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Treading the banks of Brittany's estuaries has become a real addiction since my first steps in June 2015. It's a hunt, a real stalk, more than fishing.
You have to be constantly on the lookout for the slightest movement, the slightest dark shadow moving across the bottom, between seaweed, rocks and sometimes structures. You have to be ready to take your shot and land your fly on that moving target, in this case a pretty, wary sea bass adapted to its environment, which will often let you down!
The first few outings are always very exciting, as it's been a few months since we left the bass alone and went fishing. The pleasure of watching bass marauding in little water is indescribable, and even if you don't always manage to catch them, observing them in their environment is magnificent and fascinating. You learn from every outing, every new situation. It's a fascinating predator that never ceases to surprise.
The first bars spotted
Just because you see a bar doesn't mean you can take it, far from it.
Particularly with flies, as the casting action is far more technical and less discreet than for sight lure anglers. Sea bass can quickly spot us on the move when we make false casts to get the line out and land our imitation close to the moving bass.
The excitement of the early season often leads to mistakes, as adrenaline rushes are guaranteed. I've been fishing for nearly ten years now, and that's what I'm looking for. To have my pulse racing!
It's such a challenge to be able to offer them our fly without being seen or frightening them, that year after year, the pleasure is as intense as ever.
On my first quick trip out to "take the temperature", I see three sea bass, but all moving fast. The crabs are just starting to come out, and there are very few small forage fish. The bass are moving fast to find something to sink their teeth into. This makes their fishing even more difficult than when they move slowly in search of crabs or shrimp.
The first two bars won't see the fly or will pass by without paying attention.
The third will come to inspect my crab imitation, but his positioning won't allow me to see well and the excitement and doubt will make me hook too early! In any case, I had to take a chance and it might not have worked.
The first bar is always a great moment, especially on sight!
For my second two-hour outing, I'm going to discover a new spot, and within the first few minutes, a superb sea bass of almost 60 cm or more will pass me by just a few meters away. I'm on oyster beds, and the sea bass will weave in and out of the tables. It comes out closer than expected and my crab isn't on its route.
I raise, then try to intercept its trajectory. The cast isn't too bad, but once again, I think the bass won't see it, or won't be interested at all. I'll see two other very shy and wary bass who won't see my fly either and will leave as quickly as they arrived.
My third outing proved to be the right one. After 45 minutes without seeing a single sea bass, but lots of mullet, I come across a nice fish that comes to rest under a clump of seaweed. His excitement is at its peak and I decide to present him with my fly, but he's badly positioned. So he doesn't see the fly, which I pull out of the water.
I watch and wait to see if it reappears. He's still there, turning under the bush, but still not on the right side. Nearly thirty seconds pass, then suddenly he turns. There I can cast my fly, right on the side of the clump where he can see it. The cast is perfect. The crab falls to the bottom 40 cm from him behind the tuft. I move him to create movement and vibration, and he emerges from his cover. I can see it approach and then tap the bottom. The strike is instinctive. He's at the end!
A few strokes of the head, and then off like a whirlwind through the seaweed. It's never easy in this situation. I enter the water to get my leader out of the seaweed and free my line. I finally feel the weight of the fish, which is massive and in great shape. He gives me a nice rush of several meters and rises to the surface. He opens his mouth to spit out my crab. I can see him better. He's really beautiful, especially for the first of the year. I bridle him as much as I can to keep him on the surface and slide him between the tufts, then bring him back to shore.
His head is dry and he's immobilized! I quickly measure him (63 cm) and take his picture. It feels so good to catch your first bass, especially on such a beautiful action where everything is visual. The sighting, the approach, then the gripping of the fly in 40 cm of water!
A very pleasing fish to launch this new season. Can't wait to go back!
