Barrington Ties

Perhaps some anglers frequent particular waters simply because they hold good populations of fish. However, the motivation behind returning to a favourite location is rarely that straightforward, with a number of nuanced reasons contributing to our decision. Combined, the powerful emotional lure they generate can foster a strong reverence for an area that sometimes borders on the spiritual. To crudely paraphrase Aristotle, the whole fishing experience is greater than the sum of the many parts that produce it.

The upper Barrington River, on the Barrington Tops north of Newcastle in New South Wales, is a place that evokes such feelings. The unique subalpine environment, cool clear streams, ancestral connections and the fellowship and memories created from past angling experiences all contribute to this sense of place.

THE RIVER

The Barrington River begins as three small rivulets at the top of Edwards Plain, which is named after Bill Edwards, an early pioneer of the area. Like most streams on the Barrington plateau, these creeks are genuine small-stream fisheries. They emerge from the southern fringe of the Barrington Tops at around 1500 metres above sea level and then snake their way through an attractive open subalpine plain covered in reeds, sphagnum moss and snow grass. The plain itself is flanked by hills and ridges on which stand twisted and gnarled snow gums that have been shaped and stunted by the cold and harsh weather systems that punish the area.

Eventually, the waters combine at the bottom of the plain at the aptly named Junction Pools, a chain of water holes scattered with large basalt and granite boulders. The river then meanders downstream through a combination of nice runs and deep soil holes, which present plenty of challenges for the keen fly fisher. At the moment this area is off limits due to an exclusion zone created by the discovery of phytophthora bacteria, a soil borne disease that causes dieback in vegetation.

The upper Barrington is one of the only streams in the area that is now largely a wild trout fishery. Due to restrictions placed on stocking trout in the National Park, the opportunity for stocking is limited. However, the small gravel bottomed tributaries that flow into the Barrington along its upper reaches create ideal spawning grounds. By May, fish start to congregate in the gravel beds at the bottom of the pools and are clearly visible as they begin their spawning process. Cold winter temperatures, regular snowfalls and high annual rainfalls support this process, which is evidenced by the good numbers of trout that move throughout the system.

THE MEMORIES

My first memory of the river was over 40 years ago, when, as a young boy, I followed my grandfather along Edwards Plain. He was a devotee of the now less used fly fishing technique of dapping. I remember him lifting his rod and trying to use the wind direction and speed in order to land the fly delicately on the dark narrow glade of water before him.

As we wandered, he told of his experiences as a young man riding to the Barrington River to fish with his father and then years later bringing his own family, including my father, to the area to fish the same streams. He also pointed out a number of the remaining historical features along the stream that were connected to the hardy stockmen that moved cattle onto the high country each year.

My grandfather was a much better horseman and judge of livestock than he ever was a fly fisherman, and I don’t remember him landing any fish that day. However, the experience triggered a need to return, which has never left me.

A few years after walking the stream with him, I caught my first fish on a fly in these waters, this time in the company of my father, Ray, who had entrusted me with his Fenwick glass flyrod. Following an amateurish cast, the poorly presented wet Royal Coachman somehow fooled a small unfortunate rainbow into taking it. As I had completely missed the strike, I am still pretty sure that I was more surprised than the trout when the line eventually came tight.

These days, I mostly fish the Barrington with my father and we made this special location a priority last season, particularly during the summer months, when the fishing is more reliable. While winter and early spring were unusually dry in the Hunter and Mid North Coast regions during 2023 due to a persistent El Nino cycle, by late spring regular rain events were maintaining a good flow. This, along with the warmer weather and longer days, was producing some excellent fishing conditions that we were keen to exploit.

THE FISHING

The open nature of the streams running through the plain often make fishing in the middle of the day quite challenging. In the relatively clear, slow flowing water, the small holes appear like fish bowls. Without too many deeper riffled runs to move into, the trout become reluctant to venture far from the safety of the undercut banks. For this reason, our fishing trips this summer mostly started in the warm mid-afternoon period as the sun began to drop, which also coincided with the highest amount of insect activity on the water.

Due to the cold climate, early season fishing on the Barrington River can be challenging for the dry fly purist. At around 1500 metres above sea level, winter snowfalls are relatively common, the frosts brutal and the south-westerly squalls notorious for cutting through even the best quality windcheaters. As a result, beetle and insect activity is quite low early in the season, which can make the resident trout picky feeders.

Late spring and summer is the best time to fish the higher plains. The hatches on the Barrington River, being unpredictable and generally quite small, means that the trout can be opportunistic feeders. Most well-presented mayfly, beetle and emerger patterns will encourage a strike during the warmer months. Flies such as the Royal Wulff and ever-reliable Elk Hair Caddis are always worth a try. Old favourites, such as the Red Tag, which is always Dad’s go-to fly at the start of the day, will also account for a good number of fish.

A short dropper of about 30 centimetres attached to a small black or brown seal’s fur nymph or midge emerger can be a good insurance policy for fish that are moving up through the water column. Black or brown bead heads also work well as they get into the strike zone quickly and take better advantage of the short drifts. The short drifts also require the actively feeding trout to commit a little faster, leading to a few impulsive fish being brought undone.

During high summer, the mountain hoppers are moving en masse among the snow-grass tufts on the banks of the streams. Great sport can be had engaging in close quarters sight-casting to actively feeding trout in shallower water. Even when fish are less active, delicately plopping hopper patterns near overhanging vegetation will often draw out concealed fish. Foam hopper patterns are extremely effective, particularly in brown, green and yellow variants down to about size 16. My own ‘agricultural’ versions seem to work fine, indicating that presentation is a key factor to success.

The exposed nature of the streams also means that an extremely stealthy approach is required. As the banks are often undercut or consist of soft swampy earth, the vibrations of an approaching angler can be transmitted many metres, potentially alerting fish well before the angler has even removed their fly from the keeper. Too close or too clumsy while approaching and all you are likely to see is a bow wave travelling upstream at a rate of knots.

While leaders don’t need to be overly long, with 8 or 9 feet of 5 or 6X being sufficient, casts are preferably made from cover, a number of metres back from the stream bank in order to avoid spooking the resident fish. Quite often, most of my fly line is laying across grass and reeds, with only the leader and a few feet of fly line on the water. As a result, accurate casting is the order of the day.

At normal flow, the small tributaries of the Barrington contain considerable weed lanes which limit the fishable water. Some spaces in between these lanes are only half a metre or less wide, meaning accurate casting is a must. Trout will often hold on the edges or underneath these banks of weed, waiting to ambush any passing food item while remaining close to cover.

Dragging droppers under a dry in this situation can be problematic, with short rigs of around 30cm or less being preferred to stop constant snagging on the weed just under the surface. We like to visit the stream when it is running with a flow of around 40 megalitres per day. This generally brings the water a few inches over the weed and allows for a bit more scope when drifting a dry across the small pools.

THE FUTURE

As we fished our way up the streams this year, we found ourselves comparing the quality of the experience 40 years ago with today, and concluded that this small fragile system has been surprisingly resilient despite the uncertain seasons, bushfires and growing fishing pressure. We surmised that the increasing trend of catch and release during this time has contributed to its longevity. Additionally, looking back on past fishing diaries, we found that our catch has changed from primarily rainbows to a majority of browns. Their general hardiness and wariness may be another reason the fishery has remained in good condition despite the difficult conditions.

The other thing we noted was the rapid spread of Scotch broom (Cytisus scoparius), which was introduced to a northern part of the Barrington Tops over 150 years ago and has gradually spread southwards. Dad recalled that until the 1970s, the whole stream was accessible, making it a popular fishing destination. Apart from its environmental impact and its limitation on back casts, the infestation of broom has undoubtedly sapped some of the magic from the place. Current efforts by NSW National Parks to spray and cut the plant near popular tourist areas are temporary solutions, particularly as the vigorous regrowth soon erases their good work. Sadly, it seems that until an effective biological control measure is discovered, the scourge will continue to spread.

After successful trips throughout the summer, some leaner autumn trips brought us back to earth, reminding us of the humbling emotions fly fishing can encourage. No matter how many years one has spent on a stream, there are times when this experience and familiarity counts for nought and we are forced to experiment with new strategies, that will be tested next summer.

During the season my children started to join my father and I on our Barrington River fly fishing adventures. They listened to their grandfather tell the same tales I was told by my own Pop, 40 years earlier, with a few newer familiar ones thrown in. As I watched on, I could not help but think and hope that maybe one day, many seasons into the future, I will accompany my own grandchildren along this wonderful stream and add yet another chapter to the Barrington River story.