In the last few days water temperatures have dropped into single figures overnight but have risen a couple of degrees during the day.
The Clutha at Balclutha is warmer than the Taieri at Outram. This means that fish activity will be more prolonged during the day in the Clutha and there will be a better chance of an evening rise.
Most streams rose this week and some are quite discoloured, but with a run of fine weather predicted they should drop back to a fishable level for the last few days of the season.
Discolouration of the water does not mean fish cannot be caught. In fact, it is an advantage for spin fishers even if it is very dirty and even for fly fishers. Trout will still rise to a hatch of mayfly duns or a fall of spinners as they are less likely to be spooked by the angler and the fish are more likely to mistake an artificial fly for the real thing.
The only drawback being that fishing is confined to the duration of a rise.
Last weekend I fished the Taieri near Middlemarch and was accompanied by a herd of boys between 8-11 years old. Actually, there were three of them — it just seemed like a herd.
One of them was my grandson Mitchell, who caught his first trout, aided by Evan and Archie, before I had a chance to tie on a fly. There was a fair chance the entire population of Middlemarch heard the uproar that marked the event.
Once I had a fly attached to my tippet, I turned my attention to trout that were rising despite the pandemonium on the bank. That is where the colour in the water helped as they were rising well within reach. They were rising to either duns or spinners as both were present and also taking nymphs just below the surface.
I covered the nearest fish, and it took after a couple of casts. Then my attention was diverted to taking out a tangle in the line on the herd’s spinning rod. It is hard to take out a tangle when suicidal trout are rising all around.
When normal service was resumed, I picked up another couple of fish. Then it was discovered the tip ring of the spinning rod was cracked and it was cutting the line when it was cast, so fishing was abandoned and the herd appointed themselves as official rise spotters.
They climbed a tree and called out every time a fish rose over a 400m stretch of river. When the rises became less frequent, they manufactured some by throwing branches into the river.
Luckily, there were still fish rising out of range of flying branches but not of my fly.
Amazingly, I caught more fish in two hours than I caught for the whole of the following day on the Pomahaka in total silence.
