Middle Pavilion, Tweed (27 June 2014)

Middle Pavilion has become possibly my favourite Tweed beat of those I have fished so far, since I visited in May. It has a great variety of water, from slow, deep holes such as Kerr's and the tail of Boatshiel - suitable for a boat in Spring levels or for a slow retrieve at Summer lows - to rapid torrents where the fly flashes across the pool such as The Whirls. In between these extremities are all sorts of pools, most of which I have seen fish in in my two days on the beat so far. In addition to this, the beat is set away from nearby roads (which are minor anyway), creating a sense of calm on the river that often isn't afforded elsewhere. On top of this, there is a good hut with decking overlooking two of the best and most productive pools, The Whirls and my favourite, Boatshiel. Mick, the gillie, is excellent company, too.

Pictured: Closing time at the Middle Pavilion hut.

Arriving slightly late for the 8:45am meeting time (a nasty accident on the road south, near Melrose, was the cause), the draw for pools was made with the one other rod on the beat and I set off with Mick for Meg's, the final pool upstream, before Upper Pavilion. While a reading of 1" on the gauge is never going to be met with scenes of wild celebration amongst anglers, the streamy nature of Meg's meant that it was in satisfactory condition on the day and I believe there had been a salmon caught from this pool on the Wednesday of the week leading up to my day. I went for a small Black Frances (you'll perhaps notice a pattern emerging for my fly selection in warm, low conditions!) and fished through relatively quickly, moving down a couple of yards for each cast, in consideration of the clarity of the water. My previous visit had me fishing Meg's with a Single Spey from the left bank, as the stream at 8" to 1' is spread more widely across the river. This time, the low water meant the main stream was hugging the left bank and so it was better to create some distance - and avoid the back-eddies and currents created by the rocky left bank - by fishing down the gravelly right bank, about knee-deep in the water. I didn't see any salmon in the pool, but I was reliably informed that they tend not to show in Meg's, but they are there. An averagely-sized brownie lost and a parr quickly brought to hand and released were the result of my hour or so in the pool. I took Mick's advice and moved on to Upper Bridge for a half hour or so before Middle Pavilion's trademark 11am coffee break, which was extremely welcome.

Pictured: The top of Meg's - fished from the left bank in better water.

Upper Bridge, being extremely slow at this height and a long cast (my 12fter still being in action as a result of repairs required to my 15fter), was not the pool I had greatest expectations of a take in. However, a lie created by a sheltered back-eddy behind a stantion of the bridge always creates a sense of anticipation. A fish jumped in the tail of The Spit, the next pool down, but obviously it wasn't aware that it was time for a coffee break.

I returned to the hut to hear that the other rod had had a number of takes and had lost a salmon at the bank while fishing Boathshiel, right at the beginning of the day. Although conditions were far from ideal, the pools on the beat seemed to be lively enough and hopes were high for more action as the day progressed. This said, one of the topics of conversation over a brew was slight disappointment at the number of Summer salmon entering the river and evident on beats in general at this stage of the season. I returned upstream to start fishing The Spit and to see if the fish from earlier - which had shown just towards midstream from a known lie under an overhanging tree - was still there. A fish did jump in a similar spot while working my way down, placing casts between tree branches, but I am informed that if they don't take if first time, they won't the second, either, and so I moved on down towards The Whirls.

Pictured: The Whirls was still pushing through quickly, despite the extremely low water. A catch was made later in the day in front of the gauge in the left of the picture.

A minor change of tactic - Black Boar for Black Frances - was made and I began casting across the fast neck of The Whirls, mending the line and flashing the fly across the stream. A sharp tug in a sheltered lie at the top of the pool was, unfortunately, a one time only thing and I continued on down the pool after a second cast over the lie. Pools, such as this, where the fly moves quickly across the stream always give me more confidence of a take. Perhaps this is because all of my more recent fish (i.e. since the beginning of last season's 'back end') have been in moderate to fast water. However, by the time I had fished down past the gauge, through the neck of Boatshiel and into its latter reaches, thereby reaching the point where the water begins to slow, I had to change to less favoured tactics of using a slow retrieve to make the fly present well. By this stage, I was fishing a small Tosh and, although I was aware of plenty fish that had been showing throughout the pool, my expectations were not as high as in the top and middle of the pool. As a cast slowly worked its way round and I retrieved with a medium 'figure of eight', the middle of the line bellied in the little current that remained, suggesting the fly had been stopped. The lack of any commotion, or movement in the line, made me think I had simply caught on a rock. I lifted my rod tip to see if I could ease the fly clear. As I did so, a sharp and almost angry tug downwards made me realise that perhaps I should concentrate more on this slower fishing approach(!). Four or five seconds of downward tugs from the depths of the pool's dub were all that came of this, unfortunately. The hook didn't set as well as was needed, the fly was freed and the line was slack again. Very frustrating, again, and a fish soon would now be very welcome! This said, it's good to have some sport, rather than none at all.

Pictured: Boatshiel, with the scene of the crime (my lost fish) in mid-stream, in front of the tree stump on the far bank.

Shortly after, it was time to stop for lunch. With only one other rod, the scope for plenty of input as to which pool to start in for the afternoon session - while sticking to the beat's usual 'cycle' round the pools - was wide. I went for The Spit again and began another run down through the many lies of this pool, The Whirls and Boatshiel. On my second run down, and upon reaching Boatshiel, I heard a crash from the tail of The Whirls. My initial reaction was to take note of where it had come from so I could let Mick and the other rod know, had they not seen it themselves. It was about this time that I realised the the continuing commotion was a result of a good-sized Sea Trout hooked by the other rod. A 10 minute battle, with many classic Sea Trout leaps, and the fish was tailed. A perfect specimen.

Things quietened down during my second run through the pools, apart from a cruel, 'salt in the wound' visit from Mick, who had arrived to inform that he had picked up an 11lb hen earlier on somewhere towards Elmweil, near the bottom of the beat; he could only really have been fishing for a few minutes! Oh well - as Mick informed, no catches just means I have to make a return visit and a family dinner at Burt's in Melrose afterwards certainly helped. One is surely on its way soon though, isn't it?!

Tight lines.

Calum