Day One
I can hardly believe that I'm saying this on the diaries but the weather has been wonderful and before driving up to Speyside for our second Tulchan Estate three day fishing trip, we were actually wanting to see some rain to liven up the resident fish if not bring some new fish into the river.
A call earlier in the week with top ghillie Rob Mitchell confirmed that there had been no rain for over two weeks and the smallest versions of the usual patterns (Silver Stoat, Monro Killer and Ally Shrimp) were the order of the day on size 10 or even 12 doubles. We'd relieved John Norris of nearly their whole stock of "Wee doubles" on the way up only to arrive Sunday night to find the river now two feet up on summer levels and still rising...
Fearing the worst outcome, after a six hour drive to a rained off river, we nervously arrive at the famous Tulchan hut to find Rob smiling widely and saying that although carrying some colour conditions were actually sock on. I must admit I was a bit sceptical thinking that Wednesday or maybe Tuesday at a push could deliver results but Rob knows his onions and after agreeing that we would fish like loons till dark every day my 14ft 9wt Hardy Uniqua (the crappest rod ever made by Hardy say the blogs...) is matched with a sea fly reel (Gold Cup) I bought in the States a few years ago loaded with a Rio Speymaster 9/10 to work the stiff rod to it's potential. The line is fluoro orange which again the blogs say won't work but, with my level of casting, success will always have to be down to bit of river guile rather than Scott Mackenzie casting and delicate presentation.
So we're off and perhaps more full of enthusiasm than expectation of catching I'm working a big Ally's Shrimp through Head of Wood and Tail of Wood which is racing through. To be fair, my inability to cast over half way is probably a good thing, as I would guess the fish are either running or lying in the inside line, rather than trying to battle a heavy mid-water current. As usual, team orders are to throw the kitchen sink at the river effort-wise to make up for our inexperience and to try to get value for money - no matter how you look at it, it's not cheap putting a line into an iconic Scottish Salmon beat.
The rod reel line combo is actually working really well and a move up to a 9/10 wt line rather than a 9 wt has made a huge difference to both the feel of the rod and the range of cast without having to continually fight the set-up. A big thanks to big Vic Knight (vicknight@blueyonder) the master fly casting instructor of the Midlands for that. Sadly, the odds were stacked against him and in reality he had no chance of fixing my awful casting in a day but at least did sort me out with a line that actually matched my rod - top man....
Nothing at all by 12.00 and I've only seen one fish. I move up to my favourite pool, Boat Pool, to try something new prior to lunch but changes to both fly and leader (10ft medium sink polyleader) don't produce anything and casting a long poly-leader is proving clumsy even on my better balanced set-up. After psyching myself up for one last run through the best bit at 1pm, I switch to a 5 ft fast sink leader to at least make the casting pleasurable and try to compensate (in terms of fishing depth of fly) by putting on a Cone Head Silver Stoats Tail variant.
The short leader make a huge difference and the first cast sails out 75 ft and the leader straightens out perfectly with the fly swimming on landing. It moves round 30 degrees and there's a very gentle jolt before the reel set on a very slack drag starts to give line. A slow lift and I'm into a fish in the same pool that produced my PB sea trout last year. It's a steady rather than spectacular fight but netting my first salmon on my own is a rather tense experience before a relatively fresh hen fish of about 8 lbs is in the net. Whilst I normally put all fish save stocked rainbows back it's a great smoking size and I'm sorely tempted to do the cavemen hunter gatherer bit and administer the last rites but the Tulchan rules save her with all hen fish (rightly) to be returned. Spot the deliberate camera taking technique mistake (!) below and probably more importantly from a fishing perspective the tea coloured water...
Thankfully, I took the polished shots above because the boys refused to believe that I'd nicked one out just before lunch at the hut/palace (if you're from peasant stock like me). Rob is pleased as it's been tough with the low river and despite the big pep talk I suspect deep down thought Wednesday was a better bet than Monday. It's worth noting that I went through the pool with four different flies before getting a take - I suppose the question to ponder is was it the fly change or slight depth change from 5ft from 10ft polyleader that produced? All I know is that this is now the set-up for the next 3 days.
It's a pretty quiet afternoon but my confidence is up and I just get a feeling when working through Tail of Wood that something is about to happen. And so began one of those all too rare red letter few hours of fishing....
5.25pm - subtle take on the inside line but a surging first run. It takes 25 minutes to land a more coloured male fish which battles all the way to the net and is probably 10-11 lbs. The atmospheric pressure has changed and it feels just right somehow.
7-8.30pm - Dinner at the pub and quite a bit of gentle ribbing - the two other boys are pull-less.
9pm - a big brownie of at least 2 lbs hammers the cone head in the Hut Pool.
9.15pm - next cast another brownie of a similar size does the same.
9.45pm - after walking back up the pool and working my way down, another more subtle take in exactly the same spot but this time it's not a brown trout. The fight is again of epic proportions with long surging runs across the deep pool and it's a full 20 minutes before my third salmon of the day is in the net. Three salmon in one day!!!! You could knock me down with a feather - I'd ever only caught six in the UK before and two of those were at Tulchan last year.
10.00pm - After sorting out the return of the fish I don't bother to walk back top the top of the run and a final cast before packing up in the near dark goes out pretty well for a man with shoulders that feel like a busy hod carriers'. I'm texting Mrs Fish one handed on my phone when I can scarcely believe my eyes - the fluoro orange (fish scarer) line is moving steadily off the big sea reel spool again. It's a real tough more heavy fight this time with the fish using the strong current and diving into the deeper holes in the pool. It's a slightly shorter fight in terms of time though as my red letter day encourages me to fight the fish harder before the net goes under a heavier looking fish. It's 13 lbs and a new PB by 2 lbs. Who needs Russian salmon fishing - one of the most memorable day's fishing ever in a truly stunning setting.
For those who fish Tulchan, or who want to, the gauge was 2ft over summer level at the start of the day falling to 1ft over by the end of fishing whilst air pressure rose from 1016 HPa to 1023 HPa over the day.
Day Two
The boys have caught nothing (not even a Parr) despite using the same sink tips, so the breakfast chat is that it must be the fly. As good long standing mates, they obviously totally refute any suggestion whatsoever that I may be getting quite good at this, or even that my efforts could be marginally better focused than their admittedly more beautiful casting. It's luck or the fly, nothing else....
I'm a bit slower off the blocks after 12 hours of casting on day one and meander down to Tail of Wood to try the new super fly in the water which looked great yesterday but did not produce in this run. The 30lber on the wall of the hut came from Tail of Wood and I'm starting to think that this could be my one big chance to nail a real biggie in the UK. The water has held at 1ft over as has the air pressure. Many more fish are showing today.
I feel the casting needs to be a little further today with less mid-water flow so I try to really take my time to get the full Spey line out straight in those spots which look the part. I'm less fussy in the other areas but once I'm into an "Oily" water section I try to slow it down a touch. There's nothing doing until I start casting down towards a massive boulder in the river. First three casts nothing but it looks too good to be fished through. Fourth cast and four feet of line shoots out and I strike like I'm trying to hit the fastest of Crucian Carp bites. The one big no no of salmon fishing as I understand it and I bump the fish. I hope Hugh Falkus wasn't watching upstairs or there would have been a fair bit of tut tutting.
Four fish the day before does soften the disappointment (slightly) but I'm guessing these conditions are all too rare so I don't move a muscle and start working the line out as carefully as I can, longer and longer until the final sweep and dangle is just my side of the boulder. Five full casts and a big fish rolls on the surface mid river upstream of my position.
One more cast then before shifting 20 yards upstream and working down to the other fish. This time I decide to give it 2-3 more yards to fish just past the rock and two thirds the way round a more gentle knock is felt on my index finger pad before the line starts to steadily leave the spool. Second chance and there's no strike, just a steady lift into a really heavy feeling fish. The first runs are quite short at 10-15 yards but very hairy, being towards the big boulder, before a fast 30 yard boring run up into the current helpfully gets the fish above me and I can tire it out in the heavy flow. The polaroids give an early indication that I'm not in the league of the hut monster but I know it's going to be my biggest salmon by some distance.
Only one small problem, Rob is miles away at the top of the beat, the banks are steep with no place to beach the fish and there is no net; so I'm going to have to tail my first ever salmon waist deep in fast flowing water while also knowing full well it's my biggest ever. My heart is racing as I bodge the first two attempts with the fish going crazy when I touch it. A serious talking to myself and after five more minutes of playing it further out a grizzly bear like lunge gets my free hand on the tail. Woohoo!
Rob responds to the phone call for a photo call and a chunky 16 lbs hen fish is my new PB by quite some distance!
I spend the afternoon trying to snare a daytime sea trout on the spiders and land one of 3lbs and lose another with a second stupid Billy the Kid style strike. After a lunch when the long debated question is how my crap casting must be swimming the fly deeper (Cheers boys!), they take off to the tackle shop to buy exactly the same fly!!
Thankfully Damian catches a grilse that very afternoon (later to our embarrassment identified as a sea trout) and then he's into something proper. A long 30mins plus fight in strong water in the hut pool delivers a cracking fish of 15-16 lbs netted by yours truly. It's a belting fish to go with the "Grilse"- both caught on Silver Stoat Cone Heads butchered with scissors/tweezers to become direct copies of mine.
Poor old Allan is still hammering away though, with not one pull despite casting exquisitely and undoubtedly covering the most water of all of us. His copy of the super fly has not delivered and is swapped for a Red Frances in desperation at twilight as the two other team members have a drink and shout encouragement/boo from the hut, as he manfully keeps on trucking into near darkness. Fair play to Mr Wilson, he's followed team orders to a tee and kept going. A missed take almost causes a fatal (for the) rod throwing incident but 2-3 casts later a nice 8-9 lb fish takes the Red Frances and it's back to the hut for tea and medals with us all now in the money.
Day Three
Whilst we're all running out of casting gas, it's a short day today as we have to drive back to the respective families in the North West. There's deer (Fallow I think but forgive me Bill Odie/John Craven if they were actually Zebra!) everywhere in the morning and we make the drive down to the hut and pick which beats to focus on.
I'm totally goosed and while the boys being renewed by yesterday's catches jog to the most productive pools, I try out a rod which Rob is interested in selling. After being told it's the easiest rod to cast that he's literally ever used in being a ghillie for nigh on 500 years, a swing of the hands and a snappy shoulder roll spey casts a Monroe Killer effortlessly 35-40 yards which practically fishes the biggest pool of Beat D in a single cast. After 5-6 more mammoth casts, the rod is passed to your truly to really put it through it's paces. Now, if you've read other salmon pages in the diaries previously you'll know that Scott Mackenzie I am not but the rod feels great as I lift, form a huge D-loop and bam out she goes....
Rob is clearly not a Big Fish Diary reader and is staring at the same point of the pool 40 yards away where his fly landed looking, confused as to why he can't even see a fly line; let alone a beautifully tuned over size 10 double swimming steadily over the prime lies of the pool. The exchange that ensued was probably a bit surreal for both of us:-
"Och wee man, wat's that in yer face"
"That'll be the fly Rob"
"Yer bleedin...."
"Yep"
"Och, why did yer do that?"
Silence as I use forceps to rip the fly (which is embedded over the bards in my left cheek) out. No tears - farmers sons have this gene removed at birth.
"It's bleeding a lot"
"Yep,..... I'll take the rod"
"Magic, I'll get the case"
Clearly, despite somehow bagging a few fish I am still a casting imbecile.
However (!), after racking and packing the newly acquired secret weapon, the old outfit is back in action and a run through Craggenmore pool produces the most violent take I've ever had on any freshwater rod. After a few really heavy head shakes and lunges the fish goes totally mad and within literally seconds the whole fluoro orange long belly spey fly line is gone and I'm down to the backing.
Rob is watching closely from the hut and I can do absolutely nothing with the fish. After a grand tour around the pool, the fish zooms towards the tail and the rapids beyond. I fail to stop it and as I start to run down the bank after it, I see Rob rowing over the head of the pool with the weigh net, the "Tulchan 20" weigh net!!"
Panic grips me as I run after the fish for 100 yards until I'm opposite Allan fishing the belly of Tail of Wood, the next pool down. He drops his rod and photos this crazy man chasing an orange line down the river. The fish runs straight through the pool without stopping at all and hell bent on going back to Greenland goes through the next set of rapids. I can't think I can get away with a fish going through two sets of white-water without either the leader parting or the hook pulling but somehow I did - Fulling Mill Fluorocarbon 12 lbs please take a bow....
The adrenaline is going mad now as it just must be a 20 lber. I'm into the tail of the next pool when panting and having taken a couple of semi dunkings in the margins on the way down, I'm starting to get some control. The next rapids are not negotiable on my bank so the drag is cranked up to the max and the fish finally turns upstream. Fifteen dogged minutes later and Damian, up to his waist, lunges and gets the fish into the net. It's a good fish but nowhere near a 20. The hook falls out when netting the fish and the staff scale says it's roughly 13 lbs. Damian thinks it was foul hooked which may explain the merry dance but the head shakes of the early fight suggest not. Could the hook have slipped, was it hooked in the dorsal?
No way of telling but who cares, a truly memorable experience and one to savour for a very long time. Cone head Silver Stoat tube again by the way!
Tight lines
Mr Fish
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