THANK HEAVENS IT'S ALL OVER

Michael Wigan reflects on the unrestrained joy – and prolific catches – that marked the end of the angling lockdown

With lockdown restrictions eased at long last, the angling community are rejoicing that they can take to the water once more

We learnt over lockdown from zoos that various animals missed their admirers and became melancholy. More than one angler, bereft of fish to fish for, speculated on whether salmon too missed their admirers. The answer was clear when angling resumed on 29 May. Salmon wanted to meet their old associates very much indeed.

Rivers which had been accumulating springers since fishing stopped around 24 March saw some zippy stuff. The Halladale set an early start time and two anglers hooked salmon on their third cast.

On my home river the Helmsdale an erstwhile ghillie caught four without moving his feet. He lost two more and rose ‘a couple of dozen’. Two other anglers notched up 13 for their day. Shiny-eyed youngsters caught first fish. Salmon were caught over the whole river, all by local anglers, as political guidance granted permission to fish only for those not needing to travel far.

The most high-pitched scene I heard of was on the south bank of the Tweed where fishing was allowed earlier than in Scotland (didn’t you know, corona moves faster on one bank of a river than the other). A fisherman caught 15 springers in a session with anglers on the Scottish side gnashing their teeth, still disallowed from fishing.

Fisherfolk had been busy speculating on what would happen when our rivers re-opened. Many thought there would be big numbers days. Fish could not be ‘line-sick’; nothing would have swung past their noses since leaving the sea. Bumper catches were inevitable.

The fly fishing world is built around the concept of embedded over-fishing. An entire tackle industry is bent on persuading us to buy the magic fly that will rouse even a wary salmon that has seen flies reappearing like London buses. The prolific Helmsdale man mentioned above said of his four fish two had been in a long time. They were very far from ‘fresh off the tide’.

We all know the truth of it. Reading about huge catches of big salmon in Russian rivers we can momentarily forget that some seasons around the world are only six weeks long. Everything is fresh, none have seen flies. It is the knowledge that fishers have every chance of fulfilling the dream of meeting a salmon straight from the Barents Sea which lures dogged travelling fishermen through Murmansk Airport.

I was asked to fish on a trout loch last year where anglers never went. The owner liked his trout undisturbed. Gosh, what a grand angler I was for three hours! A basket filled with trout of impressive size. I lay soaking in the bath that night memorialising the intelligent technique I would need for future occasions.

The first time I saw Russia’s Kola Peninsula was when adventurous American fishing outfitters flew a party of intrepid anglers to remote tributaries. From the Ponoi main camp two of us were helicoptered to a glorious headwater, small-scale fly-water in trackless tundra. My fellow angler trotted down the little stream and caught nine. We still reminisce about our time on that forgotten river (no-one goes any more).

Another occasion I was in British Columbia in May on a steelhead trip. The snow was late and the river was frozen.

We debated long into the night in our fishing-camp, assembled the funds and hired a chopper to fly us downriver until the snowscape gave way to open water. On a big round pool Mark Birkbeck, founder of House of Bruar, started fishing short and fished longer and longer until he had covered every corner. He caught and unhooked fifty Dolly Varden trout. He never moved throughout the performance.

Fishing salves the soul. Inevitably, in a nation with plenty of soul, Scotland has more anglers than there is pristine water. Someone might ask the lucky anglers who got onto pristine fishing water at the lifting of lockdown whether the wait was worth it.

But I won’t trouble them. They are not making much sense yet.

Cooped-up anglers in Spring 2020 shared with those early industrial workers the same restlessness. Thank goodness it is all over.

“One erstwhile Helmsdale ghillie caught four without moving his feet, lost two more and rose a couple of dozen