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In the River KATSURA  --Vol.93--

The River Katsura

Since I had an interest in fly fishing I had spent the most of my time in various mountain streams. I can say that those 20 years were my mountain-stream days. But one river named Oshino was slightly different from ordinary mountain streams. It was always spring inside the water of the River Oshino even in mid-winter because the source of the river was the rich groundwater of Mt. Fuji. In early spring when the temperature dropped below the freezing point and the guide of the rod was frozen, the fish made rise to get bait on the surface.

In the early 1970’s in most of mountain streams in Kanto District the fishing season started from early March. Walking a little in the mountain, however, we felt it was still winter there. In most rivers fish never broke the surface to bite the dry fly. That was why I always went to the River Oshino just after the opening day. Then I found that it would be useless to fish there during the daytime except for high water after rain if I wanted to get a nice-sized fish. Therefore I left home in the afternoon of the fine day to fish Oshino in the evening.
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The word “the opening day” made anglers mad. A little hope was always broken by the harsh realty. But anglers went fishing to make sure by themselves.

I went fishing to snowy Oshino from the opening day but paid no attention to the River Katsura just downstream. Now I did not understand my ignorance but in those days I had obvious reasons. One was that Oshino was a unique river in Japan, whose source was the rich spring water. It looked like the Chalk Stream in England I had seen in the photo. There was no ripple on the surface and it was as quiet as a pond. But it flowed rapidly and the bottom was covered with beautiful algae. In addition, there lived my dream fish, brown trout! That was why I considered Oshino to be a special river. Actually I thought that fish made rise in March not only because of high water-temperature but mainly because of its speciality.

It was true that the River Oshino was a special river but there were other rivers where the rich spring water flowed into. The River Katsura just downstream was one of those rivers but I did not recognize it or refused to do so.

The other reason was that the River Katsura in those days (even still today, unfortunately) was a miserable river in comparison with other mountain streams. The banks were terribly narrow, the most part of the riverside was protected and there was so much rubbish everywhere. I often went there to look into the river but always came back disappointed. That was why I had only fished the River Oshino in March for the first several years since I knew Oshino. I had hoped to fish other rivers in the morning but could not because of lack of experience or knowledge.
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In May, 1972, I fished valleys of the Tanzawa mountain range. The scenery changed with dizzying speed. I loved it and went into one valley after another with a map in my hand.

Then cherry blossom came out in the mountain and the mountain streams started to hum. I went fishing one valley after another from morning till afternoon. I made dry flies drift on the various streams and fished yamame trout and char. In that season more fish broke the surface in the warm daytime in most mountain streams, whereas Oshino was the evening spot. My fishing pattern was to fish mountain streams in Tanzawa, Mt. Yatsugatake, the South Japan Alps or Okutama until afternoon and headed for Oshino in the evening.

Mountain streams and the River Oshino had nothing in common. Mountain streams were bright, cheerful and full of variety, whereas Oshino was very quiet. There was no sound at some part. It was so quiet that I could not believe the river flowed in front of me. But when the time was ripe big fish made rise, breaking the stillness. The river dramatically changed in a moment. I was excited, feeling thirsty and I cast the wet fly to the rise.

I experienced two extremely different types of fishing in a day. When both were successful I was happy, even feeling it was too good to be true.
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In September, 1975. The River Yukawa in Nikko was one of a few precious rivers although I went only several times a year. It was the Chalk Stream like the River Oshino.

Light Snow from the Clear Sky

Probably in early April, 1972, I left for Oshino in the afternoon as usual. I did not need to arrive before the evening but I could not just wait. If I should be late for any reason, I would ruin all my fishing day. So I left home very early and arrived at Fujiyosida near Oshino 2 hours earlier than evening.

Turning left at the corner before arriving at the one leading to Oshino, I headed for the outskirt of Asumi town. Driving a little ahead, I crossed the river whose banks were both completely protected. It was the River Katsura. It would take me 10 minutes to get to Oshino. I had fished there several times to kill the time before evening when I arrived at Oshino too early. But I had realized that it was the place for small yamame trout. I had been always watching my watch and the sun setting behind Mt. Fuji during fishing.

I parked beside the embankment and stood on the protected bank. The scenery in front of me was quite different from that in my memory. I had come only in May and after, when cherry blossom was in full bloom and zelkova trees had green leaves on the protected banks, the waterside was covered with fresh green watercress and wagtails and swallows were flying over there. But now all I could see was dark protected banks and black lava spreading on the bottom. Withered reeds piled on the narrow riverside and cold wind blew now and then, which made reeds rustle. There seemed to be no sign of living things now in early April, a month earlier than my previous fishing season.
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In July, 1977. The valley in the South Japan Alps was my regular fishing place partly because I could easily drop in at Oshino in the evening.

I chose a rod of 8 ft. prepared for Oshino because I would move there soon. Then I put No.5 line to the rod and size 3X leader of 6ft. to the line end. Size 3X leader was thinner than that for Oshino. Although taper leader had been introduced from the U.S. it seemed to me too fragile. Therefore I put the leader without taper to the line. Then I put to the leader tip Size 12 Royal Coachman, a dry fly I had worked so hard to dress.

Probably because I worked with my eyes downward, it looked dark when I finished preparing for fishing. Something cold touched the back of my neck. I turned around to see the snow flakes whirling from the sky. Thin snow came down from grey clouds hanging on Mt. Fuji. As it was fine at the west of the clouds, I thought the snow would stop within half an hour.

The whole area of banks was completely protected near Asumi in the River Katsura. It was just a channel except that lava on the bottom made the stream similar to mountain stream. I fished, standing on 3m-high bank, which refused me from climbing up and down. Fishing condition was terrible, indeed.
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In April, 1975. I fished the River Hohki in Tochigi Prefecture, one of the precious rivers in the village, which were shallow and sunny in that season.

I walked to the upper reaches of the bridge. There was a little barrier, which formed the largest point around there. As I had caught some yamame trout in that pool, I always started fishing there during the off-season. Black lava on the bottom prevented me from seeing through the water. Only white snow flakes melted into the dark surface. I cast the fly from the embankment. A wing of Royal Coachman looked like a flake of snow. The fly started drifting on the surface and disappeared, leaving a small splash. It was a complete surprise. Immediately I lifted the rod but only fly was there.

The fish broke the surface! It happened so suddenly, which confused me. I did not mind setting the hook to no fish. The fish broke the surface in such an early season! I took a deep breath and cast the fly carefully. Royal Coachman drifted on the dark surface in the same way. Before it drifted 1m it disappeared with a splash again. I was ready for that moment and set the hook to the fish. Ah, only the fly was there again.
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A yamame trout without winter colour against the fresh green watercress. A sign of summer coming soon.

Regret!

I cast and got only my fly another 5 times. I could not understand why and was completely at a loss. Another mysterious thing was that rise started here and there. I watched the surface carefully but there was no insect anywhere, to which the fish wanted to make rise.

I had planned to fish downstream as far as 100m but I was glued to the first pool for nearly half an hour. I set the hook to no fish more than 10 times and finally hooked a yamame trout. I pulled the fish to the stream under my feet but could not climb down the protected bank. All I could do was to wait until the fish became a little bit powerless and then I retrieved the line to pull it up carefully to me. It was a beautiful-patterned wide yamame trout of 25cm.

Why could not I hook up the fish so many times? Thinking in this way or that, I headed for the stream again. The snow stopped falling and the setting sun was shining on the top of the zelkova tree opposite me. There was no more rise. I felt as if I had been bewitched by a fox. Did the fish make rises to the snow flake?

-- To be continued --
2006/05/11  KEN SAWADA
Tranlated into English by Miyoko Ohtake