The farther you travel to fish the more pressure you feel. That’s human nature. When you fly all the way down to Patagonia and it’s only natural to expect good things to happen. If the wind comes up, the water’s low, the trout are particular or you lose your dream trout then it’s a long flight home, no matter how much Malbec you drink. The trick is to escape the burden of high expectations, while still fishing in stunning surroundings. You could return to the same water— it helps if you live in Montana — and you budget in angling success and a few requisite disasters. Or you could go to Spain.
Now you might ask, Are there trout in Spain? There are indeed trout in Spain, if fact it’s one of angling’s great unknown destinations. The Pyrenees has superb fishing, though the locals prefer to keep a low profile. You may recall that Jake Barnes goes fishing in “The Sun Also Rises” as did the author, Hemingway himself. Jake actually fishes worms (blasphemy!) while his more patrician friend Bill casts a McGinty fly. In the book they fish on the Irati river, which is closer to San Sebastian — we’re focusing our attention on the Aragon region, a two-hour drive north of Barcelona, not far from French border.
Fishing in Spain turns out to be a civilized affair. Away from the city, mountain towns give way to gorgeous river valleys. The best way to enjoy the area is to contact Salvelinus, an outfitter founded 25 years ago by Iván Tarin. Iván is a charismatic figure, with a nose, slightly turned, that invites speculation that he boxed in his youth. He’s good company in a tavern and, crucially, a superb guide on the water.
His project, refined over decades, has been to find public water that holds good size brown trout. He seeks out rivers across a vast region and determines when they’re in season. And, like all good anglers, he appreciates secrecy — he may have been involved in espionage in a previous life. To ensure good fishing he maintains an information blackout with the stealth of a John le Carré hero. After all, if the masses descend on the rivers the fishing will suffer.
Salvelinus has no Instagram account, unlike every nearly every other outfitter. Iván doesn’t even want you taking iPhone photos on the water with their revealing geotags, so keen is he to maintain his locations. In a world of ridiculous angling self-promoters fighting fish in slow motion along with rock soundtracks, Tarin is partying like it’s 1959. Unlike everybody else in the industry, he makes no false promises.
I visited him last fall and the balance of culture and food, angling and scenery, was an delight. Iván and his team can tailor trips for couples, depending on your priorities. You can stay at lodges or rustic inns. The day starts with a leisurely breakfast. You may not have ordered any Manchego or one of the superb dry sausages of the region, but they will be on a cutting board on the table and it would be incurious not to try.
After a short drive you arrive at a stone medieval mountain town, Roda de Isábena, which dates for the 10th Century. A wonderful guide, Maria José, takes you around the town and the local church and you enjoy the views across the immense river valleys. The cultural side of the trip can be seasoned to your taste and Maria José is with you at every stop. On my trip, we visited a local vineyard, where we enjoyed an ambitious lunch followed by local folk music. Another morning we went on a nature walk along a reservoir in the valley, and more ambitious mountain hikes can also be arranged.
Now it’s time to fish. One on day, we parked near a field, though there was no sign of water. We walked along walnut trees before bushwacking through some dense paths. This is clearly not widely visited and Iván brandishes a machete to make room for us to pass. This is far from the mowed banks of the Test, (though there are plenty of options for the more reluctant hiker).
We hear the river before we see it and suddenly the bushes give way to a small river flowing beneath a canopy of trees. Casting is a bit tricky — we’re using a tungsten head nymph. As the line drifts along the current it stops abruptly: a fish. I raise the rod to set the line and see a flash of gold, the instantly recognizable flank of a brown trout. The first good fish in a new river always manage to surprise me. We land a real fish, approaching eighteen inches.
Over the course of a week we went to a different river each day and we did manage to cast dry flies (if that’s a priority for you then consider visiting early in summer). We caught fish regularly, some in the coveted twenty inch zone. Every trout felt like a gift, something that doesn’t happen as often as it should. Reflecting on the day over a glass of wine in the evening, I smiled realizing Iván’s secret expertise had worked to perfection.
