Philip Weigall looks forward to evening rises
late in the season on rivers and lakes.

In fly fishing speak, sunset is merely late afternoon, just a signpost advising daylight has an hour or more to run. True nightfall is ages away and barely contemplated; a time for altogether different strategies, equipment, and even locations.

By late summer and through until mid autumn, evening trout action is at a peak. The weather is more settled and the worst of summer’s heat has gone, while at the same time it remains balmy enough to encourage a wealth of insect activity. Any serious angler who walks off the water while there is still a faint glow in the western sky, is leaving too early.

THE MOP-UP RISE
A highlight from late February until early April, the evening ‘mop-up’ brings trout to the surface on most lakes. At this time of year, large numbers of insects find their way on to the water during the day. Dead and dying species of aquatic origin—including damselfly adults and mayfly spinners—begin to accumulate from mid to late afternoon. Beetles, leafhoppers, grasshoppers and other terrestrials arrive on the water earlier, though again it is often late afternoon before the numbers really start to build up. Unlike emerging aquatic insects such as mayfly duns, insects arriving on the water from the outside world often seem to be overlooked by lake trout at first.

While this bug bounty is usually targeted during the day somewhere on the lake—particularly in windlanes or off calm points—large numbers of insects simply bob around unscathed. That changes after sundown. Do the trout suddenly become aware of the feast on the surface as lower light levels bring them up in the water column, or do they simply choose a time when surface feeding is less conspicuous to predators? Whatever the reason, the rise begins in earnest.

It is almost instinctive to head for the sheltered shore for evening, and I often abide by this strategy myself. However, if the wind begins to drop after sunset, and it frequently does, the exposed shore becomes a prime place to look for rises. Having blown towards this shore for hours, insects will now cluster along the narrow slick of oily water forming parallel to the bank. Those with boats may begin the evening searching the windlane relics, then they too may be better off looking for action along the shore. Even within range of the bank, boats may still provide a better platform for fishing, depending upon light levels and the best direction for visibility.

Speaking of visibility, this is crucial for success during the mop-up. Rise-forms are often subtle. Big browns especially have turned the delicate sip into an art form. Every year around this time, I find myself flicking a bored cast at the tiny rings of what must be a galaxiid or a baby redfin, only to find I’m suddenly attached to a very large and angry trout. Rise-forms like this cannot be located merely by a sweeping glance of the surrounding few hundred metres of shore. They must be searched out, and that often means moving back and forth along a promising bank. Be especially careful to look right in along the edge—in fact sometimes anglers on foot may need to periodically step into the water, to be sure of scanning the narrow strip of margin concealed among the confusion of reed beds, snags and overhanging vegetation.

The direction faced while searching will determine just how well and how far you can see. If possible, the obvious choice is to search towards the glow in the western sky, which in turn should illuminate the water in front of you. However, for various reasons this may not be practical, and in that case the best approach is to face a dark backdrop, like the face of a hill, or forest lining the lake’s edge. On shallow shores, anglers on foot can wade out and look back in to achieve this perspective. The proposition of looking towards a darkened lake surface to see better may seem absurd. But in fact rise rings appear as remarkably distinct silver flashes—much more distinct than rises in the colourless sheen of other water.

Choice of fly isn’t critical for these mopping up fish. It is probably more important that patterns behave properly, than have exactly the right look. The ideal evening fly in this situation floats well while penetrating the surface film, can be twitched without sinking, and is neither too large nor too small: say #10-14. Having some of the fly protruding through the surface film is important: much of the food being mopped up does the same, and flies adopting this posture can be located by the trout from further away. Lightly hackled deer hair beetle patterns or foam beetles are ideal, and dark versions cast a denser silhouette. Well-hackled high floaters are out.

Presentation is quite straightforward. Having located a fish, go after it aggressively, trying to land your fly directly in its path. If the food supply isn’t too excessive, the trout will move a metre or so for the artificial. However if the water is really thick with goodies, you will need to land the fly down the fish’s throat. For sporadic risers, or fish working a real soup of insects, try twitching the fly every few seconds. I can’t overemphasise the importance of really pursuing these evening trout—and this may mean literally running along an overgrown bank trying to get ahead of a cruiser.

RIVER MAYFLY
Away from the lakes, evening mayfly rises on fastwater rivers during the late summer to mid-autumn period are often some of the best of the season—at least this is generally the case in the north-east of Victoria. Whether little blue-winged olives, giant Kosciuskos, or versions inbetween, the duns will start to emerge some time around or after sunset. Later still, spinners will begin to lay their eggs and die, providing a second wave of opportunities.

A large part of the success equation on these rivers is, as estate agents say, ‘Position, Position, Position.’ The nymphs of most fast-water mayfly species like to utilise the crevices and gaps among the riverbed stones. In other words, they need clean gravel and rubble, which is most likely to be found in those areas frequently swept clear of sand and silt. Find these ‘freestones’, and you will find the places where mayflies live, and therefore emerge into sub-adult duns. Rapids, chutes and swift glides all conform.

However, my first choice for an evening emergence is a medium-fast riffle of moderate depth—say half a metre to a metre. Not only are these riffles ideal nymph habitat, but they are also perfect places for trout to hold and rise, and reasonable places to locate rising fish. The longer the riffle, the bigger the bug factory.

Early in the rise, trout feeding in swift and broken water will generally take better than those in sections of more leisurely flow. However, in heavy hatches, or as fading light makes visibility difficult, it may pay to move away from the chop and confusion of the broken water, to the tail of the next upstream pool—or to investigate the bubble line of the pool below.

Duns will emerge in the smooth water of a tail, for the accelerating water usually creates suitable nymph habitat some metres before it actually breaks. At the same time, those duns which haven’t successfully launched in the fast water will drift into the downstream pool. The result will be a steady trickle of flickering insects on the flatter water, particularly concentrated in the bubble line.

Fish rising steadily in these lazier currents have their advantages. While less likely to slash indiscriminately at any old thing, they do present a clear target, and it’s easy to keep track of the fly. Better still, in smooth water the very best trout can usually be distinguished from the rest, unable to disguise their big snouts, hearty swirls and broad swaying backs.

By the time you’re on this flatter water, the spinner fall won’t be far away. With luck, the attractive but useless sight of mayflies dancing in silhouette above your head, will be replaced by insects dipping down on to the water. Often there’s an overlap between the last of the duns, and the first of the spinners. Sometimes, there is actually a lull between the two, so don’t, whatever you do, walk back to the car just as soon as the duns and the rises stop—it may well be a temporary pause only.

Whereas dun feeders are liable to get a bit overexcited, even in calm water, evening spinner feeders are quiet, confident fish. Just suck’em down boys, they’re not going anywhere. Some evenings I can tell when the duns have been replaced with spinners purely by the sound and appearance of the rises.

Fly-wise, a basic mayfly spinner pattern (I prefer orange or red) usually does the trick for me once the spinner feeders are on. Sometimes you can continue successfully with whatever dun pattern worked, but always carry some spinners just in case. Speaking of dun feeders, they may require a somewhat imitative pattern, though a Royal Wulff or Grey Wulff is often all that is needed, especially in the faster water. Grey/fawn paraduns in match-the-hatch size, and with a white mast for visibility, are great all-rounders (if slightly less visible and buoyant than the Wulffs). Well-presented, these flies will usually fool the fussier trout. As a last resort, fish an emerger 30 cm behind an easy-to-see dry or wool indicator. Yes, a sunken nymph may sometimes beat all of the above, but
if there is any chance at all on the dry, that’s what I’ll persist with.

The impatient (and I’m guilty) may wish to start prospecting with a spinner/paradun double while they wait for the rise to start. Separate the two by 40 to 50 cm. On smaller streams though, leave the best water alone until the rise starts.

COMMON GROUND
Tactically, there are some common threads between fishing for the mayfly feeders and the lake fish described earlier. The same rules apply to obtain best vision: preferably fish facing a reflected western sky. Otherwise, as second choice, take a dark backdrop. The washed-out sheen of the in-between water is the worst for finding rises and fly. The concepts of walking and searching, as well as aggressively pursuing fish, are also relevant. Don’t just stand there waiting hopefully for something to happen. If there are no rises any more in the downstream bubble line move up quickly to the tail of the next pool for a look.

Pursuing individual fish is also important. You may not have to move 50 metres along the bank in the semi-darkness, but you do have to target one fish to the exclusion of others, and land the fly right down its gob. Find another victim only when you have caught the first one, or realised it’s a tiddler, or decided it’s completely uncatchable. During evening rises, scattergun fishing is as pointless on streams as it is on lakes.

GIVING UP TOO SOON
Some fly fishers I know must be concealing long careers as Test umpires. They fidget impatiently for 15 minutes after sunset, standing in the one spot, while glancing alternately at the water and their watches. They then wander back to the car, their belief in the nonsense of pursuing the evening rise vindicated yet again. On their way home the blazing street lights in the nearest town are no doubt noted with approval, further proof any self-respecting fly fisher should be safely indoors.

Sometimes the trout and insects will do us the service of providing action just after sunset, but more often we’ll be made to wait. It may be half an hour, even more, before the first rise. And by the way, the level of pre-rise activity is no indicator of what is to come. Some evenings it seems the water is dead, then the next minute it is boiling with fish.

All right, I will concede that not every evening in the lovely late summer to mid-autumn period produces the goods. There will be those times when something goes wrong at the last minute, like an ill-timed storm for instance. And very occasionally, for no apparent reason, there simply is no rise. But when it does all come together, would you dare miss it?