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In the River OSHINO  --Vol.57--

The First Brown Trout

I picked up that fancy fly from the lost corner of the fly box and put it to the leader. I had decided to try that fly but I felt uneasy because its shape and colour were completely different from my regular ones. Should I change it into a usual white fly? Hmm, wait! How many times did I see fish make poor response to white flies? Today I will try a new fly at a new fishing spot. Come on, I can do it! When I came to the final decision the river had been surrounded by twilight.

A sedge came flying from downstream and another one. Others came fluttering rhythmically from upstream, too. Suddenly an increasing number of them started flying and I heard a low sound in front of me. A ripple spread in the centre of the pool. Good! Here is a fish.

I cast the fly carefully. Although it was a large bright-coloured fly I could see only its dim shape after it settled on the water. It did not drift well because the stream made a swirl at the rise spot. The fly was drifting downstream, while the line came flowing towards me. Soon the fly was pulled by the leader and stopped in the middle of the stream.

Oh, dear! Try again! At that moment I saw a splash at the fly-drifting spot. Immediately I raised the rod. I felt a faint pull but the fly caught no fish. Why? I checked the fly and was very shocked. There was no fly at the leader tip. I broke the leader at this great opportunity.

Surely the fish bit my fly. But I missed it because I hooked up the fish too strongly. Overwhelmed by mixed feelings of satisfaction and irritation, I could not think anything. My heart was beating so fast that I could not breathe properly, either.

I had another fancy fly in the fly box. I opened it with my trembling hands and picked it up. Thank God! I’ll never fail again.

When I was about to put the new fly to the broken leader tip a large ripple with a large splash spread in front of me. Although I managed to calm down a little, the sound stirred me again.
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Brown trout appeared from somewhere in the evening. A good-sized one was hardly caught at sunny daytime.

The Lucky Fly

Trying to keep cool, I cast the fly to the rise spot. I cast it across the stream at right angles. When it drifted downstream to the end, a ripple spread on the surface with a splash. The fly disappeared. I hooked up the fish very carefully not too strongly.

I raised the rod a little. It bent in a large arc and came to a stop. A moment later the tightened line began to be drawn out. I felt strong pull.

The river was the deepest here in front of me. The fish started going down to the bottom, swinging its head. The rod bent in the largest arc that I had ever seen. Somehow I felt that the line was pulled in a different way from rainbow trout.

A big fish? Now I was relaxed enough to wonder its size. It looked much bigger than trout I had ever caught in Yohzawa and Tannzawa. Suddenly the fish appeared on the surface. It was still light in the evening. I could see big black spots on the yellowish belly of the fish. A brown trout. Finally I got it! I was excited and surprised that the fish was much smaller than I had expected. Its strong pull had made me imagine a nice sized fish but it was actually 40cm long.

I removed the fly from the fish and quickly washed it in the water. The worn-out fly with stiff starched-like wings revived as a nice one. But it seemed to float no more. I cast it a bit farther downstream, where I saw a rise during my fighting with the first brown trout.
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July, 1970. Straight stream suddenly meandered here. I named it S-shaped point. A densely leafed tree to the left was named a ghost tree.

It suddenly got dark. I could not see the fly at all. But I had no intention to change the fly. It was the lucky fly that made me catch the first brown trout. Even if it is not seen or floats, it will do something remarkable. I had a firm belief.

Probably I cast it three times. I found the fly flowing downstream to the end, pulled by the leader and crossing the stream. There was a little triangle ripple on the dimly leaden-shining surface. When my eyes followed it a large ripple spread. A fish’s bit the fly! I raised the rod. I felt a heavy pull. A bigger fish came towards me, swinging violently its head and went down to the deep bottom in front of me as before.

The fish pulled the line in the same way as the previous one but much more strongly. It must be a big one. Fortunately, while it went down and down I had time to calm down to fight properly. The fish kept fighting powerfully. More than 5 minutes later it appeared on the surface although it was too dark to see it. Without the net I missed to grab it at the bank side several times. Every time it slipped from my hands I broke into a cold sweat. Finally I could slide up the fish on the reed grown bank.

It was a beautiful brown trout, a little shorter than 50cm. There were bright black and red large spots on the light-coloured belly.

Give it a Try

I felt as if I had been in a dream. I caught two brown trout after longtime efforts. I found it more beautiful and powerful than I had expected.

I removed the fly from the fish. Although it was not seen clearly, the fly was changed into a sticky small lump.
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In 1970 brown trout were thought to be dream fish.

I washed the fly. I stood up and looked around the pool. Miracle rises in the evening were over and it was completely dark. The water was faintly shining but as silent as the grave. There was no trace of noises of evening rise or my fighting with the fish.

I took a pair of scissors from the pocket to cut off my lucky fly and keep it safely but changed my mind. I wanted to cast it once more to the faintly shining surface.

I knew that the fly would not float any more or that I could not see it even if it floated on the surface. However, I caught my second brown trout in the same bad condition. It was true the evening rise was over. But if fish are still hungry something might happen.

I drew out the line from the reel and cast the fly towards the opposite bank, trusting only my intuition. The opposite bank was not so far. Probably the fly settled at the brink of the river wall. I could only see the line extended from the rod tip very dimly. The line slowly turned downstream and stopped. Surely the fly was drifting along the same spots as I caught the second brown trout.

I cast the fly twice but nothing happened. The end of the pool extended a bit downstream. If I cast the longer line so that it reaches to the end of the pool to the opposite bank it must hit the other side. So I drew out more line from the reel and cast it down and across the current.

-- To be continued --
2002/09/22  KEN SAWADA
Tranlated into English by Miyoko Ohtake