Fishing Wales: River Taff - Fishing Visit Wales

The grass is greener on the other side’ – how true a case within the angling World. You start fishing a Stillwater and see a lot of activity on the other side of the lake, so you relocate only to see the place where you have moved from come alive. Or on the riverbank, the next pool always looks so tempting and far fishier than the one you’re in.
In acute cases entire rivers or lakes may be disregarded, in disbelief that decent fishing could be had on something a stones throw away. Such is the case of the river Taff, which starts its course high up in the Welsh mining valleys of South Wales cutting its path seawards relentlessly towards Cardiff Bay. Until a few decades ago the Taff ran a very solemn shade of black. Then globalisation struck, the pits closed and discharge from the pits ceased giving nature a second chance. Granted, the Taff certainly won’t be the prettiest place that you’ve ever laid a line, due to the trees being dressed in an array of colourful plastics and shopping trolleys hatching out of most back-eddies, if you can put this aside and see past yet another one of man’s challenges for the Taff tremendous sport awaits you for a mere £4 a day.
Mentioning the spoils the river had to offer to Cliff a few months previous, he had promised to come visit that following winter. A man of his word, we had an early start on an unusually mild December’s day. Great fishing can be had along the course of the Taff, but today we would concentrate on the lower reaches – explaining to Cliff that great catches can be had right next to the millennium stadium in Cardiff City Centre.
It was mild, yet surface activity was slow. ‘Bugs’ and ‘nymphs’ seemed to be the order of the day; as such we geared up our 9ft rods with 8ft leaders and two heavy bugs. Cliff opted for a 4 weight, whilst I lined a floating line through my 6 weight. Grayling were to be our target species, however, a myriad of species inhabit the Taff – Trout, both Rainbow and Brown; Chub; Barbel; as well as migratory fish such as sea-trout and salmon.
Cliff needed no introduction to river Grayling fish, allowing us to search every ‘pocket’ and ‘crease’ like a finely tuned tennis duo testing for the opposition’s weaknesses. Would the ‘lady of the stream’ have a weakness for gold? They would have if they were like the ladies I know!

In fairness catching Grayling involves quite basic tactics and patterns, making them ideal target species for the Stillwater angler widening their horizons. If you have a 8 ½ - 10 ft rod rated anywhere between a 4-6 line you’re in business. A floating line is all that’s needed, coupled with some 6lbs nylon measuring around a foot less than your rod formed with a 1ft dropper 2ft from the leader point. Takes aren’t a case of ‘fish-hooks-angler’, close monitoring of the fly line is essential – the line stopping, dipping or moving to the side must be met with a strike, if not the fish will be gone; basically if in doubt strike. This can be taxing on the eye, as such specialist nymph-tip fly lines have been created incorporating fluorescent tips or bulbous ends to assist the angler. Alternatively, and cheaper, I prefer to role some fluorescent floating putty on my short braided leader, preserving my standard Cortland peach for alternative uses.
Your fly selection should largely be determined by the type of water to be fished; lighter flies for the shallower runs and pockets and heavier beaded versions for the deeper – assuming that surface activity is minimal of course. No casting is done, at all! Indeed your non-casting arm becomes redundant, tuck it away in a warm pocket, you will learn to appreciate this on cold winter days. Draw no more than 6ft of fly line out of the rod tip and tighten your drag to a tension that enables line to be drawn when a fight ensues but not too loose that river flow or a strike makes the spool turn. Position yourself directly across or slightly below the water to be fished, standing parallel with the riverbanks.
Start by dropping the flies below you, when the line straightens take the rod in an arc to an upstream position with a sharp flick catapulting your flies directly upstream. As the flies land and descend the rod tip begins quite low, slowly and gradually raise the rod tip as the flies progress towards you to a point that you’re not hastening the flies or leaving slack line on the water that would delay a strike. The next step is basically a repeat process of the first step, in reverse order. As the flies travel past you and to a downstream position gradually dip your rod correspondingly, again watching the line tip for anything untoward. Finally you will be back to the starting stage, hold the flies in this direct downstream position for a few seconds as it’s a deadly stage for takes, as the flies flutter up from the riverbed seductively mimicking a dislodged morsel. It may sound difficult at first, indeed fraught with mistakes for the first few outings, however, after a few outings and a few takes it will become gradually unproblematic.

There are a few essentials to this form of fishing. Firstly waders, you will invariably need to wade to reach some of the pockets and runs – for winter fishing either opt for some neoprenes or I use Simms layering system underneath my breathable waders, which means that I have one pair of waders that can be used in any season. Secondly polaroids, not so much to see fish but to allow easy tracking of the fly line tip and to monitor any takes that may happen when surface glare would otherwise not allow. Thirdly if you’re not a confident wader, or are unfamiliar with watercraft; don’t risk it, get a wading staff and lifejacket. Travelling light is a must, you may fish a great length of water in a day, as such carry the essentials and where possible carry everything you need in your pockets.
Cliff was well underway even before I had put nylon on my fly-line, making a fine start with a cracking late season Brownie on an olive Czech Nymph. Unfortunately the river was still fairly high, although clear, after the last flood which inhibited us from searching out every stretch of water. This wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, however, as when this happens you learn to appreciate what’s in front of you rather than wading over to the far bank to begin with, again the grass isn’t always greener on the other side!
We gradually worked our way downstream, picking off the odd Grayling here and there including some superbly conditioned 1lbs+ fish, which give a tremendous account for themselves when they get their huge dorsals up in the current. Takes were slow and we weren’t really bouncing bottom so we agreed that some depth chargers were needed. Sometimes with the powerful flows, even if the run isn’t that deep, some heavy flies must be used to get them straight down to the ‘killing-zone’. I opted for a double goldhead which also had a lead underbody, with Cliff also scurrying around for some titanicesque pattern. This did the trick and our catch rates certainly increased in the afternoon with both Cliff and myself catching some fairly decent Grayling and a modest quantity too.

It’s amazing how easy it is to escape from a city and be surrounded in nature; rabbits, squirrels hoarding, wild ponies and some cracking fishing. We made our way through an overgrown field towards the bottom of the beat, where time would unfortunately draw the day to a close. Still enough light for an hour or so fishing in we went. The day had already been more than successful, and pleasurable to boot. What happened next, however, was unprecedented yet more than welcome to say the least. The cast had more than fished out, there I was taking in the surroundings when I noticed the line stop. Lifting resulted in a very heavy contact, followed by a powerful surging run – This was no pounder! Heavy rapids were below me, which were constantly nagging as the fish intelligently creeped towards them. Some two-handed side strain finally succumbed its advances, collecting some diminutive control. Finally the back showed followed by some profanities we ascertained that I’d hooked a Salmon. A few minutes later we managed to get the fish on its side and slid it into the net. It certainly was no spring perfect silver beauty, indeed quite the opposite ripened ready for spawning. Out popped the hook and off slipped the salmon, leaving Cliff and myself elated to say the least.
To be honest the day could have ended there, and it probably would have if it weren’t for the odd rise we saw on the way back to the car. A few were picked off to round off a fantastic day, before nightfall was nearly upon us. The Taff certainly has much to offer the budding angler, on this day more than these anglers were expecting! Who knows you too may be this lucky, you certainly won’t find out resting in your winter slumber! For what have you got to lose?