Bulgaria: An Undiscovered Brown Trout Paradise

Bulgaria:

An Undiscovered Brown Trout Paradise

It’s been the same every year since I first held a fishing rod. As winter turns to spring and the days gradually get longer, my dreams start evolving around my two favourite freshwater fish – brown trout and pike. This is when the excitement of the coming season becomes almost unbearable!

By: KATKA SVAGROVA Photos by: KATKA SVAGROVA and STANISLAV MANKOV

The pandemic affected the spring of 2021 in an unprecedented way – and it certainly affected my fishing plans. I can catch pike in my beloved Czech Republic, but when looking for great brown trout fishing the options are rather minimal.

Travel restrictions limited my options to Europe. As a result, I phoned up a few friends and searched the Internet for ideas. I must confess, the idea of fly fishing for brown trout in Bulgaria had never previously been on my radar. I knew roughly where Bulgaria was, I had heard that the countryside was beautiful, and I knew of the capital, Sofia. However, it wasn’t until I contacted local guide, Stanislav Mankov, (initially to talk about brown trout fishing in the Balkans), that my attention was drawn to the brown trout fishing in Bulgaria – Stanislav’s home country.

A bonkers idea?

I was sceptical at first, but Stan soon convinced me that there were great fish to be caught in his country and that the fishing was worth traveling for. He is a professional guide and competitive fisherman with mutual friends, and – luckily - I gave him the benefit of the doubt.

Who has ever heard of trout fishing in Bulgaria

I mentioned to another fishing buddy that I was off to Bulgaria. He laughed and pulled a face; “That’s a bonkers idea! Who has ever heard of trout fishing in Bulgaria?” Well, my father taught me that fortune favours the brave. And as I started my tentative planning, I gradually grew braver to the point that I was fiercely determined to check out this distant corner of Europe.

A direct flight to Sofia

With a direct flight from Prague, travel was a joy. All the stories about crowded airports proved to be nonsense; I travelled like a millionaire on a nearly empty airplane and with a minimum of fuss and stress.

Sofia is a bustling and beautiful city centred around the famous golddomed St Alexander Nevsky Cathedral and surrounded by snowcapped mountains. This was not what I was expecting. And it wasn’t the last pleasant surprise that was in store for me. The river, I was planning to fish, was only a couple of hours from the capital, yet I’d planned two days to tour the southern part of the country, towards the Greek border. If I’d come this far, then surely it would be thoughtless not to get a better idea of the country.

On the road in Bulgaria

Picking up my car, with a tingling sense of having escaped the tyranny of all the international Covid restrictions, I slung my gear in the trunk and headed south. The drive was beautiful, and I started wishing I had planned a few more days to spend in the Greek Mediterranean.

It might have given me time to try to catch one of its famous rainbow trout. Slowly heading towards the setting sun, I was greeted by wide, verdant valleys, towering mountains, snowy peaks, and endless beech woods; a vast area mostly characterized by sparse populations, small villages, and stunning sceneries. Again, this wasn’t what I was expecting. I drank local wine, ate local food, and heard compelling stories of hunting in the lonesome forests.

When my brief trip south was over, I headed back to Sofia. There, I refreshed, relaxed, and got ready for serious business: The fishing. Stan would soon be taking me to his favourite, secret trout river.

Managing expectations

Expectations are certainly a part of why fishing is so addictive; the fact that there is no such thing as certainty. However, having great expectations involves the risk of disappointment, and – I must admit - I’ve ended up disappointed rather often in the past. As a result, I’ve learned to lower my expectations when heading out fly fishing. And so I did in Bulgaria. There were two of us fishing the first day. Stanislav Mankov was our guide. My fishing buddy for the day was an experienced gentleman, but he wasn’t all too familiar with brown trout fishing. Therefore, Stan was to concentrate on helping him, while I was to go explore a bit on my own.

A slow-flowing river

The river flowed sedately through the lush-green valley, and everything looked very promising. Stan had told us that the water was a little lower than usual, but it – supposedly – wasn’t an issue.

We started fishing at around 10 am. These were club waters. Oftentimes very busy. On this day, however, we were luckily alone.

I couldn’t see any significant insect activity upon first inspection, other than a few mayflies darting chaotically across the water. The winds were moderate, and clusters of clouds slowly drifted across the sky switching the bright sunlight on an off.

Upstream nymphing

I decided to start upstream nymphing. I set up my 5-weight 10’ nymphing rod with a French nymphing leader and two flies. As an anchor fly, I used a gammarus imitation with a 3.8mm tungsten bead and as a dropper fly, I chose my all-time favourite; an Orange Tag with a 2.8mm gold bead. Since Stan had already stressed that these local trout can reach up to 75cm in length (6 - 8lbs), I immediately went for 4X tippet.

My rod doubled over, and I suddenly found myself shakingly nervous

I began fishing just below a small weir, making my way upstream. The key to French nymphing is to cast upstream and let the fly follow the current while keeping your line (a French nymphing leader) tight until your line stops moving or you feel a regular hit from a fish - then STRIKE immediately!

While walking slowly upstream you can cover a pretty large area within a short time. That’s one of the many reasons French nymphing is so effective.

Action-packed fishing

It wasn’t long before I had action. A small rainbow trout was quickly followed by a slightly larger brown trout. And then things really took off. I hooked into a monster! My rod doubled over, and I suddenly found myself shakingly nervous that my 4x tippet would eventually break. Stan came rushing to help land the fish. Shortly after, a rainbow trout of 70 centimetres was safely netted. I wasn’t expecting a personal best rainbow trout in Bulgaria, but that’s exactly what happened!

How do these fish get so large? I asked Stan. He pushed his left hand into the water, pulled out a handful of weeds, and pointed at it with his right-hand index finger. I immediately saw all the gammarus. The river teems with these crustaceans, which provide a stable and nutritious diet for the fish.

In the areas where the river is properly managed and strict catch and release practices apply, the trout can grow huge. Having said that, most rivers in this particular part of Europe aren’t very well managed. Most Bulgarian trout end up on a dinner plate before they grow big enough to really present a travelling angler with a trophy challenge.

Things heat up

As the day got warmer, Stan suddenly spotted the first brown trout feeding off the surface. So, we quickly decided to change to a dry fly. We could see fish feeding in two spots, about 75 meters apart. Wading quietly into position, we started preparing for the pivotal first cast. We singled out a good fish steadily sipping mayflies off the surface.

In my opinion (which I obviously kept to myself), Stan’s favourite fly looked very little like a mayfly, but he assured me it would work. I cast with great care and accuracy, diagonally upstream. The fly landed lightly on the slow-moving surface, the water clear and cool below. I carefully mended, to ensure that the fly wouldn’t drag, and prayed for a sufficiently tempting drift over the feeding trout. Persistence and care are the major factors, in my experience, when targeting rising trout. Do your utmost not to spook your target and land your fly delicately. Dry fly fishing isn’t a cowboy rodeo with line cracking and snapping like a whip; it’s a delicate, gentle, precision skill, aimed at landing your fly like a ghostly whisper. You’re trying to emulate an insect not a splashing pebble. If the cast doesn’t work the first time, repeat: Gently, carefully, precisely, confidently, expectantly; maybe slightly changing the angles. Well, on this occasion, my fish was hungry. On my second cast, the jaws of a specimen brown gently broke the surface and my fly disappeared.

“God Save the Queen”

Trout fishermen are taught to strike early, the opposite of what salmon fishermen are taught to do. And to a certain extent it makes sense, but not so with big brown trout. They are a bit different with their large oral cavities and slow takes, and it’s easy to strike too soon - a mistake I made a few times later in the day as I became a bit too complacent.

(Stan later said, “One should count slowly to three before striking - a bit like that old British salmon fishing tip of saying “God Save The Queen” before raising the rod.”) This time, however, I let the fish turn and leave for the bottom with its dinner before lifting my rod.

Trophy Sized Fish

My first Bulgarian brown trout on a dry fly was a splendid trophy fish of around 60cm. My fishing buddy soon hooked up with his own fish and on four different occasions, during the afternoon, we were fighting fish simultaneously, Stan darting back and forth between us with his landing net.

As the day progressed, I experimented a little and tried various dry fly patterns, including my favourite one in pink! Many of the flies worked really well, and there weren’t very many interims where we weren’t either casting to- or fighting fish. Of course, we also lost a few. My buddy hooked a ‘long-distance’ fish, which leapt clear of the water before spitting the hook. My guess is that it was 70cm plus, about as big as they get on this stretch of river. Among the fish I had this day, was one that I caught twice within about 40 minutes and some 50 meters apart. I’ve never knowingly done this before, but the photographic evidence was unmistakable: The fish had the exact same cheek pattern.

I guess this is just further evidence of how much the fish were “on“ this early spring day, with rising water temperatures and plenty of insect activity after a long, cold winter.

Stan and I returned to the same spot the following day. Things were a bit quieter then. We didn’t experience the hectic action of the previous day, but it was a great day’s worth of fishing, nonetheless.

I left Bulgaria promising both Stan and myself that I would return. With a knowledgeable guide, there is remarkable brown trout fishing to be had here – like a miniature New Zealand in Europe. It is also a beautiful country of natural wonders and captivating scenery, which deserves to be explored by traveling adventurers!

For more info, please refer to:https://mankovflyfishing.com