It’s Easter Monday. I fancy going fishing but I can’t decide where. I potter around in my office and finish writing a seminar I’m giving later in the week, but all the while my mind is weighing up the options. It really boils down to a choice between one of the more presentable local carp puddles and the trout reservoirs of the Washburn valley. As I finish my work, the mist and low cloud has burnt off and a light south westerly breeze is shivering the blossom on the cherry tree in my neighbour’s garden. In these conditions the wild, open vistas of the Washburn valley hold more appeal than the crowded platforms of a commercial carp water. I dig out my trout gear, throw it in the car and head for the hills. I cross the Wharfe at Pool, take a left turn and head upstream to the confluence with the Washburn. The road crosses the little river, climbs the northern slope of Wharfedale and drops back over its furrowed brow into the Washburn valley. The warm sun has brought a vibrant green to the pastureland, and the woodland bordering Lindley reservoir, the lowest of the four great expanses of water in the valley, is shimmering with the pale green of its new growth. The road crosses the head of the reservoir and climbs again until it crests the brow of a broad ridge revealing distant views of two more reservoirs and the looming expanse of Blubberhouses moor. Another left turn leads back down into the valley and I skirt Swinsty reservoir to cross the dam of Fewston. The car parks are all full and the paths around the reservoirs are teeming with walkers enjoying the warm spring sunshine. I squeeze my car into a gap, pay my day ticket fee (unfortunately the ticket machine is broken so I have to pay cash, which means no fish and chips on the way home) and head back across the dam to the east bank of Fewston. I pause on the dam and scan the banks. There are about half a dozen anglers on the west bank and no-one on the east, which means I’ll have a couple of miles of bank to myself. I’ve seen a couple of trout feeding in very shallow water as I cross the dam so I decide to start in a shallow bay that borders the dam wall. The marginal weed is just starting to grow so it should give me some cover and also define a patrol route for the trout. I set up with a floating line, with a 5ft tapered clear poly-leader and about 8ft of 6lb fluorocarbon. My point fly is a size 14 pearly pheasant tail and I tie a size 14 Diawl Bach on the dropper about 4ft up from the point. I creep up to the water’s edge and make my first cast from a kneeling position, dropping the flies just out from the weeds. The breeze is blowing straight into my face, which means that the flies won’t drift round on their own and I have to make a very slow retrieve. I continue to cast and retrieve, gradually working my way out into the water until I’m standing knee deep at the edge of the weed bed. I can now command most of the bay, dropping my flies up against the dam wall to my left and being able to retrieve along the weed line to my right. The odd fish is topping, but I get no interest in my flies. I try a change to small black buzzers, but there’s still no interest. The breeze is now getting up and the turbulence from the dam causes it to swirl randomly, making casting and presentation even more difficult. I’m just about to move when I spot a bright orange shape moving towards me along the edge of the weeds. As it approaches I’m gobsmacked to see that it’s a beautiful koi carp of about 8lb. Remember that this is a cold, peaty upland reservoir – not an ideal environment for a big goldfish! I remain still as the fish roots around in the disturbed mud at my feet before moving off towards the dam. I’ve caught chub and perch here before now and it looks like I can look forward to the prospect of a carp or two as well now!
I walk up the bank away from the dam to where the water is deeper and the breeze is more consistent. Away from the influence of the dam it’s also blowing along the bank from left to right which will make presentation a lot better. A few casts later and with 2 point flies lost, I’m forced to rethink my tactics. The bottom here is rocky and the point fly is catching on the bottom at the end of the drift. One option is to speed up my retrieve, but I don’t feel comfortable doing this in the cold water conditions. I root around in my bag and find a ‘fish-pimp’ indicator. I don’t need to buy these as they have a tendency to come off if not correctly attached and so the down-wind end of any commercial trout fishery gives a rich harvest of them. I picked this one up at Press Manor last year. The fish pimp is a bullet shaped piece of fluorescent polystyrene with a slot in it for the leader. It’s simply slotted on to the leader at the required depth and secured with a piece of silicone tubing. I attach the indicator to my leader and I’m ready for a bit of float fishing! The beauty of this set up is that you get very accurate control of the depth of the fly, so you can just trip the bottom without risk of snagging. Before I cast, I stop for a bite to eat and to think through my tactics. No fish have topped in front of me, which means either that there are no fish there or, more likely, that they are deeper in the water. I adjust my set up so that the point fly is fishing at about 4ft, with a dropper about 3ft above it. Both flies are size 14 skinny buzzers. As before I’ll start fishing close to the bank and gradually move further out, casting slightly upwind and letting the flies drift slowly round on the breeze. As I move out I’ll increase the depth at which I’m presenting the flies, keeping the point fly just tripping the bottom. Over the next half hour I gradually settle into the rhythm of the method: let the flies drift slowly round, retrieve, roll cast them back into the air, one false cast to get the direction right, then a gentle haul on the line to ensure that the small flies turn over in the breeze. As it’s my first trip of the season, I concentrate on the timing of the cast and each cast takes less effort as the muscle memory clicks back in. It’s a beautiful day and I’m able to relax and take in the view. The hard glitter of the bright spring sun on the rippled water washes out the colours in front of me to almost a monochrome, but over to my right the rich springtime greens of wood and pasture contrast with a perfect blue sky. It’s early in the year for bees, but their buzz is replaced by the hum of conversation from the walkers on the path behind me. The bright spot of the indicator blinks out of my peripheral vision and I pull gently into my first trout of the day. The fight isn’t spectacular and the fish hangs deep, battling doggedly all the way to the net. Its destiny is the bottom of my freezer so I despatch it quickly in the net before unhooking it and storing it in my bass bag. Now I’ve got the method right the fish come steadily; all taken about 15 yards out at a depth of about 8ft. None of them take the dropper so they are obviously hugging the bottom and not moving far to take a fly. As the afternoon draws on the wind rises and becomes more blustery, forcing me to mend the loop of fly line upwind to slow its drift. The action slows so I stop for a cup of tea and something to eat. I relax for a while in the warm spring sun and chat to two other anglers who have come for a look round. The breeze is dying so I take off the indicator and head back towards the dam, where the bottom is less rocky. I search the water in front of me methodically until I find the fish, this time about 20 yards out. The water in front of me shelves less steeply than my previous spot, so they are probably at roughly the same depth.
This is now the type of trout fishing that I love. The breeze drops to a zephyr and the world seems to slow to match the steady rhythm of my figure of eight retrieve. My mind drifts and my subconscious takes over the fishing duties. Every so often I find myself playing a fish, which now fight spectacularly in the shallower water. The intervals between fish get gradually longer, but my feet are cold and I can’t work up the enthusiasm to move again. I finally catch a long, steel-bright over-wintered fish which I release in the shallows, before relaxing on the grass to warm up. The water now has the colour and texture of beaten pewter and the sun is gilding the sky as it sinks towards the western horizon. I enjoy the moment for a long while, before packing up and ambling contentedly back to the car.
The Washburn Valley
Together, Swinsty and Fewston have a total area of about 300 acres and give about five miles of bank fishing. Because of their elevation, fishing can be quite challenging at times and you need to come prepared for wild weather. The fishing is fly only and as well as trout, you can expect to catch the occasional perch and chub. Day tickets are £ 18 with a bag limit of 4 fish and catch and release after that.
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