Fly fishing, St. Michel-im-Lungau style.

Our annual fly fishing trip was rapidly approaching, and the absolutely horrific weather outlook wasn't improving. Friday, the first day of our three day fishing trip, looked grim. The forecast was for a torrential downpour, and in an alpine stream, that means no possibility of fishing. Nonethless, we hopped into Mark's champagne colored convertible land boat and began the 6 hour drive deep into the heart of Austria, ready to fish and full of optimism.

Six or seven hours later, after some horrific bouts of traffic, we arrived at our unbelievably cheap and well outfitted B&B, ran an extremely wet 10k along the absolutely unfishable Mur river, went out for some good food and beer, and hurried back to read our kindles. (Seriously.)

The next morning we met our contact, the man with the priceless fishing permits. Surprised that we even showed up, he took pity on us and gave us a hefty discount on the pricey day cards (50 euros a day, by far the most expensive part of the trip), spent 45 minutes explaining every miniscule section of river in great detail, and then showed us the old, defunct hotel he lived in all alone. It was an impressive place, full of history and dark wood.

We shook hands, took our permits, and made our way up to the Rotgüldensee, an alpine lake that was part of the section we were permitted to fish, and one that would present our only possibility to catch anything.



We hiked for about an hour, climbing 400 meters into the mountains, and saw a beautiful lake, albeit one that had a very high water level and extremely steep sides. It wouldn't be easy to fish.



We walked around for a bit and found a a small river flowing into the lake. Char were visibly feeding a mere yard away, and while there was maybe a doormat sized space for each of us on either side of the outlet and any sort of conventional cast would be impossible, this was clearly the only place we could fish in the current conditions.



Fortunately there were fish rising within rollcast distance. A few hours later, we'd caught 20+ fish, mostly small, but very feisty. At our feet were char feeding subsurface, 10 feet further out were trout, and at the limit of our messy rollcasts were grayling, eagerly pouncing on surface insects. I'd never caught one before, and on this day I ended up catching three, the biggest was 14 inches with linebacker shoulders.



We were getting cold (there was visible snow, not a first for our august fishing trips), called it a day, and headed back down the mountain to enjoy some more good, cheap food, and hope that the river calmed a down a bit by the next morning. At least the skunk was off, and we both agreed that even if we didn't catch a fish at all the next day, the trip would nonetheless be a success.

Back at the lodge, we met a pair of older French guys, who'd been coming to fish the Mur for decades. Naturally they told us of the good old 60+ fish per day days, and how good the weather was the previous week, but they also gave us some location tips, and even a few hand tied flies.



The river had certainly gone down, and cleared up quite a bit, but it was still high, and fast. The wading was slow and dangerous, so we moved our way upstream to where the water thinned out a bit, and managed to get some more trout on dries.



I spent most of the day at a deep pool, trying my luck for something bigger with a weighted streamer. The force of the waterfall was ridiculous, and standing in the wrong location made casting an excercise in futility. I didn't catch the big one I was hoping for, but I did catch my first, and only, traditional rainbow of the trip, as well as a smaller trout with an oddly deformed dorsal fin.



We slowly made our back to the lodge, stopping at plenty of places to fish along the way. It was an great trip, and we both agreed that had the weather cooperated, it would have been a phenomenal trip. We'll be there next year, this time with a float tube, assuming they're allowed.



 

Translation of Swiss fish names

Zander? Namaycush? Fario? What? Here’s a quick rundown of Swiss fish names and their American English equivalents.

Regenbogenforelle (Oncorhynchus mykiss) - Rainbow Trout

Bachforelle or Fario (Salmo trutta fario) – Brown Trout

Bachsaibling (Salvelinus fontinalis)  – Brook Trout

Namaycush (Salvelinus namaycush) - Lake Trout

Seesaibling (Salvelinus alpinus) – Arctic Char

Egli (Perca fluviatilis) – European Perch, very similar to Yellow Perch

Hecht or Esox (Esox lucius) - Northern Pike

Schwarzbarsch or Forellenbarsch (Micropterus salmoides) - Largemouth Bass

Sonnenbarsch (Lepomis macrochirus) - Sunfish, Bluegill

Zander (Sander lucioperca) – Practically indistinguishable from a Walleye

Felchen (Coregoninae Coregonus) - a type of Whitefish

Trüsche (Lota lota) – Burbot

Aal (Anguilla anguilla) - European Eel

Karpfe (Cyprinus carpio) - Carp

Äsche (Thymallus thymallus) - European Grayling

 

There’s more fish that don’t really have an American equivalent, such as the Wels, a giant european catfish reaching hundreds of pounds (and yes, it is possible to catch them in Switzerland!) or the Alet, which is most likely some sort of chub, and you’ll see them in most rivers and catch them occasionally while fishing for trout. In some cases (like Carp) I’ve not listed all the relevant subspecies because I don’t fish for carp and don’t really know what the sportfisher relevant subspecies are.

Here is also a great downloadable image of Swiss fish species provided by the WWF.

My shameful secret

I like eel. Not so much eel fishing, but I really like to eat eel so when the weather warms up, I'll occasionally head down to the river in the evening with some beer, worms, a spinning reel, a little bell to affix to the rod and a dozen or so rags that I absolutely never, ever will want to use again. More on the rags later.  As much as I'd like to catch eel on the fly and  have heard of people doing it, I'm strictly a meat fisherman on these humid summer evenings and there's no way I'm getting the fine cork handles on my relatively expensive fly rods covered in eel jizz. And I always mostly do this alone. Not so much because I want to hide my shame from others, although that's probably a subconscious part of it, but because the minute I tell people what eel fishing entails, they stammer and come with a hundred different excuses that never seem to come up when  I suggest trout fishing.

They’re really, really good to eat. Very rich, with excellent flavor. The small ones are best, otherwise, as my best friend remarked, it’s like eating a penis. (A big part of the reason he’s my best friend is because he allows himself  to be pressured into participating in  disgusting pasttimes like this.) If you do find yourself with one of approximate penile thickness, avoid cutting it into approximate penile length, it’s pretty disturbing.

They’re hard to handle and difficult to kill, so you’re going to have to resign yourself to lots of mess and blood and guilt and tears. Think of it like a lobster, too stupid to feel pain. True? I have no idea, but it makes me feel better.

Grab the eel with a rag, which is easier said than done because the moment you grab it, it twists around the rag, your arm, and the nearest drawer handle with surprising strength. It will be trying to bite you while secreting more eel goo, which is another reason to go for the smaller ones. The big ones bite harder.

Now, kill the eel. I won't go in to exactly how, because opinions vary, and nothing really seems to work properly.

Now, once you're sure the eel is dead, using another knife, cut through the skin below the head, all the way around. Now take needle nose pliers, and gripping tightly (I can’t stress this part enough), peel off the eels skin like a sock. Now, turn it over, gut it, clean the body cavity, and cook. I find a perverse sort of fun in the eel fishing itself, and even the cleaning and messy stuff is all worth it the end, as it’s pretty much the only way to enjoy a geniune Unagi bowl in Switzerland. They're also damn good grilled on skewers with bacon and sage.



 

Swiss fishing clubs, the breakdown.

When it comes to pretty much any hobby, the Swiss are very fond of clubs. Fishing is no exception. Fischervereine, as they are known here, are everywhere. They vary greatly in size, benefits, and fees, so it pays to do some research, but I would highly recommend that every interested Fisherman or woman look into joining one. Fisheries laws vary greatly by Canton. Some, such as Glarus and Graubunden, offer a Canton-wide fishing license, while others, such as Zürich, lease out the rights to individual bodies of water and stretches of river. Both systems have the obvious drawbacks and benefits, fishing pressure is greatly reduced in places where only a handful of people have fishing rights, while getting those fishing rights can be difficult or downright impossible for some of the more desirable beats. These fishing clubs are generally in charge of one or more bodies of water, with entrance to the club facilitating access to the beat. It might be a section of river or a small pond or reservoir stocked with pike or walleye. The clubs generally hold events like fly tying sessions, hatchery visits, weekend and day trips in Switzerland and abroad, casual monthly meetings at a bar or restaurant, or a year end dinner meeting, but you’ll also likely be expected to help out once or twice a year when it comes to cleaning your clubs’ waters, but since these oftentimes mandatory meetings are mostly followed by fishing, grilled bratwurst, and lots of beer, they’re not nearly as bad as they sound. Most importantly, you’ll meet other like-minded folks. Don’t let the language barrier stop you, many of the people I’ve met in these clubs speak English, and will love to talk with you about where you’ve been fishing. Costs vary, depending on things like the quality or amount of water the club is responsible for, or if you live in the same Canton as the fishing club. Generally speaking, the fees are affordable and definitely worth the benefits.

Here is a link to Petri Heil’s list of Fischervereine. It’s in German, but that shouldn't stop a determined fisherman. Just click on a canton, and scroll down for a list of clubs and the relevant contact info.

Fish Report: Wägitalersee 28/08/2009

Two years ago, my wife bought me a float tube for my birthday. Today was the first day I used it, and I have no idea why I waited so long. Sure, it’s more complicated than using one in the US, but I’ve had a list of lakes where they’re allowed for years now, so I have no excuse.

I went to Wägitalersee, a put and take lake very popular with conventional trout fisherman, less so with flyfishermen. I bought my day card after waiting in a surprisingly long line for a Friday, and then I had to find a suitable place to use the float tube, which was easier said than done. The lake is quite big, but there were a ton of shore and boat fisherman. Use of the float tube is confined to within 50 meters of shore, and the long, heavy spinning rods used by the shore fisherman here can easily cast farther than 50 meters. I drove around for a bit, and found a decent stretch of unoccupied rocky shore. Unfortunately, I had to climb down a steep hill through woods with my waders, backpack, and inflated float tube while wearing flip-flops. Finally, I was ready to fish! I fished from a kayak in California, but this was my first time in a float tube and I loved how stable and comfortable it is. I got the hang of it in no time, and while I was worried about having to cast differently, it worked just fine. I used a streamer most of the day hoping for some trout, but the water was still pretty warm and the trout stayed deep. I caught a few alet, including one that was about 40 cm and a pretty fun fight, especially from the tube. I called it quits around two as the wind kicked up and made casting a little dangerous and difficult. All in all, I love the float tube, love my wife for buying me one, and will definitely use it again soon, probably at the nearby Klöntalersee. The Wägitalersee can be a little too crowded for my tastes, especially on weekends, though I’m pretty confident of being able to catch a few trout near the shore when the weather cools down like I did last year.
Decisions, decisions.

Fish Report: Beschlinger Weiher, Austria 12/07/2009

One of the many benefits of joining a fishing club in Switzerland is that they’ll generally organize trips to places you wouldn’t otherwise know about. The Beschlinger Weiher in Austria is one of those places. It’s a gorgeous little steel blue pond in Austria just over the Swiss border, outside of Nenzing.



It belongs to an Austrian fishing club, and the rules are pretty strict. Flies only, no streamers, and no large hooks. (I forgot the exact size.) About 5 of us met at a Gas station outside of town where we purchased our day licenses and some beer and lunch, and we made our way to the lake. Trout were pretty visible, but there were few rises. Nonetheless, we all started out with dry flies, and after an hour or so of nothing I switched to a nymph and hooked a 32cm trout. It was the first time I’d tried out my new Sage Fli 6 weight, and this was a fitting debut fish.



I hooked but lost another one shortly thereafter, had some lunch, and called it a day after no one caught any fish for a few hours. I found out later that there was evening rise, and everyone else caught multiple fish, but as a new father, my fishing days have been limited to mornings lately. As always, I’m just happy to be out fishing, even if it is for a just a few hours.