A BIT OF WILL AND IMAGINATION IS ALL IT TAKES!
Taxi rides, pushy swans, hand grenades, and aggressive sheep…. Would you like a Hare’s Ear alongside that Bordeaux red?
Over the past several years, my partner, Deb, and I have explored bits and pieces of Europe. On most trips, I searched out a fishing hole. There is a lot of good looking water over there! What follows are some of the highlights and misadventures. Hopefully, you will find it informative and inspiring enough to carve out a small – or large – amount of fishing time if you find yourself in Europe.
THE HIDDEN COST OF DOING IT YOURSELF
My first European fly fishing experience took place near the picturesque village of Cesky Krumlov in the Czech Republic. There is a dependable trout population in the nearby River Vltava. I researched a local guide who offered day trips for 100-euros, including transport and license. However, at that point in my life, I was not about to spend 100-euros to fish a trout stream. After a train ride to the town center, a cab took me to city hall for a fishing license. Cab ride: 15 euros.
Luckily, the cab driver sang in an American blues band and spoke excellent English. He actually facilitated the license transaction, and didn’t even keep the meter running. License: 10-euros. Return cab ride: 15-euros. Driver tip: 10-euros. Financially, you can see where this is going…
Back at the town square, I gathered my tackle and called another cab. As it drove along the river, I kept my eyes peeled for a likely spot. We passed campgrounds, canoe rentals, and even a castle. Finally, I spied a riffle that slid into a deep bend. The cab stopped and we arranged for a sunset pick-up. Cost of cab: 25-euros. A canoe was passed every few minutes; the plastic hatch was in full swing. However, caddis flies were not going to surrender to the canoes. They swarmed the streamside bushes and even motivated the odd rise.
In between canoes, I tied on an elk hair caddis and waded into the river. And I caught trout – at least a dozen colorful, truly indigenous brown trout. I was thrilled because I was in the Czech Republic. The downside was that the biggest trout was 6 inches long. My biggest fish was actually a chub. At sunset, the cab came back and returned me to town. Cost of cab: 25-euros. Honorably, the driver did not inflate the return trip. Total savings over the cost of a guide? I’ll let you do the math…
DANCING WITH SWANS
England is littered with chalk streams. These are spring creeks with gin clear water and profuse insect life. In 1653, they inspired the world’s first dedicated fishing book: The Compleat Angler. Fishing Breaks is an agency that sells day tickets to a smorgasbord of these fisheries. While planning a trip to England, I emailed them for a recommendation. “If you’re just sampling one,” came the reply, “It should be the best. How about the River Test?”
That July, I was beside the River Test. It was July and I was the sole angler on my beat, which was kilometer or so of water. The water was like an aquarium. One bank was mowed for ease of access; however, a thin line of reeds was left to offer some concealment. The other bank was overgrown and wild. Alternate patches of bright green weeds and bright yellow gravel covered the bottom. A group of swans was far upstream, coasting toward me on the steady, gentle current.
READ THE LOCAL RULES!
The local rules spelled out some challenges – no wading, no downstream presentations, and no indicators. I could see scattered trout nosing in and out of the weeds by the far bank. I tied on a small grey emerger and made some decent casts. No interest. Changed flies. Repeated. The swans drifted closer. Repeated again. And again. The swans were now on top of the trout, which promptly evaporated. Ugh! The swans were beautiful but I considered scattering them with a well-placed rock. After a brief internal struggle, I discarded that idea and looked for more trout. I did not have to look very far or very long.
There was a pod of trout close to the near bank. They were beneath the branches of a tall tree. I crawled into position; I was underneath the same tree, just back from the water on my knees. My line was stretched out on the grass behind me. With a sidearm motion, I flipped it just upstream of the trout. Nothing happened. It drifted past their snouts, and I flipped it onto the grass behind me. Then out again. Fish on! A 14-inch brownie was soon in my net and then back in the river. The pod was nowhere to be seen, but I was elated. Success in finesse situations is not something I am used to.
I tried another spot against the far shore until the swans took it over. No luck. Then it was back to the overhanging tree, wriggling into position. This time it took a few fly changes but eventually one took.
SWANS WERE RELENTLESS
And so the day went. Fish the far bank while the swans allowed it, then wedge myself underneath the tree. The pod always seemed to return, and something showed an interest. By the end of the day, I probably brought five to hand and also experienced some pretty dramatic refusals. One fish actually had its nose within a hook length of the fly for several feet. It was quite mesmerizing.
SHEEP, SHEEP EVERYWHERE!
In the UK, day tickets to lakes are generally much cheaper than day tickets to rivers. A few weeks after the River Test, I strolled into a tackle shop on the Isle of Skye and enquired about fly fishing possibilities. Shortly afterward, I was fan-casting the shore of a brooding Scottish loch nestled in the pastureland below some crags. It was raining and depressingly unsuccessful. I trudged toward one last spot, close to where the rental car was parked. There was a group of sheep in the distance, and a couple of young ones peeled off and started trotting towards me.
I clapped my hands. Invariably, this had frightened off the dozens of sheep that we had encountered on other treks in the area. Not this time. The two quickened their pace towards me. So I waved my arms and shouted. One of them stopped about 30 feet away. The other accelerated, drawing a bead on my kneecap with its small (thankfully) horns.
FULL CHARGE
About ten feet away, the sheep was nearing a gallop and definitely favoring my left kneecap. For an instant, I considered grabbing its horns and wrestling it to a stop. But I didn’t dare risk the embarrassment of losing a wrestling match to a knee-high sheep. So I gave it a solid whack on the shoulder with my landing net. The sheep stopped. We glared at each other. I slowly backed up towards the gate in the barbwire fence. The sheep continued to glare. I slid through the gate and shut it. As I peeled off my waders back at the car, both sheep were head-butting the closed gate. I am still not sure what I did to enrage them…
ARTIC TWILIGHT BY THE HAND GRENADE RANGE
Tallinn, Estonia has a historic skyline that rivals any European capital. It sits just south of the 60th parallel and is surrounded by boreal forest. Best of all, there are dozens of trout and grayling rivers running through this forest. Estonia Fly Fishing is a Tallinn-based guide service run by Vahur Mae. We were scheduled to arrive in Tallinn by bus at 5 PM. Given his price, and my Czech DIY experience, I arranged for him to pick me up at the bus station and drive an hour out to the nearest river. How often can you drive to Arctic grayling? In order to protect its identity, Vahur called our destination Potato Creek.
That far north, we could fish for hours and make it back to Tallinn just as night fell. Vahur explained that Potato Creek was on an active military training ground and only opened when no maneuvers taking place. I was really beginning to like Estonia, with the long days and armed guards for the trout population.
We soon entered the training grounds and parked not far from the hand grenade range. My fear of unexploded grenades was swallowed by the possibility of a trout or grayling. Potato Creek was narrow and spring fed. Tall grasses lines undercut banks. There were scattered weeds and gentle riffles. It screamed brown trout and was very different from the brawling rivers that grayling call home in Canada.
Quickly, Vahur had me on the prime spots. I was often disguised in the tall grass off to one side, and trying to land a dry fly in the middle of a skinny channel. The sub-Arctic breeze made it quite difficult; the occasional splashy rise did not make it any easier. At the end of the session, I only had several small trout and grayling to show for my effort.
OTHER OPPORTUNITIES
Lake Bled, Slovenia is the European equivalent of a North American trout town, with the Sava Bohinjka River nearby. After purchasing my day ticket and some hot flies from the Fauna Flyfishing Bled shop, I hiked to the river and was treated to a morning of robust rainbows feeding on dry flies I landed a couple of 16-inchers and broke enough 6X tippet to completely deplete my new purchases.
In France, Normandy has numerous chalk streams and I bought a day ticket directly from a landowner on the Risle River. In Provence, the Sorgue River holds some very picky trout. Le Sorguett is the shop that set me up on it.
The Spanish Pyrenees and northern Portugal are legitimate fly fishing destinations. I fished both these places with local guides and released a horde of smallish trout. I also managed to lose a 20-inch fish in each place. (Every fishing story needs the “one-that-got-away”, right?) The services I used were Minho Fly Fishing and Pyrenees Fly Fishing.
Brod na Kupi in northern Croatia is convenient for fishing. The Kupa and Kupica Rivers are gorgeous and nearby; the local bar sells day tickets. Beware of the fog that can smother the evening hatch. That kind of thing happens when Mediterranean heat meets icy trout water.
On a non-fishing note, the waterfalls at Plitvice Lakes in Croatia are amazing. Another recommendation is a canoe paddle from Cesky Krumlov, sliding down the concrete chutes that skirt the river’s dams.
IN SUMMARY
Across the Atlantic, there are many places where trout addicts can get a sustaining fix. My results were mediocre, but yours may be better, especially if you can put in a few days at one spot. Even if you are not fishing, but you come across some likely looking water, try to spot some trout. The results might surprise you…
EXTRA NOTES FROM DALE
Most European waters require a day ticket that gives you access to a particular beat, or stretch of water. Depending on the situation, day tickets may be sold by land owners, booking agents, fishing clubs, cafes, hotels, or tackle stores. A regional license can be required instead of, or in addition, to a day ticket. As always, check the regulations! That can be daunting if they are in a foreign language. Guides will usually procure the paperwork needed to keep you out of trouble.
TRAVEL LIGHT
When in Europe my tackle was kept to a bare minimum – a small chest pack, a waterproof camera, wading shoes, and either a 3 or 5 weight travel rod. The chest pack included a fly box, nippers, forceps, leader material, floatant, split shot, and strike indicators.