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Discretion and observation
It's mid-afternoon when I arrive at a translucent river. The vegetation is pumping at this time of year and the recent rains have not affected the clarity of the water, so I'll have to be discreet.
No insects so far, but in this summer season the presence of terrestrial insects can always motivate a trout to come out.
I can't see anything for the first few hundred metres. I make slow progress and observe carefully, but there's not a fish in sight. On the other hand, small beige mayflies start to emerge here and there. I don't think they're big enough to bring a fish to the table.
However, just upstream of a crowded pit, I catch a glimpse of a large silhouette below the surface. I immediately stop my progress and take the time to observe. It's not a dream, it's a big fish. Imagos drift above its head without any reaction, but the fish rises several times, even though I can't see anything on the surface. Could it be ants stuck in the film? I don't see any, so I think this fish does take these little mayflies, but only at the emergent stage.
Banking on the first drift
Given the size of the fish and the tree in the water just downstream, this is no time for finesse. I put in a new tip in 15 hundredths. I tie on a small hare's ear and take a deep breath. I know I won't have many opportunities like this and that the trout won't give me the right to make a mistake, so my first drift has to be the right one.
There are some overhanging branches, but the current is steady, so it's playable. The first cast is good, the fly landing softly about 50 cm in front of the fish. It drifts along and I can see the silhouette rising quietly and slowly gobbling up my imitation. My heart is pounding, but I manage to take the necessary time before making a full strike.
The rod is bent and the trout struggles to the surface. I take advantage of this to maintain strong pressure, retrieve the line with my left hand while moving quickly towards it, grab the landing net and put it in. She's in! Everything went according to plan, the fight lasted only a few seconds and the trout is in the net without having had time to understand.
With the tree below, it was the only chance. If I'd let it get a bit faster, 15 hundredths wouldn't have slowed down such a fish.
I'm ecstatic, this trout is truly magnificent. A quick photo without taking the fish out of the water, and it's already back in the water.
I take a few moments to savor the moment. How can such tiny insects bring out such large, plump fish?
In a delicate situation
I resume prospecting with a light heart, as the day's objective has already been surpassed. I'm barely 40 meters in and I can't believe my eyes: a fish of the same calibre is there, also taking a seat on these little mayflies, which are decidedly appetizing. I check my hook and retie my knot. This allows me to eliminate the last few centimetres of my tip that came into contact with the teeth of the previous fish.
I take the time to observe the spectacle of this feeding fish. Also to study the gobbling stroke and rhythm. I cast with timing. I can't see where my little hare's ear is falling. I didn't take the time to test its buoyancy and now I regret it. I don't take my eyes off the fish. I see it rise and stop just below the surface. I hook it and... it's at the end! What a feeling when you're not sure and the contact is made on the strike.
I try to reproduce the previous fight but stumble as I move quickly towards the fish. I almost fall, the line slackens for a moment and the trout takes advantage and rushes me towards the pit and its dead tree. I try to bridle as long as I can as I'm going downstream, but the situation is tricky: I've now got almost all my line out and I'm suffering. The fish can't be far from the tree and lost for lost, I block by putting my hand on the reel. The rod bends and I expect to break. But today, the gods are with me and I manage to stop it. An arm wrestle begins. The fish veers off to the left, towards the middle of the river, and I know then that I've done the hard part. I keep up the tension and he finally surfaces for the first time. A few seconds later, there it was in the landing net. An incredibly beautiful fish. It has that characteristic river coat with very few spots. Sublime. The landing net was set up in exactly the same spot for the quick photo.
I admire her dress for one last moment before she joins her beloved tree.
I'm on cloud nine, and I just sit back and savor this incredible moment I've just experienced. I don't want any more, I've already been spoiled too much. Even though the day looks like it's going to be a good one for big fish, I prefer to leave it at that and enjoy. I'll spend a good while at the water's edge recalling these precious moments, contemplating the passing kingfishers and the spectacle of young flycatchers learning to hunt.
Nature suffers, and this river is no exception. But it is still capable of offering us these incredible gifts. Thank you so much, I couldn't have asked for more!
