Lower Pavilion, Tweed (23 May 2015)

I'd lost a fish on Middle Pavilion the Saturday before and so I was keen to get back out and try and exorcise the ghost, by the time my day on Lower Pavilion came around. The fish had taken a small, cone head Silver Stoat shrimp-style tube I had been given by a syndicate member at Waltham & Dritness on Bottom Tweed last Summer. I'd hooked it in the Bridge Pool, near the top of the beat, and played it for a minute or more before it surfaced and spat the hook. From the look of it, it was brand new and Mick, the ghillie, thought this would be the reason the hook-hold slipped; it was the seventh fish lost at Middle Pavilion that week, with only one landed as compensation.

I arrived at the Lower Pavilion hut, on the banks of the river at Gattonside, near Melrose, at 9am. Scott, the ghillie, fixed me up with a coffee and we had a quick chat with the other rods -  acknowledging that it was a bit bright to be good fishing weather - before kitting-up for the day. The river was at about 8" on the beat gauge, so we were in need of a little top-up. The beat has a good bit of depth, though, so there are a few main points of focus even though it is otherwise a high-water beat. A 15ft intermediate tip on my floating scandi versitip would be just about right for the conditions.

I was to fish Beat 2 - the middle of the beat - in the morning, starting on the North bank in the Cauld Pool before moving downstream to Island Stream below the chain bridge and would fish the bottom of the beat in the afternoon. The North bank is the deeper of the two banks of the Cauld Pool and the main flow of the current is around one-third of the way across to the South bank at 8", so a bit of adjustment and care was required to present the fly well. I focussed mainly on trying to slow my Black and Yellow Ally's Shrimp down as it passed over the main depth, which I thought would present the best chance in the bright conditions. The water temperature was up on recent weeks, at 53f, and so if given enough of a look at the fly the fish should come off its lie for it in these conditions. I wasn't trying to achieve any great distance in this pool, so I moved down fairly quickly. The tail of the pool has the best fly-water and has a few boils to focus on, but there was no interest in my fly and so I moved down the the Island Stream which I hadn't fished on my previous visit.

Pictured: The Cauld Pool, looking downstream from the North Bank.

I crossed over the chain bridge and sat on the South bank grass at the croy at the top of the pool and considered a change of fly whilst I watched the pool for a while. It was one of those days where you don't feel in any hurry to get a fly in the water, due to the unfavourable conditions. I've got a few favourites for bright conditions - mainly various small, black shrimps - but Scott appeared for a chat during the selection process and by decision time I had a fair-sized dressed Cascade on. In certain pools - especially those with some depth - the water had a slight dusty, murky character and so I was grateful for the extra presence, despite the low water and bright conditions; the river will probably need a bit of a clear out soon. 

Pictured: Island Stream, from the chain bridge. The lie behind the top croy seemed a good spot, with a good bit of depth.

I enjoyed fishing down Island Stream, with its strong, forgiving flow and broken surface, which always gives me confidence that fish will feel safe enough to hold in a stream even when the sunshine might suggest otherwise. I moved down through the pool fairly slowly to carefully cover the boils and lies spread through the pool, before I reached the getting-out point. There was only 20 minutes left until lunch and so I headed back to the hut instead of fishing the next croy down, which I had fished the previous Spring.

Pictured: Beat 2, with Island Stream in the foreground and the cauld in the background.

Lunchtimes spent in fishing huts are often very educational experiences and it was nice to hear that the other rods on the beat were very clued-up and experienced in Salmon fishing in Wester Ross, a Raine family favourite and a place I hope to do some more fishing in future, should the fish farms not get them all in the meantime. The fact that lunchtime approached an hour and half gives an indication on our thoughts on our chances in the afternoon, but I eventually headed off downstream with Scott and another rod before tossing a coin, winning and ending up in Cowie's, at the downstream march with the Tweedswood beat. 

Pictured: The hut (lodge!) at Lower Pavilion.

I'd fished Cowie's once before in 2014 and so had an idea of what I was trying to do. It's not a 'textbook' pool to fish as the stream into the pool is wide but converges into a stronger, main flow almost under your feet as you wade down the left bank on the outside of the bend. There must be lies on the inside of the bend at the top of the pool on the right bank, but I was later informed by Scott that fishing the left bank allows the fly to spend enough time over the fish to improve your chances by fishing this side of the pool. I started off casting the floating head of my line so that only the running line was over the main flow, therefore avoiding any drag on the floating head. By the time I'd moved a few yards downstream, this wasn't necessary as the main flow and therefore the likely lies were focussed along the left bank. I worked my way down before a couple of fairly coloured looking fish rose just upstream from me - one of which appeared to be running - and I wondered if I'd perhaps fished the best of the pool. 

Pictured: Cowie's.

There was a deeper pot that I hadn't seen last April, which was evident as a result of the sunshine penetrating down into the pool. This looked like a useful spot in the sunshine and low water and so I rolled out a few more short range casts, aware that I was nearing the Tweedswood boundary and would have to get out shortly, when there was a real snatch of a take, following by a couple of firm tugs on the line and a flick of a tail on the surface - fish on! 

I gathered up my running line onto the reel and held fast for a minute or so to see what sort of hook-hold I had. Although the fish had a fair bit of depth to use, it held at a fairly shallow depth for a while, taking a few yards of line here and there before conceding them again. After maybe two or three minutes, the fish seemed to have got used to the idea that it had been hooked and decided to fight back. It turned and ran hard downstream on the left bank, fairly close into a sharp rocky ledge at the edge of the flow, all the while my Marquis was screaming. While it was closer in, I could keep the leader clear of any sharp rocks by keeping the rod tip high, but at the end of its run I was concerned that the rocks would give the fish its escape. I moved slowly down the bank and managed to collect some line and - more confident in my hook-hold - applied a bit of pressure to take some energy from the fish before it decided it fancied heading further towards Tweedswood.

Pictured: Fish on in Cowie's.

Before I landed it, the fish had head and tailed, come into the shallows and run again and tried to unhook itself by going for the bottom of the deep pot mentioned above. Eventually, though, it was played out. The unhooking was straight-forward, so I got a nice picture of it with my rod before recovering it and watching it swim quietly down into the depths of Cowie's.

Pictured: 10lbs springer - not a 'bar of silver' but a strong, well-formed fish with a lot of fight.

It was roughly 4pm by this stage and, having left my fly box in the car at lunchtime, I thought that giving Cowie's another run was probably not worthwhile with the Cascade still on the business end. I made my way back up the bank of Cowie's and set off back up to the hut to catch up with Scott and the other rods. On measuring my rod to the nose of the fish in my photograph, it was recorded at 30 inches in length and 10lbs in weight - I was glad just to get off the mark for the season, but it was also nice to get into double-figures with the fish. It wasn't sparkling fresh - maybe it had been in a few weeks - but it fought well and I hadn't been expecting much in the conditions, so this was very welcome after two lost fish in the last month or so and even more last Summer and back-end.

I'm yet to make my plans for the next few weeks, but I will factor in a trip to Pol Dornie, River Garry, and if we get some rain I'll be out on the Ettrick. With the fairly major exceptions of the Dee and Esks, both of which I've fished a fair bit this season already, it seems that a few rivers are - in the short term at least - having a deserved improved period and it will certainly be interesting to see what materialises as we move into the Summer months. 

Best of luck for the final days of the Spring period.

Calum

PS - On a sad note, my fishing buddy Russell is moving to New Zealand this week and so will be M.I.A. from the Scottish Salmon 'scene' for now. Here's a nice fish of his from the Fairnilee syndicate period, last season. Best of luck pal!

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