Fly Selection Masterclass

[Inchlaggan]

Fly Selection- A Masterclass.

The following will include a number of observations based on the exhaustive, scientific research of the author over many years and a number of practical exercises for the reader to undertake.

Far, far to much nonsense has been written about choice of rod, reel and line.
The mechanics and physics of casting have been burbled about ad nauseam.
Add - waders, boots, boats, motors, float tubes, jackets, waterproofs, cameras, maps, bags, GPS systems etc. etc. and whole rainforests have been turned into books and magazines plus, T'interweb is choking on websites and forum posts discussing such trivia.

Wake up, smell the coffee, this is fly fishing, repeat FLY FISHING.

Troot eat flees- full stop.

Some ancient Macedonian devoid of WiFi access managed to work this out- why can't you? (Please refer to "De Peculari Quandam Pisato indu Macedonia" written around 200 AD, probably not available for your Kindle, and in Latin. I told you this was a Masterclass).

The most important part of the deceit is the flee.

Still not got it?

Exercise Number 1

Get your thousands of pounds worth of clobber together, pay through the nose for access to a prime stretch of water, tackle up and cast away- without a flee on the end of your £4-a-metre-polyflurocarbonmicrofibre tippet.
Catch anything?

Exercise Number 2

Put your wellies on. Pochle a bamboo cane from a neighbour's garden, split some baler twine down to a fine thread, attach to cane, tie on the correct flee, and dangle it in the burn under the bridge.
Breakfast.

It's the flee, stupid.

So, to our point, how to choose the correct flee?

We will follow a hypothetical scenario (Masterclass, remember? Bound to be a lot of big words).

There will be no assumptions of class, wealth, politics, religion, or disposable income here. Whether your choice of lunchtime tipple be the "ginger", "Buckie" or a fine Claret is of no consequence. No article of your tackle is of any import whatsoever other than the flee!

The day of learning begins. You are the "Master Fly Selector" and your fishing partner  "The Numpty". You leave your accommodation and repair to your vehicle, eager to get on the water and into some troots. In the excitement the Numpty may well have lined his rod, tied on a flee, placed it in the keeper ring and lashed his set-up to the bonnet of the Bentley. How foolish. Ask him why he has made his choice of flee when you have several miles of driving across your estate before you attain the water. He will doubtless reply that he read an article in T&S that names this flee as the "killer" for this water- prat – the Master Fly Selector knows better, and the Numpty is suitable chastened.

On arrival at the water, the Numpty will again be eager to get a flee wet and begin his catching. Hold him back. Make him choose a flee. In all probability he will pluck a bedraggled item from his trusty fishing bunnet and pronounce it to be the one that has served him well this twenty years.

Exercise 3

Take a barbed, No.16 or smaller dreh flee of any pattern and impale it on a sample of Harris Tweed. Leave out in the rain for a season until the hook shows signs of rust. Now remove the flee from the tweed. For this you will require two pairs of 7 inch pliers. Note that the hook is now straight as a dressmaking pin, the barb clogged with wool fibres and the dressing stuck to the pliers. You also have a large hole in a very expensive piece of cloth.

Not going to catch much with that are you?

Choice of flee is not a matter of chance- wind direction and speed, air and water temperature, cloud cover, water level and much else all play a part. Once again there are any number of expensive bits of kit to help you out, no need you are the Master Fly Selector.

Wind Direction and Speed- wet an index finger and hold it up around eye level, wind direction has been determined. North, South, East and West are irrelevant – "from over there" will do. True experts will state "onshore" or "offshore" but "in yer face" or "up yer arse" are sufficient. Now pluck a small amount of grass and soil from the bank and toss it into the wind, watch carefully as it falls into your mug of tea, wind speed has been determined.

Air and Water Temperature. Spit on the back of your hand and hold it in the air to determine air temperature. Roll up you sleeve and dip your elbow into the water to determine water temperature. Don't think so? Generations of mothers have tested the suitability of baby's bottle by squirting the milk on the back of their hand, and the bathwater by dipping an elbow. In all probability your ancestors would have been starved or scalded without this skill, and you would not be alive today.

Cloud Cover. Any blue bits up there? If yes, Bright Day, if no, Dull Day.
Water Level. Tricky this one, it depends if you are on the loch or river. For the river wade to the spot where you last hooked a fish. If you are still more than a cast from the water - the river is low, if you are swimming for your life – the river is high. On the loch- if it will take a tractor to get the boat to the water you can assume that the level is low, if you will have to swim to the boat, assume high.

Sorted. Take all of the above into consideration and then "Choose a Flee!"

Again, the river/ loch conundrum bedevils us, but the answer is largely the same. On the river one must travel light, so our bag must be devoted to our piece and kerry-oot, our flee boxes will be in our multi-pocket jacket (or Parka, to give it its common name). In the boat a larger bag may be used = mair kerry-oot. Whichever, a minimum of seven flee boxes must be carried at all times (there is no known maximum). The size of the boxes is irrelevant, from a matchbox to a triple-fold 12x10" Wheatley it does not matter. What is important is that each MUST be full, how else would you be carrying enough to make an informed decision?

Secondly the boxes must not be labelled or coded in any way. This would tempt you to make a rash, ill-informed choice. Devoid of labels you must find and open each box in random order, and examine the contents before reverting to the third one you opened. It is always the third one, I don't know why, but it is, trust me.

As an aside, if you carry more than the minimum seven boxes, select and open the first at random. Cast it aside with disdain and a curse followed by declaiming "That is my New Zealand box, how did that get in here?"

Having determined the box, put on your glasses and examine each flee in turn. As with the boxes themselves the flees must NOT be labelled. Actually there is no point, none of your flies will be standard patterns. All must be "variants" and each variant pattern given to you by "Dave from the Test", "Jock on the Tweed" or similar. Oops, forgot to mention, all your flees have been self-tied or given to you by a highly-respected angler, you must never, ever buy a flee.

Choose two or three for closer examination (twelve or more if you intend to mount a three flee cast) place these in a regular line on your knee. The fly-patch on your jacket must never be used to store a flee that you intend to use, the patch is for complete duffer flees that have not, and never will, catch a fish. Placing them in such a prominent position will induce The Numpty to select similar patterns and fail to catch. Result.

Take each flee from your knee in turn, hold it up to the light, above your eye line, and turn it through all possible angles. Return the odd-numbered flees to the box and repeat this exercise until you have the required number of flees.

You will note that I have avoided the dry/wet/nymph debate. This has nothing to do with your choice of flee, or the tactic that you wish to deploy but governed by a simple test.

Exercise 4

Pour a small dram from your hipflask into the little cup provided on the top of the flask.
Hold it at shoulder height at full arm extension in front of you for 30 seconds.
Taste.
a) This could do with a splash to bring out the flavour- dreh flee.
b) Magic- wet flee.
c) Spillin on ma haun- nymph.

Now for the final, and ultimate lesson.
Whilst you have spent the better part of an hour carefully selecting your flee(s), the Numpty will have been catching on a regular basis. Congratulate him, and he will inevitably proffer you his flee or a similar pattern. Take it with thanks, and add it to your box. You now have another authentic "killer" pattern in your collection. Select a flee that is the exact opposite in all respects of the catching flee, tie on and cast.

Nae fish?
Whit yi moanin at?
Go back to the start- "Fly Selection Masterclass"- its wis never about catching.

Edited from the writings of the world expert Mr P Ross.

[Fishtales]

Bored Ken?  :lol: I know it has been a long wet day but I have to agree with most of that :crap

[Clan Chief]

I fair enjoyed that! 

[Wildfisher]

Very good!   :lol:

[bushy palmer]

 :applause brilliant!

[Inchlaggan]

and from a (reputed) flee fisher. 
Tie three copies of the two flees you last caught a troot with or suspect a fish came near.   (see Clan Chief's latest picture as a part example)

"reputed" ? My solicitor will be in touch!

"you last caught a troot with" ? Ah canne remember when I last caught a troot let alone with which flee!

"Clan Chief" ? Lightweight!
[attachimg=1]

[Billy]

Excellent!

Billy

[Inchlaggan]

which comprises 2 angles of emergers for when flies are hatching and the sedgehog for everything else, 2 or 3 of each should do it, rucksack for carrying fly boxes not required,

"2 angles" Which angles?  There are 360 degrees, my divider on the lathe is accurate to 1/100 of a degree, that give 36,000 angles to choose from. Which two?
Emergers? Which species? Let us say 100 species, just for argument's sake.
Colours? Your photograph shows a range, let us say 16, just for argument's sake.
Sedgehog? Which pattern? let us say a basic 2, plus ten variants of each, tied with a varaiety of materials, say a basic ten, just for argument's sake.
Hook size? Let us say from 8-20, 7 sizes, just for argument's sake.

Giving 8.064 to the power ten options.

For the slow of thinking, and on the basis of each flee weighing an unlikely 0.1g. This gives 8,064 metric tonnes of flees.
You are going to need more than a rucsac pal.
(there are various flaws in the logic and calculations above, but stuff it)

[Otter Spotter]

I have a vision in my head of a mid-50's man, thinning on top, slightly jowly, and a little overweight. He is struggling up a rocky path, through bamboo thickets and vines that attempt to hold him back. He is weighed down with Berghaus rucsac, 4 rod-tubes and a 38-pocket fishing waistcoat. Sweat lashes from his brow as he climbs ever upward, and his Simms breathable waders have long been discarded in the cloying forest heat.

As he climbs ever upward, the forest thins, and the bare granite top of the mountain becomes visible. As he nears the peak, he sees The Oracle - clad only in a bright orange robe, and sporting a long waxed moustache. The fisher approaches the boulder upon which The Oracle is perched, cross-legged. After a lifetime of silence, The Oracle reaches into his robe, pulls out a claret sedgehog, and utters the prophesy: "The Way of the Sedgehog preaches simplicity".

I'm going to get Spielberg to direct the film.

CB add a bit of random, brutal violence and send it off to Quentin Tarantino. I see Edward Norton or Kevin Spacey in the lead role as 'seeker'. Not sure that 'I clouted Marvin on the back o the heid wi a sedgehog', has quite the same impact as 'I shot Marvin in the face' but there is definitely potential.

[Inchlaggan]

A blockbuster feature film may be the way forward, I'd prefer a 26 x 1hr HD dramatised documentary series with plenty of CGI.

We begin.

Our man is just back home to Macedonia after helping Alexander the Great conquer most of the known world). Some stravaig that one was.
(note that Alexander shares the same middle name as Attila the Hun and Rupert the Bear)

His missus is giving him pelters over the state of his kit "blood, mud and more blood, how am I going to get that out!", the weans are banging the rocks on their Play Station and his heid is nippin.

He and a couple of mates take a bottle of matsika  (translation – Buckie) and head off to the water. Now, Claudius Aelianus (translation- Stan The Man, note same middle name) reckons they went down to the River Astraeus, but more recent research suggests they headed for Lake Ohrid famed for its Letnica Trout (translation- bandies).

Rummaging about in the bottom of his sac for his piece our man finds some of the gear he has choried on his travels, an Egyptian pin brooch and a dod of red cloth frae the Danube. The pin of the brooch is broken off, bent and impaled on a strand of cloth. He cannae give SWMBO a broken brooch and is about to chuck it in the loch, when the idea occurs.

Tying a dod of string to the end of his spear he dunks the bent pin and wool into the water. Slam! He is into a lunker!

The world is never the same.

He had a name for his flee "Hipporous" form the Macedonian "hippo" meaning "Peter" and "rous" meaning-------- aw work it out for yirsel'.

We do not know his name, because at that very moment Alexander comes over the hill and announces that this water is "upstream dreh fleh only" and chops our man's heid aff.

Alexander cops his whack, and the Greeks gub the Macedonians. Sadly for wild trout fishing, the Greeks are a seafaring nation and busy building thousands of ships just because some bint is a bit of a looker, so they have no time for fly-fishing.

The Greeks get gubbed by the Romans, who have to share their decent lochs with the Swiss. Nor are they interested in river fishing- they call one the Po, and you get done for even crossing the Tiber.

However they have learned from the Macedonians and, once again, go off on a mighty stravaig to find some decent troot fishing. And they do------- Scotland (obviously, and don't complain Fred, NZ has not been invented yet.)

The Romans also invent the concept of land ownership, and employ scribes to copy and distribute "Troutus and Salmonus". One Roman reader- Hadrian- (with a leaning toward salmon rather than troot) stotts off to the Borders and builds a muckle great wall to keep the peasants from his chosen river- the Tweed.
Antonine thinks troot are best and builds a muckle great wall to keep the numpties frae the Hielands, wise man.

Later, a sensible Welshman- Offa- will build a muckle great wall to keep the numpties out of some very nice troot waters.

The Romans are now well into fly-fishing and their empire goes all to cock.

Non-fly-fishing historians refer to the next period as the "Dark Ages"- bollocks!
A woman's place was in the home, the Lords tried their usual "get aff my land" nonsense until the peasants introduce the "Magna Carta" (translation- The Land Reform Act). Yes, there were some skirmishes about the fishing. It is no coincidence that one of the largest was over a nice wee troot stream near Stirling- Bannock BURN, but a man could fish and all was well.

Then, some dumb woman by the name of Juliana Berners gives the whole game away. All over t'interweb (and on Twitter and Facebook) she told the unwashed how to tie flees and catch troots. The game was up.

There would be other problems. Henry VIII fancied a wee cast over the weekend, but the monks were filling the waters with stocked carp and pike so the monasteries had to go. Also, the missus(es) was dead against a wee weekend straviag with the lads so she (they) had to go as well. That led to a few wee issues with the church.

It got worse, the next Numero Uno was a wumman! So it all went pear-shaped. Her rival, Mary QoS, was smarter though, and invented gowff to keep the numpties from the river, even when she wis put in jile she got a nice wee hoose on an island in the middle of Scotland's best troot loch. But, like our Macedonian friend, she fished the wet flee on a dreh flee only water and aff came the heid.

Thankfully, they next put a Scot in charge. But you ken us, give us a United Kingdom and we think we rule the world. Him and his weans and their weans reckoned they could go fishing divinely wherever and whenever they wanted including in Ireland on a Sunday. This led to a few problems with the church and they lost their heads/ jobs.

Next in charge were the Dutch- go on, name a decent troot stream or loch in Holland?

Then the Germans, see "The Dutch" above.

Bonnie Prince Shortbread had a wee go at getting it all back, and even had a cast or two on the gritstone burns of Derbyshire before chucking in the towel at Inverness and having a nice wee stravaig across the NW Highlands for a few months. He was also the first to introduce cross-dressing into the wild fisher's portfolio.

It all got boring again until another wumman got to be in charge. She and her pals decided that they wanted to own a' the troots, salming, grouses, and deers in Scotland and paid thousands of us to fanny about dressed like extras frae Brigadoon, marching through the heather, scaring birds, building fences, ripping the guts out of stags, and so on. BUT, only for two weeks a year- the rest of our time was our own- fishing time!

During this period we invented New Zealand, and moved all our best fish out there.

Back home mass communication and transport had been invented. Non-fishing, anally retentive, Scots invented the railroad, bridges, tar macadam, the telephone, television and much else that brought fly-fishing to the masses, and the masses to the troots and a' their shit with 'em.

BUT.

A secret society of online posters held true to the experience of the real stravaig, the tussle between man and wily troot, the high hills, the blank days, the wind, the weather, the midges, the flooers, the deid things, cheap whisky, expensive whisky that doubles as paint stripper, pies and dirty wimmin.

THEN.

One of them gives the secret away.

The Sedgehog.

Produced by The BBC Natural History Unit, Bristol
Introduced by Sir David Attenborough
Written, Directed and presented by Robson Green.
13 DVD set £230