The River Tavy dropped to a fishable level on Monday so I took the Sage for a walk along my favourite beat. The peat stained water from the weekend downpour rushed past and I knew that it would be a waste of time using a nymph, I needed something with a flash. I’ve never caught a trout on a Peter Ross or any other traditional wet fly. My fly boxes are full of Butchers, Dunkelds and Invictas, flies lovingly made fifty years ago, that have never been used.

I dragged a small Peter Ross around in the water at my feet and admired the way the barred teal slicked back to imitate a tiny fish. I lacked confidence in the fly but at least the trout would see it easily. Sea trout had been caught lower down the river and after a fruitless thirty minutes exploring the first pool, I wondered if a couple of large sea trout had taken up residence and scared the little brownies away.

I paddled on the gravel beside a long, wide riffle and worked the fly down and across. An above average size brownie seized the fly, jumped and threw the barbless hook. I walked downstream and chatted to another member who had caught a sea trout about two pounds and lost another about four pounds. His success tended to confirm my theory that big sea trout push the small trout out of the best pools. I got home just before the rain. I moved some traditional flies from my presentation fly box into the box in my jacket pocket.

On Saturday the river was settling down after another spate. I walked to the bottom of a beat further down the river and admired the foam flecked water as it poured over the top of the weir. Salmon and sea trout would have no difficulty in swimming upstream. I watched the water for a few minutes hoping to see a fish but they were probably long gone, I turned back and walked to the top of the beat. The humidity was high and the air was thick with midges. The river was too high and my rod remained in its bag. It will be perfect on Sunday if there is no more rain.

. . . – – – . . .