River Tweed - Lower Birgham 10/3/16
It was the middle of February and since the River Tweed had opened at the beginning of the month, very few days had been fishable due to the unsettled water conditions. Both my wife and I had been looking at the long-range weather forecast and there appeared to be a window of settled weather coming up. I made a quick phone call to our good friend Tom Davies, head ghillie on the Lower Birgham beat of the River Tweed to see how conditions were. Tom was as enthusiastic as ever and advised that we should book some fishing towards the middle part of the week, as the water was still high. With the weather set to be dry and cold, this would hopefully allow the water to drop in the upcoming days.
Wednesday morning dawned cold and clear. It was very frosty when we left home at around six-thirty. We were both really looking forward to the day ahead. We have been fishing the Lower Birgham beat for a number of years and the entire experience is always one to cherish. Tom and Ryan (the beats second ghillie) have become very good friends. As we drove over the Forth Road Bridge, we were greeted by the most amazing sunrise. It was one of those views that made you just glad to be alive. We headed towards Kelso, through the rolling countryside. In the distance, we could see the stunning Eildon hills, with their tops covered in snow.
The picturesque view from the hut
We arrived at the beat just before nine and were greeted by big smiles from both Tom and Ryan. We had only seen them three weeks prior, when they had attended our opening day gathering on the River Tay at Dalmarnock. It was music to our ears when Tom said that conditions were perfect and that the beat had produced a fish the previous day. After a quick coffee and the usual banter being exchanged, mostly at my expense, we set up the rods. As the water was still quite high, we decided to build up both fly and spinning rods. I decided to use my sixteen-foot fly rod with a sink tip line and a Posh Tosh copper tube. My wife opted for a similar set up with her fifteen-foot fly rod. Her weapon of choice was a gold-bodied Willie Gunn. On both spinning rods, we decided to go with our trusty Vision110s.
It was agreed that Tom and myself would fish together on the bottom part of the beat in the morning and my wife and Ryan would fish the upper beat. After the usual trading of insults between my wife and I around who was going to catch more fish, we were ready to go!
Ready for action
Peering over the boat as we crossed the river, I could see that the water was gin clear. The day ahead was filled with optimism and promise. Tom suggested that we fished the Bell Rock pool first. The Bell Rock is a stunning pool. It has a decent flow at the head and as you move further down there is a massive submerged rock in the middle of the river. This is from where the pool gets its name. The rock throws up tantalising boils around which the fish lie. I started fly fishing, with Tom expertly manoeuvring the boat. I fished hard and covered every inch of the pool to the best of my ability. I was surprised that I did not get a pull, as the fly was swinging round tantalisingly.
The productive Bell Rock pool
Tom then suggested that we move further downstream and fish the White Addy pool. This is another nice pool and because of the higher water, had a nice flow running through it. The sun was now well up in the cloudless blue sky above and it was feeling very pleasant for mid-February. Upstream, I could see my wife with Ryan in the other boat thrashing the water to a foam! Had she fared any better, surely not?
Tom suggested that we tried spinning. It was mid-morning by now and we still had not seen a fish, which was surprising. I had been spinning for around half an hour while putting the world to rights with Tom when I got a savage take. The rod was almost ripped out of my hand. Tom rowed the boat towards the bank but the fish was having none of it. It just started to strip yards and yards of line from my reel at an alarming rate, tearing off downstream. Finally, I managed to gain some control of the fish, after turning its head. The fish then came towards me but stayed deep in the water. It did not feel like a massive fish but was certainly powerful. I managed to slowly coax the fish towards the bank where Tom was standing with the net. I caught my first glimpse of the fish as it rolled on the surface of the water. It was so silver that the sun was glinting from its bright scales. This had to be a springer hadn’t it? After some thrashing on the surface of the water, Tom expertly netted the fish and peered at it in the net. He then looked up and gave me a big thumbs up. I knew what this meant; I had finally got off the mark for the season. The fish was a lovely sea liced springer around seven pounds in weight. After a quick photograph, the fish was released unharmed to carry on with it's journey upstream. I was over the moon and so was Tom. After a quick phone call to my wife, which involved a lot of gloating, we went back out in the boat again.
A nice Tweed springer
By now we were fishing the last pool on the beat the Know End. We had not been fishing for more than twenty minutes when I got another take. The lure had just landed in the water close to the rock face towards the far bank and I must have only turned the reel handle twice when my rod buckled. Initially, the fish stayed deep and was not for moving. It very quickly appeared to tire and after a short run, Tom netted what definitely did not look like a salmon. The fish was a cracking five-pound brown trout. It had stunning speckled flanks, as if an artist had painted them. After a quick picture, the fish was returned to fight another day.
By now it was almost lunchtime, so we decided to head back up to the hut. Looking upstream, I could see my wife's boat at the bank. Beside her, Ryan was standing with the net. This could only mean one thing; she must be playing a fish. As we travelled upstream getting ever closer to my wife, I could see something glinting in the sun. I said to Tom that this was unlikely to be a kelt. Tom just started laughing, as he is well aware of how competitive we both are. Was my wife going to steal my thunder? When we got to where Ryan and my wife were, we could see that they both had huge smiles on their faces. The fish in the net was a cracker. My wife had managed to catch a stunning sea liced nine-pound sea trout.
A stunning sea trout
To celebrate what could only be described as a fantastic morning, we all enjoyed cream cakes the size of Blackpool Tower at lunchtime! To be honest, after consuming my cake, all I wanted to do was have a snooze on the comfy looking settee in the warm confines of the hut. Unfortunately, Tom was having none of it as he felt there were more fish to be caught. It was decided that we would swap around and Tom would take my wife out in the afternoon and I would team up with Ryan. Ryan and I would be fishing the top part of the beat.
Ryan thought that we would have a good chance fishing the Merk Skelly pool, as it can often be productive when the fish are running. Merk Skelly is a lovely pool. It is quite fast flowing and has a number of big boulders on the riverbed, behind which fish lie. Ryan felt that I should persist with the spinning rod. I was fishing away, chatting to Ryan about his plans for the summer. We must have been fishing for around forty minutes and we had almost come to the tail of the pool, when something hit my lure hard. I lifted the rod and I was into another fish. This fish felt much heavier than the last one but immediately started to shake it's head. Ryan expertly manoeuvred the boat into the bank and dropped anchor. At that precise point, the fish started to come towards me at a ferocious pace. I struggled frantically trying to keep tension on the line. The fish then stopped and I could feel it's head shaking violently again. All of a sudden the line went slack and the fish was gone. I was gutted; as from the initial fight, the fish felt heavy. We started fishing again and Ryan encouraged me, saying that we would get another opportunity. Ryan felt that it might be worthwhile fishing the same pool from the opposite side. We crossed the river in the boat and continued spinning. It was now mid-afternoon and the sun was just beginning to dip below the hills. I continued to fish hard. Around three-quarters of the way down the pool, I felt the line tighten and my rod bent briefly. I continued to reel steadily, and then all of a sudden I felt an almighty thud. I lifted the rod and a fish was on. The fish must have hit the lure twice whilst following it across the river. All hell broke loose. The fish tore off towards the far bank stripping yards of line from my reel. Ryan managed to get the boat into the bank and drop the anchor. The fish just hugged the far bank and for around ten minutes there was little I could apart from maintain adequate tension on the line. I managed to coax the fish towards the boat but it then decided to go upstream producing one long steady run. I turned the fish and it quickly came towards where Ryan was standing with the net. I managed to get a glimpse of the fish as it surfaced. I could see the lure, perilously hanging out from it's mouth. It was a nerve-racking sight. I just wanted to get the fish safely into the net. Ryan waded out with the net and as the fish surfaced for a second time, he made no mistake. With one swift movement, the fish was ours. I gave a yelp of joy when I saw the fish. It was another sea liced springer, weighing around seven pounds. Both Ryan and I were shaking as the adrenaline coursed through our veins. We managed to get a couple of nice pictures before the fish was released. What a day it had been, two springers and a nine-pound sea trout.
A fin perfect Tweed springer
The light was now beginning to fade and the temperature was dropping fast. Downstream, I could see my wife and Tom coming back towards the hut in the boat, so we decided to call it a day. We all sat in the hut enjoying a hot cup of coffee and reflecting on what had been a truly memorable day. We agreed (me grudgingly of course) that my wife’s big sea trout had stolen the show. It is very rare to get upstaged after catching two springers on a February day but my wife somehow managed it. Tom and Ryan found this hilariously funny!
The sun setting on a memorable day at Lower Birgham
On our way home, I reminded my wife that now we had caught two salmon each for the season, the scores between us were level. Unfortunately, she was having none of it, as she believed that her sea trout had put her well ahead of me. My wife also said that I was unlikely to catch a sea trout bigger than hers through the course of the year. I just reminded her that we were only in February and in front of us stretched along season ahead. Competition between husband and wife, bring it on!