Montana 2019 (part four – Madison, football Hyalite Lake)

So our final fishing day in this region was a lovely one – warmer and not too windy.  We set off to Quake Lake a little earlier.  On arrival the lake was like glass and we were so optimistic that we would be there for a good hatch.  This just didn’t happen for some reason.  We started out with hoppers but, in my eyes they didn’t look right on a flat calm surface so I changed immediately.  Kev called that he was into a fish – of course – on a hopper!  I went walking and only saw one fish, though it was a good sized rainbow.  I managed to get a decent cast and it took my fly.  It ran strongly and I could not stop it.  It went into a pile of weeds/logjam and I ended having to pull for a break.  Back with the others, Kev had managed another fish and missed a couple, whilst Doug had hooked a big fish but had his knot unfurl whilst playing it.

The plan had always been to go to the river for the afternoon so off we went.  First spot we’d been advised to try was Three Dollar Bridge.  From the main road, the river looked amazing and we were full of anticipation as we took the side road to the parking area.   It took us all of two seconds to realise this was not our spot as there were fourteen trucks parked there and anglers in the river both up and down stream.  Back onto the min road, and the next pull-in was not so busy.  The river looked good.  So, we set up there.  We changed leaders and tied new flies.  In the meantime I wandered over to chat to a young couple who were setting up an inflatable boat in order to drift the river. They both said the river was in great condition and I should expect plenty of fish with at least one of 20 inches.  Small flies would be good – and they proceeded to show me a size 10 Adams – I haven’t any of those larger than a fourteen!

I set up with my favoured Mladen Sedge and had a beautiful rainbow trout on a about my third or fourth speculative cast.  What a great start and enough to give us encouragement.  I made sure Doug had the right fly as he followed me up river.  Next fish I had was a smaller brownie and then I went some way before any more action.  I missed a couple of very fast takes – the river is extremely fast flowing, but it was a lovely spot to fish so I was loving it.  I then saw a fish rise further out than I had been concentrating on.  I lengthened my line and dropped the fly  ahead of where I thought the fish to be.  The take was instant and I didn’t need to set the hook as the fish did it for me.  It went right out into the current in one mad rush and I then wished I had used stronger than 5X tippet!  The fish was solid – whether in weed or a log I had no idea so I climbed out of the water and walked up the river to try to get beyond some trees on my bank and get the flyline above a couple of boulders.  Now, from an upstream position I managed to get some movement and soon the fish was in clear water.  The fight was then soon over, though, with no net, it was a hard task getting the fish to hand as the current in close was rapid.  The fish was spot on 20 inches….just as the young ones had suggested we should catch!

I didn’t need any more fish so walked back to see how Doug was going.  This was a bit more difficult for Doug and he struggled to get a decent line out and control its fast drift back towards him.  But he carried on manfully.

When I went back up to fish some more I was a bit put out when another angler came down the bank and proceeded to fish – about ten metres in front of me.  I was even more put out when on his fifth or sixth cast he had a decent fish on the end, though I think he lost it.  I made a noise so that he knew that I was there, and to be fair he apologised saying he hadn’t seen me.  But when he moved he only actually went another ten yards further up and started fishing again.  I went to chat with him.  He was from California and was dressed as if he was in the Arctic – he said he was freezing – we were all in shirt sleeves!  He showed me his rig – it was a similar set up to “drop-shotting” as he had a small length of nylon with about five or six split shot attached and his fly on a paternoster.  He was with his father who shortly after I moved on up caught a fish that he landed.  They seemed to pick a spot and fish it for an hour without moving.  Maybe they know better than we do.

I caught several more fish including two reasonable sized cutthroats from one small slack.  But, I had a serious encounter with a large rainbow in a small side stream just before we headed off.  The stream was shallow – no more than eighteen inches deep and it screamed fish – except that I caught nothing and saw nothing until I reached the very head of it.  The take was unmissable and the fight was long and hard.  The rainbow was stunning, and I struggled to keep it from leaving the side stream and heading off in the big flow into rapids below.  As the fish came to my hand, it flipped off the hook.  A shame that I didn’t get a chance to photograph it as it was probably the best looking fish of the trip!  But there is a photograph in my head.  I don’t remember having a harder fight from any fish I have caught!  Kev and Doug joined me and fished a few small streams but, they were ready to pack up.  Kev had caught some really good whitefish so was happy.  Doug admitted it too tough for him!

When we left the river we stopped at a bar that seemed pretty popular.  It was such a quirky place!

Kev and Doug outside :”Happy Hour Bar”

It was called “Happy Hour Bar” and inside there were photographs adorning the walls – some of rather scantily clad young ladies, and in another part a load of bare backsides. Also, spread out on the rafters were various bits of clothing!  It was also the venue, so it seemed for the local guides as a group of them were sitting chatting in an alcove.  We had a couple of beers, and I had to have a chat with the guides…

Josh was the head guide and was really happy to chat – after he’d finished his meeting.  They all worked at a camp on the other side of Hebgen Lake, and they were just three days from the end of their season.  They only start it in June – occasional they can get a few days in during May, and finish come end of September – so much shorter than ours, so they need to “make hay…” as they say.  But, with tipping as generous as it is in U.S.A. they do ok.  I am always amazed about tipping – it is something that causes a lot of issues when we fish in Cuba.  As a nation we just don’t do it!  And, find it hard to understand why others do.

Back at camp we had a lovely fire to cook our lamb steaks on.  This was a real treat for our last wilderness night.

We packed up camp in the morning and drove to Bozeman, setting up at the luxurious Hot Springs Campsite.  We certainly made use of the springs, which were fantastic.  On the Sunday night as we lazed in the hot pools there was a fabulous band playing live music – what a treat, under the stars!

But, I digress.  Saturday we had tickets for a college football game kindly given us by friends of Doug and Tracy.  We took in the whole razzmatazz and had a lovely day.  Even the usually calm Doug became animated at the football game! Thankfully, for his blood pressure, his beloved Montana State team won, though there were a few anxious moments in the first half!  Entertainment it certainly was, but so odd that absolutely no alcohol is allowed or available in the ground, though you could do your heart a world of trouble with all sorts of fatty and sugary food and drinks!

We had an interesting couple of hours in town – tried two bars and met some lovely locals.  We even had a couple of games of pool.  But, back to the hot springs to end the day and plan for last day of fishing on the trip.

On Sunday morning we dropped in to the local tackle shop “Fins and Feathers” another massive shop with tackle, clothing, fly tying kit and to die for.  Boy do the shops in America cater for every branch of the sport, but especially for fly fishers.  The guys there suggested that the Madison was our best bet, in spite of my choice being the Gallatin.  They suggested that the Gallatin was running dirty, so we took their advice and headed for Bear Trap Canyon.  The drive was awesome as the air was so clear.

The countryside here was much “softer” than where we had been for the last few days.  The river looked fantastic….but, it was “infested’ with drift boats.  Later, once fishing, although I couldn’t see him as the banks were overgrown, Kev had a right “barney” with one of the guides in a drift boat that came right into where Kev was fishing. The guide at one point offered to come ashore and “sort it out man to man”!  Interesting situation.  Doug was not far away, and maybe, his presence was enough to stop the guide taking this drastic action, or maybe the fact that he had clients in the boat did it!  Certainly not very friendly behaviour!

We fished a spot well below the canyon and had odd fish, but then moved on up to the Bear Trap!  Beautiful, awesome, grand scenery.  What must the original settles have made of this area?  Wilderness America takes some beating.

The fishing in the canyon was too tough for us!  The wading was all but impossible and the flow of water was fierce.  I managed two or three cutthroats and Doug had a fish, but highlight here was the bald eagle circling overhead as I fished!  It went in to rest on a crag opposite, but, when I returned to the truck for my telephoto lens it had gone.

It being so tough, we decided to head to an alpine lake – we hadn’t fished one of these and as there was one back the other side of our campsite we headed off.  Hyalite Lake is really high in the mountains and snow remains on the peaks most of the summer – there was certainly plenty when we arrived there. The place was a “playground” – campers, walkers, kayakers, cyclists and plenty of fishermen.  We went to the far end where the stream flows in and set up for our last hour or so of fishing for the trip.  It was a struggle and we could have admitted defeat.  I walked a long way round the west shore, whilst Kev and Doug went round the east shore.  One rapid rise was all that I managed.  We ended back at more or less where we started and decided to fish “English style” with a small pheasant tail and a small buzzer.
I started getting takes and ended up with three cutthroats – two of which were decent sized and hard fighting.  Doug managed a little fella and Kev a couple of takes.

We walked back to the truck and admired a family of mule deer grazing on the paddock opposite.  On our drive down the valley as light was dropping, we had the most wonderful view of an enormous bull elk – enormous head of antlers.  Annoyingly I had been going through photographs on my Nikon and only just turned it off an put it on the floor.  I clicked a couple of fuzzy pictures, but, in the light and with so little time they are not worth putting up.

So ended a wonderful trip.  The fishing was varied – from the easy or rather “comfortable” fishing on the Blackfoot, to the challenging fishing on the Madison.  We had some fun on lakes, saw a plethora of wildlife, got a good impression of the state of Montana, and even took in football – America’s greatest game.

I must thank Doug and Tracy for all they did to make the trip a success, and Kev for providing the (mostly untuneful) singing and (uncoordinated) dancing throughout! Three weeks in the RV and barely a cross word…only the fishing guide at Bear Trap persuaded Kev into that!

To next USA Roadtrip…Look out Doug….

Montana September 2019 part two Rock Creek

We had one more day on the Blackfoot and I must say we really enjoyed the fishing.  The river is really accessible and in many places easily waded.  I should say a little about how we generally fished.  Doug has a four-weight rod, I loaned Kev my three-weight an I used my one-weight until it broke.  Our preference is, not surprisingly, dry fly.  Thankfully, most days saw some hatches and even if nothing was on the water a dry drifted over a likely spot would often produce a fish.  Locals like to prospect with hoppers and, we did have odd fish on them, but, I have  feeling that all of the hoppers that I tied were on the small side.

When there was a hatch under way it was either trico or larger olives – occasionally blue winged olives.  The trico feeders were our favourite fish to target as I have a good supply of flies that work well.  The pattern that I use in Ireland for caenis feeders is perfect on the rivers, and it is rare that if you get a good cast in it fails to produce a take. An alternative was a small plume tip.  For prospecting we would either fish a sedge – I particularly like the pattern that Mladen Mercas introduced me to in Croatia, or some type of Klinkhammer – but reasonably small.  We all used tapered leaders to about a 4X and then another few feet of 5X or 6X.

We headed off to Rock Creek via the small town of Avon, where we met Tracy who brought us fresh supplies, there being few supermarkets in the area we were camping.  We had a light snack and coffee in a cafe before heading off.  The drive was pretty spectacular – at first following a railway line and then the Clark Fork river.  This was carrying plenty of water, and in places was really coloured, but we still saw odd drift boats on it.

We found our campsite and set up the R.V. and then headed to the coffee shop and the fishing tackle dealer.  We had good advice from the young fellow in charge.  So, we headed upstream for an evening on Rock Creek.

Wading was difficult, this was a totally different prospect to wading the Blackfoot!  The creek is steep and so the water flow is rapid.  There are few shallow areas, and almost no sandy parts.  There was little evidence of flies hatching and so I opted for a sedge.  I rose a small fish fairly soon, and did get a cast on a couple of fish that popped up for something on the surface and then caught a small cutthroat to “open my account” on Rock Creek.

I went to check on Kev and Doug and found that they too were struggling – as much with the wading as anything.  I made my way slowly up the creek and eventually decided to just concentrate on the pockets close to the bank.  This produced three small browns and another cutthroat, although I must have missed another dozen, all small.

I called it a day when I reached a point that I had to get out and take to the road.  It was a lovely walk back.  Kev was still fishing but had caught, Doug had packed up.  We soon headed back to the campsite – spotting some wild turkeys on our way, and had our meal, a beer and game of cribbage….Doug usually “gets his own back” on us playing that card game….

Day two was a little disappointing as we could barely find any water to fish.  This creek, it seems, is world famous and because of that it was so busy.  Each time we found a free parking area and went to fish, there would be one, two and sometimes three anglers wading and fishing already.  We fished here and there with modest success, and ended up not really liking this creek.  Maybe we didn’t see it at its best. Maybe we just didn’t go far enough upstream!  I had corresponded with Larry Urban who does Saturdays in the Orvis store in Helena, and a couple of days later I was to do a day in the shop tying flies and chatting with customers.  Larry told me then that we really should have gone another few miles further up.  Wish I’d thought to phone him when we were there at the creek!  Next time?  I did have a mad half hour as it was getting dark, and landed three lovely fish where a small creek came into the main river.  Doug also came into that area and also had a couple of good fish, so we weren’t totally “scuppered”.

We decided to fish the creek near the campsite on the final morning and we had some better fishing there.

We all took some decent whitefish (why do they not like these fish in America?) and we also had  brown trout and a couple of cutthroats.  But, we were to head back to Helena, and so we packed the kit and left for the city.

Next day I worked in the shop – well, not really worked, more restocked my fly box!  Had a lovely lunch in “Ben and Ernie’s”, and spent the early evening in a local brewery.  So, batteries recharged we headed to Beaver Creek part of the Mighty Mo (Missouri River).

The day (a Sunday) was hot, and grasshoppers were everywhere.  I thought it wise to fish a hopper, but, even after a walk of about a mile and a half, I saw only a couple of rises far out.  Certainly nothing was happening close in where you would expect action.  Highlight of the walk was a close encounter with a rattle snake.  Not being used to these creatures in England, I heard this “rattling” noise and went to look into the large hole that it was coming from.  I spotted the snake and immediately called for Kev to come and see it.  I could see that its head was disappearing into a crack and so it was unable to turn and strike;  sadly it had all but gone into the crack before Kev reached the hole.

On Monday  we travelled a long way – towards Yellowstone, though we were not planning on going into the park.  Tracy had sorted us a campsite on the edge of Hebgen Lake.  We had planned to fish that evening – after setting up the camp, but there was a heavy thunderstorm, so instead we saved ourselves for the next day.

 

 

Montana, September 2019 (Part one Blackfoot river)

3rd September Kev and I arrived at Bristol Airport for our long trek to Helena, Montana.  Things didn’t start too well when the KLM flight was announced as being delayed.  Things worsened as the delay became longer, but eventually there we were, boarding.  Unfortunately, the stewardess told us that we were going to miss our flight to Minneapolis and told us what we should do when we reached Skiphol.

There was no alternative flight and the best KLM could do was put us on a flight the following day – to Salt lake City, where we would catch our connecting flight.  We were given vouchers for a night in an hotel nearby and also for a meal.  We took our time, had the inevitable Heineken and went to catch the bus.  The hotel was pretty modern, but soul-less.  There was no alternative.  So, a wasted day to start our fishing trip!

Next morning early we caught the bus back to the airport and had a basic breakfast with the vouchers given us (they barely covered even a simple bacon roll with coffee!), and checked in.  A quick trip to Duty free and then on to our flight.  That all went well enough and in rather a long time, we were at Salt lake City.  Boy is the lake large – and salty!  It appeared to be pure white as far as you could see.

The lay-over was not too bad, but made pretty memorable by Kev having his splendid bottle of gin taken from him at the customs post before boarding due to the bottle not being clear glass!  That was thirty odd quid not so well spent!  We caught our flight to Helena.  On this leg of the journey we were a bit worried to see a couple of wild fires down below, remembering that two years ago many areas were unfishable due to these wild fires.  But, the whole trip proved pretty free of fires, so we had no need to be worried.

Doug and Tracy were there at Helena awaiting our arrival, and soon we were being made welcome at their lovely house in Helena.  Gin and tonics in hands, and a lovely meal were such a welcome

So, a day later than we hoped, we set off into Helena to buy our licences, pop into the local Orvis store and stock up on all that we needed for our road trip.  Not much in the way of groceries was required as Doug and Tracy had sorted that well in advance of our arrival.  Later that day we hit the road, and first stop to set up camp was Aspen Ground Campsite.  This was a basic site, really cheap as the only facilities were toilet blocks, but that suited us.  Camp set, we headed onto the river….  This was the big attraction, the site was right next to the Blackfoot river.

Kev and Doug headed upstream, I went downstream.  First access point, and the river here was clear, fairly fast and small, there was a pretty obvious lie on the opposite bank, small bush overlapping the water, slowed current, so, with my Mladen Sedge, first cast produced a flash, but no take – maybe  bit of drag!  Next cast, with an upstream mend, and there he was, first fish of the trip – a Westslope Cutthroat.

Feisty little fellow!  I carried on down and had a lovely short session with one memorably large fish – almost twenty inches, which took one long time to land, this fish took the Opti.  Another pool held a good number of fish, where I caught first on a dry then I had to resort to a bead-head to get down to them.  I managed two or three from this deep pool.

I guess I fished about two hours before thinking I ought to get back to see how the other two had coped – we were only having  quick look after all.  I arrived at the site to find the pair sitting in camp seats….fast asleep.  Fished out after just one short session.  They’d actually seen nothing (apart from fresh bear scat!) and certainly caught nothing.

Next day we headed well down the river – to Sperry’s Crossing.  Here the river was big, and it was difficult wading.  Drift-boats passed us at regular intervals, but, they are all polite, one even asking which side of the river I would like him to pass.  The final one, I spoke with and he told me that they had been having good sport on an October Caddis – a fly I had no knowledge of.  Later, he stopped and gave Doug a couple of these flies, so at least I could look at them and maybe tie some.  They were BIG!  I only caught one rainbow – really small, and that was on small nymphs.  I dropped back to see the others.  Doug had changed onto the October caddis and immediately moved four fish, but they hadn’t taken the fly.  I changed back to Mladen sedge and rose a couple of small fish, the had a lovely small brown trout.  I headed off to see Kev, who had caught a nice Westslope.  I dropped in behind him and shortly caught a large Westslope – 20 inches plus, and boy, that took some playing in the current on my one-weight!

That just about did it for the day.  We stopped at “Trixi’s Bar” on the way back – what a lovely spot.  We had a couple of ales, a good chat with the bar staff, and the boys had their chicken wings (buffalo over in USA of some reason) then headed back upriver.

We stopped at an access point and fished again.  Doug wasn’t too fussed to fish, but Kev and I had some fish.  We chatted to a couple of guys from out of state.  They told us we should fish Rock Creek after this river, as we would enjoy that place.  I even had a slug of their delightful Jamesons!  Shortly after we chatted to a young couple coming off the water – this was oft repeated on this trip – couples, especially in their twenties fishing together…  They had caught about  dozen fish on “small” hoppers in streamy water.  I asked what “small” was and they showed me a fly of about two inches…I’d hate to try the large ones.

Day three we drove just past Lincoln and all tied some new leaders, fresh tippets and flies.  This session was fantastic with all catching plenty – a good rise started after an hour and a half, and so we were covering fish, and still getting odd ones “blind”.  As Doug had caught a couple of good fish Kev and I left him to it and went for a long stroll up river.  We had a great time seeing fish in many pools and catching moving fish and trying good looking riffles to catch others.

Time for some lunch so we went back to see Doug and get the food from the truck.  We ate next to the first large pool where Doug had caught some nice fish, and been broken by one.  Someone suggested that I try a nymph in the pool to see if that would work.  First shot I had a big whitefish…that was the first one we had seen.  I wanted to walk Kev up to the large riffle that I had caught several in earlier, and so we chatted and walked up to it.  We caught a few on the way, arrived, just as the thunder started to roll in.  But, we fished a short while and in that time Kev managed six fish!  Doug was really worried for our safety and had come to take us back.  It had been a splendid day and we were more than happy to “obey instructions” and soon we were sitting in “The Bush-wackers” in Lincoln. Lovely food, an amazingly

 hospitable landlord; all just about the right way to end a great day on the Blackfoot river.

Day four we decided to try Monture Creek, but it was coloured from the thunderstorm the night before, so back to the Blackfoot.  We tried a nice looking spot and caught a few fish, but not a lot was happening.  We fancied trying our good spot from the day before, but stopped at another pull-in before we reached it.  The river here looked good and so we went for it.  Doug and I sat on a log chatting, watching the river and waiting to see if the rain was going to hit us.  We saw odd fish rise, and gradually, as the rain moved off, more and more fish showed.  So, we crossed the stream and started to fish Doug was in pretty quickly, so after photographs, I went to the next pool and had a couple of small fish on the small plume-tip.  I brought Doug here and immediately he caught.  I left him there as he was happy to keep trying as fish were rising well.  I wandered off and had a great session with a variety of methods and flies.  Sadly the final fish I had, I hooked on a beetle pattern – first cast with it, only for my one-weight rod to bust on the butt section.  So, my day was finished. The others were happy to move off too.

Grayling in Croatia

Regular client Marc Freeman asked if I would set up a trip to Slovenia for him.  He had a precise weekend available (wife heading off to a hen weekend at a music festival) and so I started looking around.  I just happened, shortly after the request, to bump into Ryan Billic, a friend of Alan’s and he originated in Croatia, and suggested that if I wanted to try that country he could help me to set up the trip.  He also knew “the best” guide in Croatia.

Grayling on the Kupa have large tails

The Croatian grayling have huge tails

 

So, I went with his advice, sorted out flights, accommodation and off we set.  Everything went smoothly for the three of us (I should have said that Paul invited himself along on the trip) and we soon arrived in Brod na Kupi, the small village near to where we were staying.  We shopped for a few provisions and then headed to our accommodation.  This was where the first problem arose.  Our village was so small that we passed though it in about the blink of an eye, but we couldn’t find house number 17.  Three times round and also down a couple of side roads, and still no sign.  Fortunately the owner of our house saw us and came out to greet us…in Croatian.  Zdravko was pleasant enough and being the brother of the fishing guide, phoned Mladen and asked him to come and meet us.  We were then shown to our rooms….only Zdravko seemed to think that we would like to share a room!  Yes, all three in one small bedroom.  It seems that is the custom in the country.  It took a lot of persuading to make him let us have three separate rooms!

Paul, Mladen (guide) and Marc

Paul, Mladen and Marc

 

Brother and fishing guide Mladen arrived and we talked fishing, compared flies, and had a couple of glasses of the compulsory sliivovica – the local “rocket fuel” that poses as an alcoholic drink!

We then walked the short distance behind the houses to see the river.  It was a pretty sight.  The Kupa is quite large at this point even though it is only a few kilometres from the source.  We saw a few fish rising and fancied popping back later to have a fish, unfortunately, our meal took a little longer to get sorted and so it was too dark when we were ready to fish.

WE started on the tributary of the Kupa the next morning – the delightful Kupice.  This river screamed fish to us.  Malden took off downstream with Marc, whilst Paul and I set off upstream.  Wading was tricky enough and Paul struggled so told me to carry on.  I fished loads of lovely pools and likely spots without an offer and it was only on reaching the first sweeping bend that I spotted a pair of anglers about two hundred metres upstream….this explained why I had had no action, the fact that the pools had already been fished!

thumb_P7080375_1024

The clear fast water of the Kupice

 

I headed back to Paul and we crossed to the even smaller stream to the north – not sure if it was named.  We gave this one about an hour but again saw nothing.  I dropped back to the mill pool that forms at the junction.  Here there were some impressive currents and likely looking areas for holding fish, and sure enough I spotted a huge grayling.  It had a brief glance at the dry I had on, but no movement second or third casts.  So I changed the fly for a small pheasant tail nymph with tungsten bead.  Second cast was on the fish and it moved to intercept it and I lifted to feel resistance.  The large grayling headed into the current and in the clear water I could see that my “grayling” had changed into a very large chub!  In the shadowy water I had presumed the fish to be a grayling!  However I was not unhappy at landing a four-pound plus chub as my first fish in Croatia.

Soon after this we met up with Marc and Mladen who had worked their way back to the cars having caught two very small grayling and seen little else.  Mladen suggested a drive further upstream and so Paul and I followed.  When we caught up with the pair, they told us that the spot even further upstream that Mladen wanted to fish was already being fished by up to six anglers.  We hoped that this was not going to be the pattern for the few days there.  Again Paul and I went up, whilst Marc and Mladen went down.  This stretch was a stunning piece of water and soon I was into my first grayling – a fish of around a pound.  I dropped back and let Paul have the pool and he soon caught a similar sized fish.

Kupa grayling

Beautiful fish in beautiful surroundings

 

 

Paul and I took turns hopping past each other and managed to catch a couple more smaller grayling, but now it was time to go to Ryan’s house for a barbecue.  This was a splendid occasions at which we were treated royally.  WE were served a variety of Croatian sausages, meats and potatoes accompanied by some fantastic salads, and great wines.  After the early start, the travelling the day before, and the wine, combined with such warm (over thirty centigrade) weather a relaxing end to the day was called on, but instead we headed back to the river – this time near to Ryan’s house it was the Kupa.

I went downstream and fished up some rapids, Mladen took Marc back to the morning’s venue to try for a Huchen, and Paul took a siesta!  I caught a couple of small, beautifully marked brown trout, several grayling and had a great short session.  Marc struggled as to fish for huchen a  heavy outfit was used but they saw nothing anyway.

Next day we started even earlier as we wanted to be back to our accommodation for breakfast and the third Lions test match from New Zealand.   We managed a few grayling and small trout, and were ready for breakfast and rugby by nine o’clock.  The game ended in a draw, we then became tourists and went to the coast.  Driving to the coast we stopped a few times to take photographs and enjoy various views.  We had a decent and reasonably priced meal right by the sea then went touring a few more harbours before heading back for a bit more fishing. In the evening we fished the main river at the confluence of the Kupice.  Marc had a splendid time catching several grayling, a couple of trout and a few small chub, all on dry fly.

Olive nymph on Kupice

One of the large nymphs found under the stones in rivers of Croatia

 

 

Sunday was our “special” day fishing in the National Park.  The fee here was a bit more than the usual cost, though still cheap in the scheme of things.  I think a normal ticket on the rivers was around 23 euros, but it went up to 28 or 30 for the National Park.  The river in the park was spectacular and we all caught some splendid grayling.  Most fish were caught on dry fly, but a few were taken on nymphs whenever the fish spotted wouldn’t come up on top.  There were several pools that reminded me of fishing in the tropics for bonefish.  Shallow, as clear as gin and big grayling sitting on station so that you could target one fish at a time.  We had a long session of fishing before heading up to one of the local houses which doubles as a restaurant where we had a feast!  The owner brought us a fabulous tomato salad, and then a huge plate of pork steaks and chips.  All the time there was ice-cold beer available!  We were joined by a couple of Italian anglers who had just completed their second day of fishing and were going to eat and then drive back to Italy.  They told us that on the previous day they had caught about fifty grayling each – up to three pounds plus!  Today had been poor and they had “only”  caught about twenty each!  Isn’t it strange how expectations differ between people.  As a group I think we had maybe twenty between us at the lunch break (in truth it was about three o’clock in the afternoon) and we were absolutely delighted!

River Kupa near its source

Our first view of the Kupa in the National Park – close to its source.

 

 

We fished on until around eight and headed back.  We maybe had another twenty in the afternoon, but probably didn’t!  But, we all agreed that it was a fantastic place and we would be more than happy to return and give it another go.

Next morning we fished a few hours as it was back to the airport.  I went well downstream on the Kupa and fished a really fast run with a dry sedge of Mladen’s tying.  I had about seven or eight fish from a ridiculously fast riffle, but then failed hopelessly on the long smooth flat water on my way back to meet the others.  A few grayling were taken by all before we set off for showers and the drive back to Zagreb.

Mladen guiding Marc in National Park

Mladen guiding Marc in the National Park.

 

 

I can highly recommend the area we stayed at and with the amount of fishing available it would be difficult to get to it all on a five day trip.  We really only had three days fishing, but made the most of it.

Most of our fish were taken on dries.  My best was a size eighteen or twenty pardon de Meana.  A simple imitation of an olive.  The others stuck with the sedge that Mladen suggested.  Small pheasant tail nymphs were also useful.  We fished light leaders – I was on 0.12mm whilst Mark stuck with 0.14mm.  4-weight rods were used by Paul and Marc but I stuck to my one-weight.

Copyright © Martin Cottis