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Flood and Dry Weather  --Vol.4--

Stingray

Preparing myself for fishing, I came back to the riverside. Ah, the river had terribly muddy water. It was only a few minutes before that I saw clear water along the bank, which made me very high-spirited. But now I felt as if the river had poured cold water on me. What a different impression the river gives us! Whether we have a hope or not made a great change of our impression.
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Pulling myself together, I stood in front of the beat-border stone. I opened my new fly box that I had prepared for this season and picked up one fly without hesitation. It was Stingray Long-tailed of 15cm in the full length. After using it in muddy water in Bridge Pool in the previous year, I made further improvement on it. I set my new fly to the sinking line.

To see the fly hanging and swaying by wind in front of me made me relaxed and gave me the fighting spirit. Further upstream that angler (mentioned in part III) began to cast the fly. I walked into the river, checking the condition of the bottom stones.

When I was knee-deep in the water, the flow became rapidly. It did not look a rapid stream at a glance but lack of big stones nearby made the flow monotonous like a channel. I found that the river flowed heavily and the pebbles underfoot were washed away rapidly.
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Stingray Long-tailed I had improved for muddy water.I could not imagine its first use was in such terrible high water.

I said that the water was clear near the bank side but I just mean that it was clearer than muddy water. Before I was waist-deep in the water my foot could not be seen through. Wading was rather dangerous in this situation. I walked very carefully not to get stuck in the depth.
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Taking some steps into the river, I found the water pressure was higher than I had expected.

I could wade through the water only 30m from the border stone because of steep slope further downstream. Then I noticed one spot downstream where the water surface was boiling. Non-smooth flow amongst the monotonous one like a channel meant that the river bottom became suddenly steep there. From the first glance of the beat I considered that spot as the only possible fishing spot. Now the boiling pool was spreading in front of me. Levelling the river bed pebbles, which were easily washed away, I cast the fly downstream.

As I fished downstream, the line suddenly swung more slowly. Although it had stretched downstream immediately after it settled on the water, now it suddenly stretched slowly. It showed that there was a countercurrent. Probably the river bed was deeply dug as a conical shape. I continued to cast the fly carefully.
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Are there any fish in the transparent flow along the bank?

Probably I cast the line 5 times after the fly reached the boiling pool. The line seemed to go past there within another several castings. Monotonous stream flowed again further downstream. Anyway, such high water prevented me from fishing downstream beyond there.

I was standing in the water only 3m away from the waterside. Mary Anne was sitting at the root of nearby tree. Highly dangerous river discouraged her from fishing.
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An angler upstream and I were probably the only anglers that fished the River Gaula on that day.

I directed the rod tip towards Mary Anne and turned the line to the bank side, when I felt something touch the line. It was very tiny pull, as if a tiny leaf got stuck in the fly.

"Something has touched my fly."

I said to Mary Anne. But I thought my fly hooked a scrap of twigs because I had hooked twigs several times for a short time since I started fishing downstream.

"Something has touched my fly again. It is still touching." I whispered to myself, watching the rod tip that was stretching halfway between Mary Anne and me.
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I cast the fly and floated it on the boiling pool downstream.

At the third time I saw the rod tip slightly move.

"What’s that? Surely it isn’t a fish, is it?"
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Something came to my fly but it wouldn't move an inch.

The rod tip moved again, although only slightly.

"You can't mean it. Is it really a fish?"

"Hum, hmm---, Yes, I'm sure, it's a fish!"

A Cold Shiver

Immediately strain ran through me. Lowering my waist, I turned the rod upstream and tightened the line quietly and slowly, praying that the fly would not lose the fish. Probably the line had been jostled in the complicated flow and loosened so much. I felt a heavy tug on the line, as if I had been pulling an elastic band. Then the line did not move any more. I only half believed it was a fish but pulled the line more strongly. When the rod bent in a large arc near to my hand, the line was pulled back with great strength.

"Here comes the fish!" I screamed unintentionally.

The line did not move any more. But I clearly remembered the feeling how the line was pulled back. It was pulled by enormous strength. Then it stopped moving. I tightened the line again until the rod bent in a large arc.

Several seconds passed without any motion. The line was tightened and there is a 15cm Stingray Long-tailed at its end. What the hook got stuck in was not either a rock or a log. Although it was only once that I felt a tug that proved that the fly was pulled by a fish, I felt cold shiver from strain. It’s not an ordinary salmon! It was quite clear.

Besides the scene of muddy water and raging river, chirping of a dusky thrush was heard from the forest after rain. I heard nothing but pleasant singing and water sound underfoot. It was strangely quiet like the lull before the storm.
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When I went up on the bank and pulled the line with my all strength, that chap started moving.

After I went up slowly on the bank I turned the rod and tightened the line again. The line which was tightened hard like a bow string got stuck in muddy water. I worried that large and small twigs were drifting incessantly. If, unfortunately, a large twig caught my line it would be the end of fighting. But I could hardly move from my standing point. I only expected the fish to move.

Going into Fighting

Raising the rod high, which had been kept horizontally, I held the reel and bent the rod until the rod grip squeaked. Definitely I did so with great strength. Nevertheless, I was not sure what I was doing but felt strange like in a dream.

Fresh green forest, pleasant singing of a dusky thrush, terrible flood of the river and my line stuck into the river, what a strange combination! Surely the fish bit my fly. Nevertheless, I felt as if the fox that had appeared a little while before had bewitched me.

Suddenly I was brought back to the real world from my dream. No sooner had I removed my hand from the reel because I felt some sign from the fish than the sharp sound of the rattling reel echoed around like an alarm clock. Finally a gong was struck. I went into fighting with the fish.
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I started fighting with the fish with all my might.

The fish ran almost 20m without a rest and stopped there. But it did not stay still. It swung its head widely and turned around. I had expected it to move and run while it had been staying still. And now it really began to move. A cold shiver ran through me.

The fish was about 30m away from the bank. Further downstream extraordinarily muddy water was flowing as far as I could see. Even if the fish ran another 30m---not to the heart of the stream---it would be able to put its body on that muddy water. Only imaging that case made me feel tense and thirsty. I leaned forwards from the waterside again to see how the riverbank was. Unfortunately, how many times I checked it the situation was not changed. It was utterly impossible to walk downstream along the bank to follow the fish.

No matter what happens I can do nothing but fight here! I made up my mind. Suddenly the fish moved. In no time a grey thing like a twig split the water surface. The fish finally floated. In the next moment a silver fish jumped high in the air.

"A big fish, over 26lb!"

I screamed to Mary Anne nearby. Immediately she dashed to the car to take the video camera.

-- To be continued --
2002/12/22  KEN SAWADA
Tranlated into English by Miyoko Ohtake