Rushed River Lugg session

Wye and Usk Foundation near Presteigne

I managed to squeeze in quick couple of hours on my drive back to Bristol. I think (Uncle) James and perhaps Grandpa used to fish the Lugg somewhere round these parts way back when. The stream here is full of fairly classic riffles and glides with some very deep pot pools and quite calm stretches. The water had probably been freshened up a bit by the heavy showers of the last week or so and whilst still running what looked to be quite low it had a tinge of colour to it which boded well for some sport. Despite some little grey flies (I really must brush up on my entomology) coming off I didn’t see a singe rise on my walk downstream. This only served to dampen my new water optimism a tad as I tacked up with now fairly de-rigueur New Zealand style dry and trailing weighted nymph. This being a fairly short trip on my way home I found myself struggling to relax and actually fish rather than mechanically going through the motions. I was thus very glad to hook a lively fish on a quick and shallow run. Initially I had to horse it out from under a sunken tree with some side strain. The rod being low then immediately led to the line catching under a slatey piece of rock from which the fish made good it escape. This was one of those occasions when you find yourself striking without really being sure why. Some say that it is some kind of sixth sense kicking in. All I do know is that if you get this feeling it should be acted on. In fact I find that I’m quite often tightening in to a fish without really being conscious o fit. When all is going well it’s the same kind of unthinking alertness which I sometime used to get when playing Ultimate Frisbee well or even more rarely when scoring a goal at hockey. I suppose some sports people would call it being in the zone or experiencing alpha waves in your noddle.

This near success allowed me to relax a little and as it turned out perhaps a tad too much. Squeezing a cast in to a very overgrown pool with willow (?) fronds draping the water I was day dreaming too much when a nice fish flashed out from it's lair to take the fly and I missed the take as the fish turned back back in to its hidey hole as quickly as it came out. Round the next bend I encountered a fish rising just above a fallen log making a mini waterfall. With no option other than to approach from downstream I cast above the log for what was to be a foot long drift at most. Sure enough the leader shot away and I hooked a plump little 6” brownie that manage a few little cartwheeling jumps as I pulled him over the log and it's mini water fall. The fish was quiet distinct from its upland cousins and certainly fatter than than the Claerwen fish from the day before.