The alarm rings, and at first, I wonder where I am. It takes a few moments before I remember that I’m not in my own bed but in a bed, in a small room, in a tiny house in the village of Newburgh in Scotland. My confusion can partly be explained by an early flight the day before and the fact that the clock shows only 3:45 a.m. However, it doesn’t take long before I’ve twisted out of bed and started getting dressed, realizing that I’m about to go sea trout fishing in a setting that is nothing short of spectacular.
By Håkan Karsnäser
(this artickle has been published in the online magazine “In The Loop Magazine”)
As mentioned, we are in the small village of Newburgh, barely 20 minutes north of Aberdeen in Scotland, and we are fishing in the estuary of the River Ythan. I, for one, had never heard of this area, but I quickly understood that it is a legendary sea trout water, considered by many to be one of the best in Europe. The river’s mouth is heavily influenced by the tides, which at their strongest, create a difference in water level of almost 5 meters! I’ve never experienced anything like this—back home in Sweden, the difference between high and low tide is only a few decimeters at most.
After the obligatory cup of tea, which our friends Billy and Mikey prepared while we got dressed and donned our waders, we squeezed into Mikey’s car and headed out for the first fishing session of the trip. We decided to start fishing at Trenches, the name of the street ending at the riverbank where the estuary begins. Upon arrival, we could clearly see that the water had begun flowing back out toward the estuary. Initially, it moved slowly, but within a short time, the speed increased significantly, and I realized that fishing for sea trout in this area was nothing like the fishing I do on Sweden’s west coast. It would be more like fishing in a raging spring flood.
I rigged my rod with a sinking line, Sink 3, to have any chance of getting the fly down in the fast water. On the leader, I tied one of the small white baitfish imitations Mikey had given me, then waded out until the water reached my thighs. We cast upstream and mended the line a couple of times to let the line and fly sink before starting to retrieve the fly with long, quick pulls. It didn’t take long before Billy hooked the trip’s first fish, which put up a fierce fight in the strong current. While Billy was fighting his fish, both Mikey and I had strikes, and suddenly, all three of us were playing fish at the same time. Morten, who had started the morning with a camera, was busy capturing the action. It turned out we had hooked some decent-sized sea trout, resulting in plenty of great fish photos.
The fish were carefully released, and we continued fishing. Despite the water’s strength and high speed, which gave the flies extra movement, the fish eagerly struck at our flies. We landed several more nice fish, but what surprised me was the sheer number of smaller sea trout. They were everywhere, and at times it was hard to get the fly down to try to attract the larger ones. After about an hour and a half, the larger fish either moved on or had eaten their fill, leaving only the smaller ones showing interest in our flies.
The sun rose, casting its light over the estuary and the surrounding landscape. If I hadn’t known I was in Scotland, I might have thought I was somewhere else entirely.
The receding tide exposed several hundred meters of beach, where wading birds, terns, and eiders feasted on mussels and other small creatures trapped on the exposed sand. Across the estuary, a rolling landscape of sand dunes stretched out, giving the impression of being in a much warmer place than the British Isles.
After another hour without landing any large sea trout, we decided to return to our house for brunch. The tide still had about an hour left before it turned and began to rise again. Six hours after it starts flowing out to the North Sea, it reverses and surges back into the estuary with the same force, flooding the previously exposed beach once more. This happens twice a day: twice the sea recedes, and twice it floods back into the estuary. This constant movement of water brings large quantities of small fish and crustaceans, which the sea trout and birds feast on. This abundance of food has also resulted in a large population of grey seals in the area. Outside the estuary lies a colony of up to 1,500 grey seals. These seals follow the food and tides into the river, and at high tide, there are plenty of them around. They are curious creatures, and especially the younger seals can appear quite close—sometimes just a few meters away—to get a closer look.
I personally experienced this curiosity during an early morning fishing session when I accidentally hooked a seal that was very interested in my fly. Naturally, the leader snapped, as it wasn’t designed for such a heavy “catch,” and I hope the seal quickly got rid of the poorly hooked fly.
Speaking of mishaps, I also managed to hook myself in the ear. Morten and I were set to go on a trip with a well-known local ghillie to fish from his boat. Despite having lucked out with fantastic weather during our week, it was still quite windy, especially when we started fishing just inside the estuary. I was fishing from the bow in a side wind coming from the left. A gust caught my fly mid-cast, resulting in it piercing my ear, barb and all. We quickly realized the hook had gone all the way through, and since we didn’t have pliers on the boat, I had to head back to shore. Billy decided we didn’t need to visit a clinic and instead had Mikey drive to Trench Lane. There, Billy knocked on the door of what turned out to be a very kind elderly couple, who promptly provided a pair of pliers. Billy quickly removed the fly’s barb, and soon, I was free from my unwanted earring.
You can have great fishing at both high and low tide, but during our week, the best fishing was overwhelmingly during the outgoing tide, especially in the morning. This might be because the fishing rules in Ythan prohibit fishing in the dark, giving the fish a break from anglers at night. Additionally, in Scotland, fishing for salmon and sea trout is not allowed on Sundays, which could explain why our first fishing day—a Monday—was particularly good.
Our guides, Billy and Mikey, don’t live in the area but have been visiting for over 20 years. During this time, they’ve developed a deep understanding of the flies and techniques that work best, and without their expertise, we wouldn’t have had such a successful trip. Unlike most others who fish with floating lines, they prefer sinking lines—both Sink 3 and Sink 5—and use relatively small flies, including baitfish imitations and soft-hackled flies in small sizes.
I can highly recommend this fishing experience to anyone who wants to enjoy world-class sea trout fishing. It’s relatively easy to get here. The town of Newburgh, where the River Ythan flows into the sea, is very close to Aberdeen. The estuary is so accessible that many fishing spots are within walking distance. Besides fishing, there’s a beautiful golf course right next to the southern shore, for those who’d like to combine their trip with something other than fishing.
Here is a few of the effective flies from the vises of Mike and Billy:
