03

January 2018

By Henrik Johansen

Slow versus fast.

In connection with the KÅS competition in 2010, I seriously began Fly-fishing. I started with copying other fly fishers’ techniques. The fishing was primarily during the night, and it was done completely traditionally: with a 45 degree throw toward the opposite bank, big black flies, occasional use of the nymph fly, 2 steps forward, and a new throw. A colored male fish with a length of 50 cm, I was very proud of it, and was at that moment emotionally affected by fly fishing.

The first sea trout on fly.

The seasoned fly fishers I fished with could catch five to fifteen sea trout per season. After a couple of seasons with very few fish, I could also reach that amount per season. It was a big struggle to catch the fishes. The river was visited often and a hundred trips per season is probably an understatement.

In June 2014 I was on a fishing trip on one of the lower stretches of the river. I began around 9 pm, and was at a stretch in the river where there were weeds from my side of the bank to the middle of the river. Usually, when I reached this stretch, I would pull the fly in, go downstream until the river was weed free, and start up again. This night I did something different. I threw perpendicularly toward the opposite bank, and pulled the fly in at full speed while I walked forward. The fly broke the surface once in a while. The stretch had to be completed, so I could fish seriously. From what should have been nothing, a wave rose from the opposite bank, and a fine sea trout quickly swam toward my fly, and grabbed it violently. It was a fine fish which put up a good fight. I fished the rest of the night with the good old method. 45 degree throw toward the opposite bank, big black fly, occasional nymph, 2 steps forward, and a new throw. I experienced nothing out of the ordinary the rest of the night. The day after the scenario repeated itself. I got a fish at the same stretch with a perpendicular throw, highly lifted rod, the fly pull at full speed with I walked forward. I fished again through the rest of the night with the traditional method, and I didn’t experience anything special the rest of the night.

These experiences gave food for thought. I looked through my catch reports, and found that ¾ of my time fishing was at the time bats began to hunt, and a couple of hours in the dark. However, only ¼ of the fish I caught were in that timeframe. The rest were caught when the sun approached the horizon, both in the morning and night which, actually, was where I fished the least. I decided to change my strategy for fishing. In this way, ¾ of my time spent fishing was during daylight hours in the following season, morning and night. The rest was spent when the bats were awake. I began consistently fishing perpendicularly the opposite bank. With small flies and highly lifted rod, the fly was pulled in quickly while I walked forward. This shift in schedule paid off. The catches over the course of the next couple of seasons were improved. From an average of one fish per ten trips, was the average now one fish per three trips. Fish that rose from the river, which previously was a sensation, became something I experienced pretty much on every trip.

My totally private homespun philosophy.

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The fish I previously caught during the night and the fly I traditionally fished with, has usually been pinched by a fish right after the fly has taken a few swings from the opposite bank. When the fly has speed up, or changed its course in a whirlpool on the way to one’s bank. That is how I have the experienced that there is a chance for pinching 1-4 times per throw on a fly in which you fish traditionally

I believe that a sea trout takes the fly because you appeal to the pinch instinct of the fish. Most are of the opinion that sea trout don’t consume its food (This, I don’t agree with. I believe that its food consumption is strongly reduced.) However, I am pretty sure that the sea trout uses its vision, sense of smell and lateral line when it hunts. That is why I always have a propeller installed in front of my fly. In this way, I appeal to both the sight and lateral line of the fish. If I could attach aroma to my fly, I would definitely also do so.

A slowly fished fly, I believe, the fish will register, but in the river where the food intakes is gone, or strongly reduced, the fish will often be largely indifferent. By fishing the fly quickly, I believe, the fish will have three possibilities. To attack, to flee, or to be indifferent!

By fishing the fly faster I experience a clear increase of risen fish, and more fish that take the fly. I experience that with a change in method there is a much bigger chance for pinch per throw. This is simply because the fly speeds up, and changes its course several times per throw. I have also experimented a whole lot with the small flies in relation to their color, and in my experience, it doesn’t matter if the fly is black, white, or vividly colored.

So you can catch fish by copying others. Sea trout can also be caught when it is light. The sea trout is a lightning fast fish, and the fly cannot be fished too quickly, but it can be fished too slowly in my experience. Sea trout are colorblind – it doesn’t matter about certain colors, but, instead, contrasts. It isn’t about how the fly looks, but about how the fly is fished. Last but not least, it revolves around fishing time – a lot of fishing time. Because it is the legendary River Karup. The sea trout are plenty and big, but the fishing gods must know that they are not easy.

 

“Tight lines” by the river.

Henrik Johansen

 

My name is Henrik Johansen. I am 47 years old, work as an educator and live in the city of Skive. I have fished as long as I can remember. As a child, I spend every summer on vacation with my uncle and aunt in Sdr. Omme. My uncle was crazy about fishing as well, and when I think back to my childhood holidays, it is often regarded the memories with my spinning rod along River Omme. I was born and raised in Vinderup, and there is probably not any fresh- or saltwater location in the entire area of Vinderup, which my friends and I have not fished. We fished for everything that could swim. Eel, roach, bream, pike, perch, flatfish, rainbow trout, sea trout, garfish and mackerel. I moved to Skive when I was 20 years old. With a distance of only 50 m to River Karup, it made sense beginning to fish the river. The first many years I did all my fishing at the “Bystykket” in Skive. I then took a break from the river fishing, and along with a friend of mine, I explored the coastal fishing in the Limfjord. I then again returned to River Karup, when the possibility to become a member of LFSO suddenly arose. For some years, I fished almost exclusively with fly, and mainly at night. This went on until the previous season, in which bait fishing with worms and spin fishing got a Renaissance to me. This year my fishing is even more diverse, in the sense that a single fishing trip often contains fishing with both fly, bait and lures. I have many "great experiences" at River Karup. To name a few; the social interaction with like-minded people. The feeling when fly fishing really worked for the first time. Losing a big sea trout, which I saw strike my spinner lure, and after a 10-minute battle, swam away with my Mepps in its mouth. The 8 kg fish, that one night took the fly at the opposite bank, and lost its grip after 5 seconds. In pure frustration, I threw the fly out in the river again in the same direction, where after the big fish actually took the fly again, only to be lost once again after a hard fight. This year's first fish, a May springer of 8.5 kg. There are many experiences. The greatest probably being just enjoying the very experience of fishing the river. Fishing together with others, as well as by myself. This sends me to the river again and again. Tight lines.


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