UPSTREAM WORM FISHING.
No book devoted to the subject of the fishing of North Country rivers
would be complete without a chapter on worm fishing.
This branch of the sport, has during recent years become more and more
popular in the Northern Counties, as worm fishing, under the conditions
mentioned later, undoubtedly deserves to be classed as an art alongside
of the highest forms of fly fishing. Indeed, in its difficulties it
exceeds fly fishing, both wet and dry.
There remains, however, still a certain amount of prejudice against worm
fishing among fly fishermen, who continue to look upon it as unsporting
and therefore beneath the notice of a self-respecting fisherman. But the
prejudice of these men is probably largely due to their misconception of
the term. For while trout can mostly be caught by any in a fresh with
very elementary tackle, it takes an observant and persevering man to
make a basket under conditions suitable for sporting upstream worming.
The use of the worm during the first few months of the season cannot be
defended, whether the river be low and clear, or running strong with the
Spring freshets; for seldom a day passes at that time of the year without
a rise at some part of it during which trout will take a fly, and, while
that is the case, what true disciple of Walton would use any other lure?
The season therefore when the worm can fairly be used is restricted to
the time of low clear waters during the hottest part of the summer, when
the trout have ceased to rise freely to the fly in the day-time, a period
of some eight or ten weeks, beginning about the 10th of June. The Stone
Fly is usually over by that date. Any antipathy to worm fishing under
those conditions in our North Country Rivers is difficult to understand,
for it provides a most sporting variety of fishing during the blazing
days of summer when the fly is hopeless. And unless a man is prepared
to work hard in the blistering sun, unless he has a good knowledge of
the habits of trout, and is able to show a fair amount of skill, both in
approaching his fish and in throwing the worm, his basket will be a light
one.
Many are the days during the latter part of June and the month of July
when the man who fishes fly only will return home with but an odd fish
or so to show for his day’s outing. That may satisfy the gentleman of
leisure, but to those who can devote to their favourite pastime only such
days—often few and far between—as can be snatched from business, the
killing of a few brace will appeal strongly.
To them in particular this chapter is addressed in the hope that some of
those who, through prejudice, use fly only will reserve judgment, and,
having read so far, may be sufficiently interested to read to the end of
the chapter, and maybe to put into practice those hints which are here
offered on one of the most delightful branches of trout fishing.
A day with the upstream worm always gives to the writers the utmost
pleasure and satisfaction. Each cast is as full of interest as a cast
made with the wet fly; and from the moment the worm touches the water to
the moment it is withdrawn, the excitement rivals that conjured up by the
approach of a dry fly to the spot whence recently emanated the rings made
by a rising trout.
Then again, the skill necessary to throw a worm without flicking it off
the hooks, and to drop it exactly where required with the least possible
disturbance, is of no mean order.
That is not all, however; conditions vary, and all rivers from day to
day present new problems. Unless therefore the angler is able to adapt
himself to varying conditions, the most precise and delicate casting is
of little avail.
To divine instinctively where the trout lie is the great secret of
success; and it is the application of that knowledge that marks the
expert in this branch of angling. To put the matter in a nutshell, an
adept in upstream worm fishing combines delicate and accurate casting,
unsurpassed even by the dry-fly man, with an intimate knowledge of the
habits of trout. This can only be gained by keen and careful observation.
Neither wet-fly nor dry-fly fishing requires quite such a wide experience
with regard to the habits of trout, and for that reason upstream worm
fishing is to be classed as an art in itself. The knowledge gained of the
habitat of the trout by clear water worming is a valuable asset to the
wet-fly fisher and may often be turned to good account on one of those
days when the hatch of fly is meagre and rising fish are few.
Is not this latter reason alone sufficient recommendation to induce every
fly fisher to take up this branch of the art? If the reader thinks so,
perhaps the few following hints on tackle and procedure may serve as
some guide, particularly if he be a novice and about to make his initial
effort.
The rod is, of course, of primary importance. Many writers recommend one
of 12 ft. in length; and Stewart, who has always held the reputation
of being one of the finest exponents of upstream worming of his day,
recommends the use of a rod even longer than that. No doubt a long rod
has the advantage of enabling the wielder to keep out of sight readily,
but the writers seldom use any other than a 10½ ft. fly rod, simply
because they frequently find it advisable to change from worm to fly and
_vice versâ_.
The reel and line should be the same as that used for fly fishing, and
also the cast (as in fly fishing), a tapered one of three yards, the last
yard being of finest drawn gut. Then comes the worm tackle. With regard
to this there is a choice of three different varieties, each having its
own advantages, and it is for the reader to use that with which he best
succeeds.
First there is the single-hook tackle, in which the worm is threaded over
the shank of the hook, and is kept from slipping down by a crank at the
top. The advantages of this tackle are that most of the hook is hidden,
being buried in the worm, and, the hook being fairly large, a good hold
is got upon a fish when hooked.
Second comes the two-hook or Pennell tackle. In this case two small hooks
are used, one being whipped on to the gut an inch above the other. The
upper hook is put through the worm a quarter to half an inch below the
head, the worm is then twisted once round the tackle between the hooks,
and the lower hook is put through the lower end of the body. This is a
very good form of tackle, and is the one preferred by the writers, as the
worm lives longer on it than when threaded on a single hook, is livelier
and has a more natural appearance in the water. The hooks should be size
No. 3 in the scale before mentioned on page 8.
Third comes the Stewart tackle, which is the same in form as the Pennell,
except that it has three hooks one above the other, instead of two. This
is a tackle the writers have very seldom used, and they are therefore,
perhaps, hardly competent to speak of its merits. Their experience,
however, leads them to think that the three hooks cannot be sufficiently
well concealed by the small worms which it is imperative to use in low
clear waters, and that therefore the trout have a better opportunity of
detecting the deception.
The next point in the outfit is waders, and these are absolutely
essential if the best is to be got out of upstream worming. The fish must
be approached from almost directly behind, which is impossible in most
cases if the fishing is done from the bank.
Lastly, the angler should always carry a few small leads or sinkers which
can be easily put on and easily removed. Split shot in various sizes,
hammered flat, will do quite well. They will not often be required, but
it is always as well to have them handy for the odd places where their
use is necessary, which are described later.
And now a word as to worms. “Maiden dews,” so often advertised, are not
the best for the purpose, but those known as “Pinktails” are the real
thing; they should be small, say 2 inches in length, and of a pale pink
colour. They should, of course, be well scoured, and they can be carried
in moss in a bag hung round the neck.
With regard to throwing the worm, the two aims never to be lost sight of
are accuracy and delicacy, and this combination can only be attained by
constant practice. The man who can cast a fly will soon get the knack of
putting the worm where he wishes, if he remembers that, when throwing the
worm, the action is slower and more of a swing than in casting a fly,
and that the rod point should be brought rather nearer the water at the
finish of the cast. In addition to this, the arm should be pushed forward
just as the worm is about a foot from the mark, in order to obviate any
recoil and ensure that there shall be little disturbance of the surface
as the worm drops into the water.
The greatest trouble of the novice is the frequency with which he flicks
the worm off the hooks, particularly if the day’s supply has not been
well scoured. To master this trouble all jerks must be avoided, both when
withdrawing the worm from the water and also when the cast is extended
behind. As before stated, the movement should be more of a swing than in
fly casting, with just sufficient power to extend the line behind and the
same in front; there will then be few lost or broken worms.
The next and, without doubt, the most essential point for consideration
is where to fish.
Imagine a bright day towards the end of June on the banks of a typical
North Country river. The gate just passed through brings one to the tail
end of a rapid stream some fifty yards in length, broken here and there
by boulders, some submerged and others just showing their dark mossy
heads above the surface of the water. At the head of the stream there is
a line of submerged stepping stones which no doubt many years ago, before
the bed of the river changed, served a useful purpose.
This stretch of river from bank to bank is nowhere more than two feet
deep, except in the middle a few yards below the stepping stones, where
the current is strongest and where it has dug out a deeper channel. The
beginner looking at this stream immediately notices the darker tone of
water denoting the deeper channel and concludes that, of all places in
the reach, that is the most likely to hold a good fish. Let him not be
misled; the deeper channel holds many good fish, but of all parts of the
stream, that channel is the least likely place from which to basket one.
[Illustration: _The Head of the Dale_
_Photo by N. N. Lee_]
Often have the writers seen men enter this stream, and wade straight out
to the deeper water, unwittingly driving scores of trout in consternation
before them. They fish the deeper rush of water, are rather surprised
that it does not yield a fish, and then move up the river to the next
stream, splashing right through the best water as they go. These men,
more often than not, return home with a creel lighter than it was before
they ate their mid-day meal; and, besides doing nothing themselves, they
make it absolutely impossible for another following on, to fish the
stream with any chance of success within half-an-hour of their having
disturbed it.
The way in which a friend, an adept at clear-water worming, would
approach and fish this stream is very different. Here is a description of
his method.
He enters the reach at the very tail end, where, at the edge, the water
ripples along some two or three inches deep. The manner of his beginning
may be compared to an otter’s in the quietness with which he enters the
river; there is no splash or disturbance, and, more probably than not, he
will stoop to avoid being seen.
He will make the first cast straight upstream, the worm entering the
water twenty-five or thirty feet in front of him, but only some six to
twelve inches from the bank.
Many beginners have laughed at the idea of a fish being caught in such a
place, but let the unbelievers walk on a bright summer’s day along the
bank of a trout stream, and what do they see? Innumerable fish darting
away from the edges of the river, scared at their approach. It is for
these very fish that our expert intends to try, when he makes his cast at
the extreme edge of the river.
Directly the worm reaches the water, it begins to travel naturally and
without drag towards the angler, who slowly raises the point of his
rod, keeping in touch with the worm so that a twist of the wrist will
immediately drive the hook home if a fish takes hold. He is careful
to avoid drag, which is fatal, and is usually caused by the too rapid
raising of the rod point. Without moving his position he makes another
cast, only this time slightly more across the stream, then another and
another, each being further from the bank.
He now wades gently a yard further upstream. In front of him, and just
within casting distance, he notices an obstacle which causes a tiny eddy.
The object is little more than a good-sized tuft of grass jutting out
from the bank, but even that so alters the flow of the water, as to form
a likely feeding place for a fish. The cast is carefully made and the
worm falls into the water as though it had crawled to the edge of the
grass and dropped in.
Almost as soon as the worm has touched the water the current carries it
gently, and quite naturally, into the eddy. The line stops, our friend
withholds his hand, and it is not until the line moves slightly towards
the main stream that he gives a turn of the wrist, driving the hook home
into a nice half-pound fish. For a moment it splashes dangerously in the
shallow water before making off for the deeper stream. The hook, however,
is well home and the captive is quickly brought down and drawn over the
submerged net.
“Well!” says an uninitiated onlooker, “who would have thought that a fish
would have been so near the edge, and in such shallow water too?” The
more you fish the upstream worm, the greater will be your astonishment at
the number and the size of trout caught in such places.
Having basketed his fish, the angler rebaits his tackle, and then gently
moves a yard further upstream, repeating his systematic casting. In this
manner he stalks his quarry up the one side to the head of the stream.
Yes, “stalk” is the word which most adequately describes this man’s
methods, as he takes the greatest pains to avoid being seen. It is work,
and hard work too, on a blazing hot day; but it pays, and it is only
necessary to see the expert’s basket at the end of it to be convinced.
There is always a good dish of fish, and, as often as not, a very large
fish to top off with.
The stepping stones having been reached, our friend leaves the water.
Keeping well away from the edge he returns to the tail of the stream
and wades some eight yards across. His first cast is made upstream and
slightly towards the bank he has just left, the next one more directly in
front, the next inclined towards the opposite side, and so on until he is
casting more and more towards the far bank. Yard by yard the stream is
covered in this manner, as the angler works upwards until two or three
boulders are within casting distance, one showing distinctly above the
surface of the water, while the others are detected only by the broken
surface of the stream.
This is another very likely place, but our friend prefers the edges of
the stream and thinner water to such places, although the latter are
often good for two or three fish. The first cast is made towards the
near bank, but without result. The second also fails to entice a fish,
although the worm was dropped just by the side of one of the submerged
boulders. At the third cast, however, which was made to the other side of
the same boulder, a fish fastens and is brought to net. The golden gleam
of another trout is seen as he is turned over, but missed, behind one of
the other rocks. Then at the succeeding cast the worm enters the water
about a foot beyond the rock which lifts above the surface of the stream.
The sharp water running round the side of a boulder forms a favourite
feeding place for a fish; a trout occupying such a position usually lies
with his head slightly in advance of the rock. The worm has just time to
sink before it is picked up by the stream and carried rapidly down the
run. A fish turns and darts after it. He seizes his prey as it sweeps
almost past the rock, the steel is gently driven home, and another fish
duly joins his brethren in the creel.
The whole of the stream is worked in the foregoing manner, the far edge
of the river being treated in the same way as the side on which a
beginning was made, and great care is taken that a tell-tale wave does
not precede the angler.
At the far side, immediately below the stepping-stones, and lying
slightly across stream, is the submerged trunk of an old tree which
lodged there years ago, no doubt washed down and left by some winter
flood. The position of this tree trunk, resisting the force of the
current, causes a sharp stream to flow parallel to it. In this run a good
fish will always be found, lying ready to seize whatever of his fancy
the stream may carry to him. A cast is made, the worm gently dropping
into the water some two or three inches from the side of the log. The rod
point is slowly raised, our expert being most particular not to do this
too quickly, and cause a drag on the worm. This necessity for avoidance
of drag is a point to be reiterated and insisted on as strongly in this
branch of the art as in fly fishing, as one is often inclined to think
a stream is running quicker than is actually the case, and an unnatural
drag will cause many a good fish to turn away, that would otherwise have
taken the lure. The worm has hardly travelled more than half its course,
when the line stops. As it moves away a gentle strike is rewarded by
a tightened line, and another lusty trout is battling for dear life.
Upstream he goes for a few yards, then flings himself into the air, but
a lowered rod point defeats the manœuvre, and control of the captive
is regained as he re-enters the water. The split cane soon tells on his
strength, and quietly he is coaxed down stream to the net, but instead of
floating in he merges indistinct into the shadowy water, and an upflying
rod tells of a light hold and the loss of a stout-hearted fish.
Leaving this stream, and incidentally the friend whose methods have been
studied, let the reader give his company up the river to the next stream;
and, to realize how failure may be caused by wrong approach, let him
listen to an incident which happened to one of the writers in his early
days of upstream worming. But first the stream must be described.
A long deep pool (or dub, as it is called on the Eden) breaks away in a
short characterless rapid, narrowing towards the tail and then rushing
under willow trees which hang right out over the river from the right
bank. The strong stream has dug out a deep channel under these willows,
while the left or near bank is a bed of fine gravel gradually sloping
into the deeper water at the far side. This deep channel holds many good
fish, but they are quite unassailable so long as they remain well under
the willows.
Now for the incident. The day was blazing hot, the month July, and the
river low and clear when the writer in question first essayed to fish it
with the worm. Entering the water at the tail of the stream, he waded
out as near as possible to the willows, which, as described, were on his
left. Casting straight up in front of him he cherished the idea that the
stream would carry the worm under the willows to the place where, it was
hoped, the best fish would lie feeding. So far, so good. In this manner
he worked to the top of the stream without a touch, when a final throw
was made, pitching the worm into the water just where it rushed hardest
under the willows.
Almost before the worm touched the water, the dark form of a large fish,
some three or four pounds in weight, shot from the shallows on his right,
to his holt in the deeps under the willows. This fish had been lying in
the very thin water at the tail end of the rapids, no doubt seizing every
morsel that came within reach, but ever ready to dart into his stronghold
on the least sign of danger.
On the two following days the same thing happened, when it occurred to
that youthful angler that his approach had been all wrong, and that if
he had worked the thin water first, leaving the deeper channel until the
last, success might have attended his efforts. But reflection had come
too late; he had to leave, and he never saw the fish again.
There is another moral to the incident; although a deep inaccessible pool
may be the stronghold of the largest trout, they will, during the hot
summer months, frequently come to the thin edges of the stream to feed.
Another personal experience will perhaps serve to illustrate other
possibilities. Towards the end of June, after seven weeks’ drought, the
writers went to the upper reaches of a North Country river, where, thanks
to the generosity of the proprietor, they were permitted to have a few
days’ fishing. Owing to the long spell of dry weather the river, which
at the best of times is there little better than a good sized beck, had
shrunk to a mere trickle with deep pools here and there. The whole bed of
the river was thickly coated with a green slimy growth.
Local opinion had it that fishing was waste of time until a good flood
came to clean the bed of the river. Enthusiasm prevailed, however, as it
was the first opportunity one of the party had of fishing this stretch,
and the chance was not one to be missed, even though the prospects held
out no great hope of success.
Up to about noon on the first day he who was strange to the water had
never a fish to show for his efforts, although the trout were there and
plentiful.
What with the oppressive heat and persistent failure, much of the
keenness of early morning had worn off, and it was with a feeling akin to
relief that the angler unslung his creel and threw himself on to the bank
where he might enjoy a cigarette under the cool shade of the trees.
As the wreaths of smoke curled upwards, the unsuccessful one, with his
back propped against the trunk of a tree, began to survey the stretch
of river above him. Both banks were bordered by trees and clumps of
willows for a distance of some two hundred yards. The water was nowhere
more than two feet deep and so slight was the current that it was almost
imperceptible. Not a ripple broke the surface of the stretch from end
to end. It was like the proverbial “sheet of glass,” and, had it but
been able to reflect the expression on the angler’s face, nothing but
disappointment would have been revealed.
At length he jumped up with the intention of exploring the higher regions
of the river and as he did so several fish, scared at his proximity,
darted from the edge. Those trout decided the course of action, and,
although the reach was to all appearances hopeless, the angler determined
to try for some of the fish that were lying at the very edges, apparently
basking in the sun.
Wading a stretch of water such as this, was most difficult, necessitating
the utmost caution and slow approach, if the tell-tale wave were to be
avoided. For obvious reasons it was essential that the angler should
keep as close in to the willows on his side of the river as possible,
and cast as long a line as he could control. Every time the worm was
allowed to sink to the bottom, it was fouled with the vegetable growth on
the stones. This happened almost every cast, and just as the angler was
beginning to think that nobody but a fool would ever try to fish such a
place, he came within casting distance of a narrow opening between the
willows. Throwing carefully round the trees, the worm was landed within
a few inches of the bank. There was a wave such as a trout makes when
darting from the edge, and for the fraction of a second he thought that
the slight disturbance caused by the worm dropping into the water had
scared the fish. But no! the line quivered, then moved slightly, and,
in response to a well-timed strike, the rod bent to the fight of a good
half-pounder, which gave that thrill of satisfaction which is only felt
when a difficult situation has been overcome.
That stretch of water yielded, within an hour or so, eight fish, which
later proved to be above the average size for that part of the river.
The experience has been of the greatest value. Many times since then,
when fish would not take well in the stream, has a blank been saved by
attacking a stretch of water of this nature in this way. One thing leads
to another, and perhaps a further use to which the knowledge gained on
that occasion has been put is worth recording.
In common with many others, who can only go a-fishing at such times
as business permits, the writers frequently wield the rod on most
unpropitious days. Even in July they sometimes find on reaching the river
that half a gale of wind is blowing dead down stream. An hour’s battling
against the elements, trying in vain to get the worm well up in front, is
as a rule enough for anyone. Even if the worm lands occasionally where it
is wanted, the wind will catch the line and cause a most unnatural drag,
and ruin all chance of enticing a fish.
Those were the prevailing conditions on the first opportunity that
offered of making use of the experience just narrated.
Leaving an ideal stream, which on this particular day was absolutely
unsheltered from a strong downstream wind, the writers walked upstream,
but had not gone far when one of them noticed, in contrast with the
wind-beaten surface of the water, an unruffled place between two large
trees which overhung the bank. The water here was wadable, the current
almost non-existent, and within the shelter of the trees it was not
difficult to make a neat cast. The worm had scarcely touched the water
when, from under the cover of the overhanging boughs, came a nice plump
well-fed fish, and in full view of the angler appropriated the worm in
the most unsuspicious manner. Enough, the angler walked on trying behind
every bush, whether the river at that particular place was streamy or
otherwise; and since then, the writers have often had the laugh of a
heavy downstream wind.
Now by the foregoing it is not desired to suggest, that it is wise,
whenever an almost streamless stretch of water is reached, to fish it,
as the process is slow and takes up much time, which might probably
be used to better advantage in the streams and thin water; but, as a
stand-by, when conditions are against the angler and the trout not keen,
it is always well to try such places.
Another favourite feeding ground, where innumerable trout always
congregate, is the very tail end of a pool, just before it breaks away
into the stream below. The water in such a place forms a glassy glide,
in fishing which the novice will find his path to success beset with
difficulties, particularly if the banks of the river afford no cover.
The greatest circumspection in approach, and more than ordinary delicacy
in casting, are two essentials which will go far towards the mastery of
this situation; but there is again the difficulty of an unnatural drag
to be overcome. To obviate this trouble entirely in such a place, is
almost impossible, but much may be done to attain the desired end by
fishing with a short line and letting as little of it touch the water as
possible. Reaches of this character, however, will always fish best when
the angler has the wind behind him, and under those conditions should
never be neglected, as among the trout which haunt such places will
frequently be found the largest that the river produces.
Let it be understood, however, that the remarks in the foregoing
paragraph apply principally to large pools extending almost the whole
way across a river; but at the same time, it must not be thought that the
tail end of a small pool is useless; on the contrary, such places will
often yield a trout, and they are easier to fish than the larger glides.
Mention of the uses for the sinkers suggested in the outfit has been
purposely left until almost the last, as in clear-water worming the part
they play is a very small one.
When on an open stretch of water trouble is experienced in casting
against a wind, after having first tried in vain to overcome the
difficulty by reducing the length of the casting line, then, as a last
resource, pinch on to the cast a small lead eighteen inches above the
hooks. This will materially assist in getting out the line, and at the
same time the lead will help to reduce the drag on the line which the
wind will be certain to cause.
Further use for sinkers will be found when fishing rapid rivers where
many channels of very swift flowing water are frequently met with.
Outside these occasions, however, leads will be found of little value and
their use should be exceptional in upstream worming.
Without wishing to enlarge further on this almost inexhaustible subject,
there is one other point of some importance which should be mentioned and
that is a method by which any difficulty experienced in detecting when
the worm has been seized may be overcome. Many beginners, particularly
if their eyesight is not of the best, find this a great source of
trouble. Let them grease the reel line well before a start is made. It
will then float, and any check upon it will be noticed immediately. If
even that does not get over the difficulty, let them tie on a small piece
of light-coloured wool where the cast and line join (the wool can often
be obtained from the fences at the stream side where sheep have rubbed),
form the wool into a tiny ball and soak it with oil such as is carried by
the dry-fly man. When this ball gets water-logged all that is necessary
is to squeeze it between finger and thumb and occasionally re-oil it. It
will be found to float splendidly, and by following the golfer’s first
maxim, “Keep your eye on the ball,” few bites will pass unobserved.
Let it be hoped that those who have read to the end of this chapter
and feel any inclination to give clear-water worming a trial will get
from that branch of the sport as much pleasure and satisfaction as the
writers have enjoyed, during those days in summer which come, alas, all
too seldom. Days which open with the incomparable freshness of a June
morning, continue with the brightest of skies, with songs of birds, and
murmuring streams, and close with the landscape wrapped in shadows. The
while great beetles drone by, and moths, white and brown, flutter out
of the grasses under foot, when it requires an effort to leave such a
wonderful world, and to re-enter the dwellings of man.