Fly Fishing in Germany Part 12: the Schwarza River (Thueringen)

Living on the tenth floor of an old communist apartment building has its benefits: the earliest glimmers of a German sunrise feel like they pierce my window first. And when I need to get up and out of the house by 6:45am, I can’t imagine a better alarm clock. This weekend my destination was a section of the Schwarza River that runs between the small Thüringen towns of Unterweißbach and Bad Blankenburg. I had scoped out pictures of the river on the fly fishing forum for Thüringen, and when the clock struck 12am May 1, 2011 (open season for trout) it was to be the first water I tried.

After a few hours on the train, I ran into my fishing partner for the weekend, Guido, waiting for me at the station where we were both supposed to transfer onto the same train. We would travel another thirty-or-so minutes before we’d reach our destination.

The “dorf” of Unterweißbach isn’t more than a blink of the eye, but you begin to notice more and more of it when you have to walk through the town a couple of times. I might not have noticed the graveyard or the swimming pool hidden behind the trees and houses, if we had not been on an hour-long hunt for coveted Erlaubnisschein. [Remember, in Germany you’ll always need both a fishing license and a permission form for each body of water you fish. They can usually be gotten from the local fishing club, and a good place to start when you don’t know who to contact or where to go is the tourist stop or a local hotel.]

We ended up getting a map from a (farmers) museum in Sitzendorf and making our way slowly up to Forellenzucht, a small fishery, which is situated at the top of the river open to fishing. The permission form was relatively cheap, 10 Euros per day, so we decided to go ahead and purchase a two day’er to fish between Forellenzucht and the “Schweizerhaus” [not so sure about the spelling] a few kilometers below Schwarzburg. [To fish below the Schweizerhaus” you’ll have to get an Erlaubnis from someone in Bad Blankenburg.]

After getting our gear together, enjoying some Knackwurst and granola, we hit the first hole… one that’ll probably get fished to death before the season is over. Luckily, it was May 1st, and there were still a few trout that had a yearning to taste a hook or two. I pulled a nice-sized brown out of the section before we decided to head downstream.

About three-fourths a kilometer downstream we hit what appeared to be an unnaturally formed section of the river; a series of steps of rocks which formed some deep pocket water. I floated a Royal Wulff through a picture perfect seam in the water and can’t recall how many strikes from larger fish I received. I greeted a few of them with my net before remembering that we had a lot water to cover before we could call it an evening. …so, we moved on.

Unfortunately, after that short section of pocket water, the river became relatively “dead”. The trout were there, and I caught a few more, but it was nothing like that brief section just below Forellenzucht. [Why are the fish always congregated around the fishery anyways?]

That caused a little fear. What would tomorrow hold? We’d paid for two days on the river, and if the lower section remained as unproductive as the section around Unterweißbach (note, Forellenzucht is situated a little ways above the town) we’d be a little ticked.

We called it an evening once we reached Schwarzburg, and made our way to Pension Friedrichsthal, where we dropped off our bags and prepared ourselves for what can only be described as a time warp. One thing to be noted about small, former East German towns: they really, really liked/like the eighties. Granted, you could experience the same thing in a small North Carolina town, but it’s hard to perfectly describe the culture that exists in these small German towns that are still rooted in their former cold-war ways and yet still long for the “west”. So, next time you’re in Schwarzburg, head up to the Weißer Hirsch, and say hi to Elvis for me (or don’t, there are probably much better places to eat). Aside from all this, it must be said that the town is beautiful (a former East German hotspot that’s fallen on hard times since the unification), and the pension was amazing: inexpensive, good facilities, a nice view, and a tremendous breakfast.

We saw off our friend Andrew, who came down from Gotha to take in the night life, and decided to walk down to the end of our allotted section of river, the Schweizerhaus, before fishing back up to Schwarzburg. The fishing was great, the closer you got to the Schweizerhaus. I can imagine it only gets better the closer you get down to Bad Blankenburg, especially since that section is a wade-free section. I tied on some attractors, a Wulff and Adams, and pulled trout after trout out of the river.

…but there’s always that one. The one you’ll remember from the trip. It’s not always its size that makes the catch memorable; it might simply be the take. For me it was the situation and the take. As Guido and I were walking downstream, I noted a section of the river which ran along a stone wall. It would be by far the most productive section for me, and it’s also where I met Herbert. Herbert was holding up against the wall, and once I saw him, I had to have him. It only took one cast (and that’s not usually the case) and I was able to get a decent drift right over him. But his take was a beautiful one: a nice, subtle tilt of the head, lips barely breaking the surface; and boom. He was on, and I was smiling. Like most trout, he wasn’t astoundingly big, but he was fat and healthy. And, well, he made my trip. Thanks Herbert.

So, make your way to the Schwarza. And try to teach the Germans a thing or two about catch-and-release.