FEBRUARY 61 



and the only fear that haunted anglers was whether the 

 spate would subside in time for operations on the 12th. 

 It did so : but only just. We were faced with a very 

 full water on that Monday morning; many familiar 

 features in the pools were submerged, and nothing 

 smaller than a three-inch fly was likely to be effective. 

 Howbeit, the cardinal merit of Highland waters is that 

 they run big, yet beautifully clear. The chief anxiety 

 to be allayed was whether the early fish had reached 

 our beat, or, having reached it, had run through it. 

 In a long river like the Dee that is always a matter of 

 speculation. In cold weather and water spring salmon, 

 moving in great or small companies, travel very slowly 

 from the sea; if both be warm, they swim faster, 

 and the pools that are well stocked one day may be 

 tenantless the next, unless replenished by a fresh run. 



In the early months when the river is in flood, 

 salmon are prone to hug the banks, avoiding the force 

 of cold water in mid-stream. It was my lot to begin 

 the season where the river spreads out into what is 

 usually a broad pool with an easy current. It was now 

 a sweeping flood, wherein, unaided by the gillie's local 

 knowledge, a stranger like myself would have deemed 

 it fruitless to cast a fly. To reach the lie of the fish 

 under prevailing conditions, we had to go afloat, 

 wading being out of the question. Confirmed sceptic 

 as I am about the superior attraction of one fly over 

 another, I find it impossible to divest myself of pre- 

 dilection; and in a big water under a gloomy sky I 

 entertain a preference for something black. Accord- 

 ingly I mounted a three-inch monster known on the 



