Jim

Jim considers the value of bling in a fly, versus bland.

One of the things that has always amazed me is how some trout flies seem to be forever, whilst others go in and out of fashion cyclically.

In my early years chasing trout way back in my early 20s, I was an enthusiastic proponent of night fishing with a very large Alexandra wet fly. Bob Roles (who later joined me in partnership in the tackle trade) worked at Turvilles at the time, in North Melbourne. During the 1960s, it was the very best store for flyfishing supplies. The founder, Maurie Turville, had dropped dead from a heart attack whilst on the Red Tag Flyfishing Club’s casting board one Sunday a year earlier, and his nephew Jack Turville had taken over the management of the store.

Turvilles employed a commercial fly-tier named Joe, who, if my memory serves me correctly, was a very large specimen of a man, with unbelievably huge hands. It was a wonder he could even tie a fly! But he could, and he produced some amazing patterns. Back in those days, the Alexandra used by Bob and me as a night fly, was tied on a large, handmade, low-water salmon hook of size 6 or 8, produced by Partridge of Redditch in England. The low water hook was designed for salmon anglers in the UK and didn’t sink fast like normal salmon fly hooks at the time. I don’t think they’re even made today, but I’m sure the reader could find something equivalent. The hook had a wide-ish gape, and the fly was dressed with a silver body made from tinsel, then ribbed with silver oval wire, and then the wing was covered with a bunch of peacock sword feathers, with a slim dyed-red duck feather side flank. A pair of jungle cock eyes were often added. These Alexandra flies truly were a handsome pattern.

A good Alexandra night closes in at Eucumbene – ripple and no moon.

On dark, windy and moonless nights, Bob and I would fish the Frying Pan Arm of Lake Eucumbene. It was at the time our favourite water, with many granite rock points, which we managed to drive out to in my old 1956 FJ Holden. Looking back, I wonder at the courage of the young: there is no way I would take the risks that we did with that old car today!

Anyway, we fished the Alexandra by casting along both sides of the points, and usually side-on or quartering into the wind. Breezy nights were way better than calm. Me, a left hander and Bob a right hander, would fish either side of a point, meeting at the tip to compare notes. Many times, rainbows would nearly pull the rod out of our hands as they attacked the fly.

On some nights, the fishing was truly spectacular. From memory we caught more rainbows than browns. We also spent many hours on nearby Tantangara, also night fishing. On both lakes, calm nights favoured a largish black Muddler Minnow slowly figure-eight retrieved. But when the wind was up, the Alexandra had no equal, fished both fast and slow.

A Eucumbene rainbow on the Black Muddler – best on the calm nights.

For better or worse, as time moved on, my night fishing days slowly reduced, with more evening enjoyment being found back at the shack cooking a rib-eye and downing a claret or two, retelling the many stories of the days of yore.

However, I cannot leave this record without mentioning a few more flies with a bright silver body which one hardly ever hears about anymore: loch-style or traditional wet flies like the Teal & Red, the Teal & Green, the Watsons Fancy, and another very favourite of mine, a Peter Ross.

Even today if I’m fishing a team of two (or rarely three) wets, a Peter Ross will often be knotted on as the point fly – including in bright daylight. I think silver bodies on trout flies still have an important role to play. Sure, I admit on some days, they don’t seem to work. However, on others, the fly with silver will out-fish every other. And whilst I’m the first to admit I hardly ever use a Teal & Red or Teal & Green these days, others have reported some remarkable fishing with them.

The Watsons Fancy is another enigma of a fly. Tied with dark blue duck wing quills, and sometimes with a slim red side flank feather and silver body, I have no idea what it might represent. Others tell me to use it as a tadpole fly, but for me it’s just an ‘exciter’ pattern. Either way, on some days, it is a killer of a fly. I remember in the halcyon days at Lake Sorell if I knotted one on, the brown trout wouldn’t leave it alone. Frustratingly, I’d lose many more than I’d land, but nearly every cast or two there was a bump, a hit, or a small whirlpool behind the fly as it was fished fairly fast in the slightly milky water.

Back in those days, I used just a single fly. It wasn’t until the popularity of loch-style fishing took off that I ever thought to tie on more than one fly. And as touched on earlier, while some mates use three flies, for me two are usually enough to keep me out of trouble!

In the late 1970s and early 1980s, Lake Sorell was possibly the very best trout water in Tasmania. I’ve written before of frog fishing in the clearwater marshes with a Mrs Simpson, the dawn patrols with beetles and midges, and the afternoon black spinner hatches along the gumtree-lined shores. It was so sad to see that trout fishery go from its pinnacle to its demise. I only hope that one day in the future, Sorell will regain its former glory.

But as is often the case when I write these notes, I digress, so back to silver on flies. I’m sure it is the sparkle and when I look back to my teenage years before becoming a flyfisher, I think I know why. When fishing the Howqua River in Victoria, and below the Pondage wall on the Goulburn River near Eildon, I used nothing but lures. Today, anglers are barred from fishing directly below the pondage wall, but in the 1960s, it was allowed. As I write, it brings back memories of the cold misty spray in my face at dawn, the across and down as the wobbler curved its way back towards me, and the sheer excitement of fishing under that wall. My favourite lures back then were a Silver Wobbler and a silver EMU, particularly on grey overcast days. The EMU lures, handmade in Tasmania, have passed into history, although I suspect the Silver Wobbler still exists.

A slightly sparser version of an Alexandra to that used by Jim at Eucumbene – but still the epitome of bling in a fly.

Usually, silver on a trout fly is best on cloudy overcast days and at night. However, as I mentioned before, a Peter Ross knotted on in bright sunlight has worked for me at times too.

If a reader of these notes decides to knot on a fly that has a body of silver because of what I’ve written, then I shall be very pleased to have offered these reflections.