We are currently on holiday in Nidderdale in North Yorkshire and while it isn’t, nor was it planned as a fishing holiday I am always on the look out for opportunities to wet a line. The cottage we hired for the week surprisingly came with permission to fish a small lake/pond for wild Brown trout. It wasn’t something I booked the house for, rather it was a bit of a bonus I discovered after we settled on the cottage for our week away. ( well that’s what I tell the wife ) .
The morning after we arrived the owner took me to see the water. It was up in some woods and was so overgrown you almost had to stumble over it to find it.
A view of most of the fishable area of the pond, you can see its mostly over grown with matting plants and surrounded by trees,
The pond was one of two which took water from the hills and were fed through springs in the bed rock, the water is a constant 63 degrees Fahrenheit and gin clear. But it was almost entirely over grown with matting weed and surrounding trees. The ponds were constructed by a former estate owner and stocked with Brown Trout many generations ago which had simply been left. To be frank the only way you could fish this easily was probably with a float and a couple of maggots.
There were though a couple of casting platforms one on either side under the tree canopy whether you could use them was hard to say.
So Monday evening I decided to venture up there for a proper look though I wasn’t hopeful at all I would wet a line. The one platform that was accessible was behind lots of bushes so I got my rod in its tube , my reel in my pocket and my seat/rucksack and gingerly made my way down to the edge of the platform . As I did a fish rose not a yard from the end, the first sign of a fish . I wasn’t sure how solid the platform was, it looked fairly substantial if a bit unmaintained and covered in duck shit. I edged out carefully and it seemed ok until I reached the end where it was a little shaky. I put the seat out sat down and tackled up. Another fish rose behind me.
That made my mind up, I would try a cast over there with my tiny dry fly on 2lb tippet. The fly never got a look and a few more signs of fish moving convinced me to swap to a small pheasant tail nymph. I wasn’t sure this wouldn’t end up a snagfest. My first cast to my left was good and as I reached the end of my retrieve I seen a flash as a fish I would put at about a pound turned away.
The next cast got a nip.
The next got a strong pull, I was sure it was hooked but it wasn’t to be.
The activity slowed and I decided it might be more efficient if I attached a small self adhesive indicator and hang the nymph mid water about 18″ under it. Duly set up I cast out avoiding the trees and the nymph, indicator landed all nicely lined up. Almost immediately the indicator bobbed under and I lifted into a fish. It wasn’t big maybe half to three-quarters of a pound. I hadn’t bothered bringing a net as I truely hadn’t figured on actually being able to fish let alone catching anything, I thought casting would be near impossible.
The fish kept heading for the raft of weed but I kept it out. As I was getting my hand on the line to bring it in, the wee trout jumped off the barbless hook. That was fine, it counts in my book and saved me handling it.
A pond selfie
I fished on but the rain came on and got pretty heavy though under the shelter of the trees I was ok. But the fishing went a bit quiet or was it the disturbance of the last fish hooked?
I decided it was time for a change. I tied on a size 16 Orange beaded nymph.
A dozen casts got nothing and the rain got heavier.
As I considered packing up, I seen a fish make a splashy rise well beyond casting range to my right, ok, maybe another cast.
I cast to my right let the fly sink then started the slow retrieve.
Then it happened. As I lifted the fly there was a collosal splash as a fish took the nymph. I wasn’t sure it was actually hooked, but lifted my arm high and tightened the line. I could see the indicator it was moving steadily to my left. If I didn’t know better I thought I was connected to the bottom ….. And it was moving.
The fish, no let’s call it what it was…. the submarine turned back towards me, I don’t think I had caught the fish, it had me. At this stage I wasn’t even sure it knew it was hooked, I really wasn’t confident I was going to land this. It stopped right in front of me but I couldn’t see it. Only the indicator. You know the scene in Jaws when they hook the shark with the big barrels? Well, that!
I tried to keep the line tight on the fish using the soft tip of my 4 weight to cushion the fine tippet. The sub was now about a rod length beyond my rod tip to my right, if it went for the weeds I was in trouble .
I was in trouble…. then there was a lunge and the tippet snapped. I was gutted and still shaking from the encounter with the big fish from the small pond. The rain was tipping down now.
The planks that gave way beneath me as I went to finish up
That was it, time to go. I decided to pack the rod and reel away, then stood to gingerly reverse back up the platform. There was an almighty crack and my foot was suddenly wet as I found myself lying on my chest grabbing for the end of the platform. It was sore too cos I landed on the reel in my pocket. I managed to get my leg out the water and back onto my knees on the platform. I carefully got myself back to the foot of the platform and back to the car. While it was a sore end it was without doubt an exciting hour or so on a wee bit water I never thought I would have so much as a cast never mind hooking a fish.
Post Script:
I was talking to the owner the following day and he told me a friend of his fished there about 3 years before. He caught a brown trout that he photographed then released and it was 28″ from nose to fork of the tail. That’s a big wild Brownie. Over the next few days I returned another couple of times, the second time it was dead, and never saw or caught the eye of any fish, the last time I went up, I hooked and lost another 2 fish and had another couple of knocks. The small nymph under the indicator in every case was the most effective method. I don’t think there were a lot of fish in the pond but I do think the few that were there were quality fish, and it seemed if you could get a fly near a fish ( difficult under the trees and limited by the weeds, that you stood a good chance of getting some sport.) It’s a bit of a shame actually if someone could clear the majority of the weed that covered the deeper water, leaving it over the shallow end and maybe remove some of the silt on the bottom- I tried wading on one visit and near the edge there was bed rock and the water was knee deep but as you edged out suddenly it was waist deep silt, with a little rowing boat this would be a gem of a location to fish.
