperature is the principal trigger.

Were we to have an angling “anticipation index”, after lurking at pretty low levels for weeks, it would have taken a massive upturn as from Thursday last. The whistle has blown, the ball is on the field, the players are in position, there is all to play for. The beats around Kelso, as ever the best in the spring, have been catching proper numbers for the first time this year.

As for next week, slightly less cold and showery seems to be the form. With low pressure in charge all week, no predictions here of the amount of rain, with showers, thunderstorms and bands of rain about, but how much and where exactly, who knows? The farmers at least will be smiling. For sure, it will not be settled and with an absence, at last, of overnight frosts.

In the drier interludes, the grass may need to be cut properly for the first time this year, extraordinarily late here in mid May, as it makes up for lost time. Properly warm weather is still not forecast until the last week in May. How we will need it by then.

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Bill Quarry, fishing enthusiast extraordinaire and traveller to the furthest corners of this earth in rickety old cars, has been the brains and moving force behind the Salmon Museum in Kelso (link here https://www.visitscotland.com/info/see-do/river-tweed-salmon-fishing-museum-p2470811). It reopens, post Covid, next week on Monday 17th May. The added attraction is that, when you go, you will find one or other of Ronnie Glass, Eoin Fairgrieve, Richard Rogers and Ian Martin there to explain and advise.

It is a great experience, and a tribute to Bill’s drive and commitment in attracting such wonderfully visual and historic exhibits. Go see, as our American friends would say.

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Those braving the conditions yesterday (Saturday) morning would have encountered a strong SE wind, rain flurries and 6c. I tried it in the morning, lasted an hour before retreating to my Aga (what else?). There followed a very jovial lunch (was it legal, can you remember what the rules are?), after which I managed to push up the odd Z.

All was well as I contemplated the rest of the afternoon and evening inside, musing that as the middle of the river is the border, could we have a mid-river socially distanced lunch where how you behaved at one end of the table would be very different to the rules on the other. Pass the salt please, or can I, legally, if it goes over the border? Silly, of course, but if you lived where we are, when for 14 months now the rules at one end of Coldstream bridge have been consistently different to those on the other, you would see what I mean.

Then I noticed that all was calm around 6.30pm, and on venturing outside, the air was different, no longer that biting, acerbic stuff from the Arctic, with the vaguest hint of polar bear. This was balmy, Mediterranean even, soft and welcoming, redolent of olives, not cutting through you like a knife, but friendly and comforting. I will have more of this, I said.

After collecting the 14ft 9” cheapo rod, surprisingly unleaky waders, checking the sinking tip, 20lb nylon and Cascadey type fly (tied by Malcolm, one of many such most welcome Christmas presents), and climbing aboard the 15 year old Citroen, I was up and running, off down to the Learmouth Stream.

Too old for cold, for the first time for weeks I was happy to be there. Indeed, fishing has been remarkably absent from my life of late; I cannot abide those bitter north and east winds. Have you noticed the extraordinary numbers of sand martins this year, buzzing everywhere like bees in a hive, as you fish? I did not hit one, inadvertently, with rod or fly, but neither would have been surprising as they danced across, and sometimes into the water, picking up a welcome meal.

After 45 minutes nothing had happened, and I had seen ne’er a splash, and despite being a deep wade at 1ft 8” on our gauge, I was, though I say it myself, whacking it out like a good ‘un, when there was the faintest suspicion on the far side of the stream. Was it imagination? But no, the line was off in the other direction and something splashy in the surface 40 yards away (yes 40 yards away, oh ye of little faith and none). I hate playing them, as a glass half empty person it can only end badly and I spent the next 5 or so minutes expecting that death knell “ping” as the fly pops out. I could see the fly in the scissors as the dance came to an end, thank heavens for that, as it will be easy to nick out and release.

And so it was, fly out, keep it breathing in the water, say thank you, a quick photo and wish “God speed”. I came home and into a glorious hot bath.

Here is the picture. A little 6lb beauty. He or she? It is not easy to tell in the spring and at that size; my bet was a “she” at the time, but is that a small kipey thing on the lower jaw? Whatever. He/she made my day.

All is well.

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Mary Colwell has kindly sent me a copy of her new book “Beak, Tooth and Claw”, all about living with predators in Britain today. She came for lunch here a couple of times, and Malcolm and Paul gave her the benefit of their advice on the knotty subject of our cormorants and goosanders.

Thank heavens, it is a most learned, reasoned and balanced study of the subject, avoiding the extremes of both “kill everything” hunters and others, and the “never control/kill anything” Chris Packhams of this world.

She was exceptionally brave to step into one of the most controversial environmental/ecological issues of our time; I have not quite finished it yet, but remarkably her book pulls it off, without annoying either one side or the other, with those rarest of commodities, common sense and an ability to see the other side of the story.

There will be a solution, somehow and somewhere, that both sides can just about live with. This book goes a long way to providing an essential understanding. HarperCollins, no less, are the publishers and plenty of availability online. Happy reading.

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Hasta luego.