Fly Fishing in Burgundy

Soon I had my first hit. A quick, solid bump and then it was gone. I’d failed to set the hook. A burst of adrenaline, then nothing. I continued to wade and cast.

Before long I had another hit. This time my response was quicker, gentler. I set the hook and allowed the small trout to run briefly then began to reel. He thrashed, breaking free of the water then made another run, shorter, less forceful. I landed a beautiful brown speckled trout and looked around to see if Michel or my colleague were around to show off my prize. But they had already made there way upstream, so I removed the barbless hook from the small trout’s mouth and returned him to the current from which I had removed him only moments before. He disappeared in a flash, and I stepped several paces to resume casting.

We spent an overcast morning on this secluded river filled with darting trout. The fishing was challenging but rewarding. Small, savvy trout taken by wit and released with respect. I never saw another angler, and by the time Michel invited us to take a break for lunch, my rhythms had been successfully recalibrated to the soothing river and its rustic environs. The mist had evaporated and the sky was blue as we drove off to Quarré-les-Tombes for lunch.

We enjoyed lunch in this small, rural town followed by folk music and dances, and even met some of the friendly locals. We had the sense that Quarré-les-Tombes is not often frequented by too many tourists despite the mysterious and slightly haunting collection of sarcophagi displayed around the church; this pleased us with Michel’s choice. After eating, it was back into the Morvan to while away the afternoon on another even more idyllic river. I had considerably less luck fishing but enjoyed myself as much as I had during the morning.

When dusk neared we headed off toward Vauban for dinner and lodging at l'Auberge Ensoleillée (L'Auberge Ensoleillée Hôtel-Restaurant, Maison Blandin, 58230 Dun-les-Places (Nievre), 03 86 84 62 76). This extremely rustic inn had been highly recommended by our guide, and his expertise on the rivers during the day had earned our trust during the evening. We didn’t linger for long in our cramped quarters but headed down to the noisy restaurant, packed with locals. Michel ordered great quantities of all sorts of local delights including mounds of “cuisses de grenouille” (frog’s legs) drenched in garlicky butter and simply cooked “filet de sandre” (trout?), also swimming in butter. Plenty of very rich, delicious comfort food. And friendly service from the inn’s owner who waited on and chatted with us all evening.

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