Simply put, I was itching to get on the water. I had put in some decent hours at my new job in Mainz, and, well, found myself surfing the web for a possible day trip. I knew I had to travel over to Halle to pick up some documents, so I thought I would test a new water in Thüringen (Thuringia). One of the first articles the wonder-working-google provided me was this.
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| Reminders of the trip |
I can't remember how many times during my travels as a graduate student that I stood on the bridge in Saalfeld, buying time before my connecting train arrived at the nearby station, and thought: "There's gotta be some nice fish in there." I wasn't certain, but I couldn't imagine the Saale being empty. The article confirmed all my underlying hopes. And it only took a few seconds before I was figuring out which friend would let me sleep one their couch, so I could get a full day in on the river.
The Australian came through. Nothing like having a good Australian friend. Great accents, great conversations.... and a free place to stay in Gotha. From Gotha it was an hour-and-a-half to Saalfeld. According to the (above-linked) article, I could have gone in two directions from the train station to fish: 1) South of the city (and then I would have had to buy my permission form from the Angel-Center Saalfeld-Rudolstadt) or 2) I could head up to the dam and work down from Hohenwarte. The article praised the upper section, so I jumped on the bus (#46, if my memory serves me correct) and headed up the Saale, drooling at every glimpse I got of the river. What I didn't know was that Hohenwarte stands a good two-to-three kilometers above the dam. I didn't come prepared to walk back down....nor did I want to. Yes, I'm lazy. Deal with it.
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| Posselt's Angelhuette, Hohenwarte |
I can't say enough for the people at Posselt's Angelhütte. I jumped out of the bus, walked down the street, and found myself greeted by a friendly man behind the counter. I asked him about the river, bought a permission form for the day, got a free orange drink (!!!), and....well...talked two older gentlemen into giving a lazy American down the river. They were off to go pike fishing downstream, and they showed enough curiosity in the strange fly fisher with a terrible accent that I was pretty sure I could wrangle them into a car ride. Knowing it will bring a smile to most of my readership, it's worth noting that their car was packed top-to-bottom with fishing gear; there was maybe enough room for a cooler of beers. They had to clear a spot for me in the back seat by shoving rods and cases into an odd pile that resembled some sort of freakish backseat passenger made of hackle, hooks, and graphite. It's my honest opinion that being a fly fishing bum is one of the few 'titles' one can hold and not be accountable for actually being an outright hippie. Who else travels around with a car-load of gear, granola bars, and feathers? Deadheads and....
As we drove down, they asked me where I wanted to be dropped off, and I kindly suggested they should toss me out of the car at the best spot they could image. So, after winding through a few villages, they pulled off a little above Tauschwitz. We exchanged information, handshakes, and a kind "Petri Heil" (the traditional greeting for fishermen in Germany) and I was off.
The river was a bit high, and both the guy at the shop and the two gentlemen suggested nymphing. I hate nymphing. You know what else I hate. Wading in freezing-cold tailwaters with nothing on except sandals and thin polypro. Yeah, the Saale is a tailwater...and it runs COLD. And forget about the nymphing. I'm not staring a floating indicator all day while my knee-caps freeze off.
Answer to my dilemma? Well, it was two-fold. 1) numbness and 2) the glorious black wooly bugger. I was quite comfortable with both after about five minutes in the water, and both were productive.
There wasn't much feeding going on, but I was able to connect with a few browns holding along the edges and hiding in the underwater vegetation. The fish weren't as hefty as I expected. And considering I was seeing the same size over and over, the bigger fish were probably holding in the deeper pools down-river. I also suppose (especially in the German context) that the bigger fish don't last through the season, but miraculously reappear after the river is restocked in the spring.
I got out of the river and got some lunch (a tasty Döner), regained some feeling in my toes, and bought some snacks at a Penny Market for the rest of the day. I crossed back over into the Saale and made my way down into the middle of Tauschwitz. By that time the cold water had gotten to me, but to my delight some of the more courageous, younger trout were rising. So, I switched to an emerging light bodied sulpher. Had a little action on the top, and then called it a day. I noticed towards the middle of the day, the Saale began to look more and more like an fly fishing emporium. It was the first time I had seen a German river get so much pressure. Keep this in mind as you're thinking about where to fish. If you hit up the Saale, you'll likely have some company.
As I sat there in the sun waiting for the bus to arrive, I watched an older gentleman wade up the main pool running through town and fish his homemade fly. He proudly showed it off to me as we chatted on the shore. The colors were wrong, and as he continued to work upstream, I don't remember seeing him net anything. Then along came the young guy. You know, all Orvis'd out. Working the same pool, he pulled out two or three fish. He looked around to make sure his victories were being noticed. Blech. I'd much rather fish with the homemade fly that had no chance than showboat with every bit of superficiality one can muster. But truth be told, I am more-often-than-not the showboat, seeped in pride, always looking to be noticed. It was a good reminder at the end of the day of the power of humility found in the Cross.
Oh! I forgot to mention. After jumping back into the river in the afternoon, I was mindlessly piddling away casting to the shore. I made a shorter cast and let the fly sit for a moment, and what I thought was a large rock turned out to be a nice sized carp (I think) that slowly gulped the bugger. It was a huge take, and with a hard turn by the fish, the fly got dislodged. By the size and shape of the mouth, I am pretty convinced it was a 5+ pound river carp. Man, that would have been a fun ride.
[One last memory: I ended up waiting for the bus for quite a while. Come to find out, the transit system doesn't even keep up with its own schedule. Apparently, on the weekends the buses run less often (than even stated on the weekend schedule), and you might be require to call them up and let them know you're waiting. A bus did come, but it left me with the task of figuring out a new train schedule to get back home.]
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