End-of-Season Panic!

Trip Report by Corina Cathomen

In the corner of the world where I am from, the Swiss Alps, trout fishing season is not long, May 1 – September 15. And for the first month you’re not allowed to wade in the streams, to protect the hatchling young trout hidden on the bottom.

So in a normal year, I start wading and fishing my sublime mountain streams in early June. Not so in 2026. Europe and Switzerland, including my corner of the Alps, got hit badly by the 2026 heat summer (global warming summer). It brought tears to my eyes over and over, seeing my beautiful home glacier melting away, seeing my wild and playful streams tame and shy of water and imagining how desperate my trout must be trying to survive in the warming streams.

Giving these circumstances I took a decision, not a simple one. The people who know me know how much I love to wade the mountain streams, to become one with them, casting my tenkara fly towards a potential catch. Saying no to a fishing season is almost as hard as saying no to a skiing season… I say almost, because skiing is my life, it’s the moment when I become one with the mountain (but that’s a separate story…). I decided to say no to fishing to protect the trout during this difficult heat period, not to stress them more than they already are.

So here I am now, approaching September 15 – the last day of trout fishing season. And suddenly, PANIC clicks in. Panic that I missed a whole year of fishing, fishing that has become part of me. What to do now? I check my agenda, work around schedules and yes, I find a way to free a day, Sunday, September 13, tomorrow. Here I am, exhausted from a tough work week, after a 2-hour drive, sitting at my table in my mountain home, with a fishing license on my phone for 24 hours starting tomorrow, September 13 (in the three languages spoken in my home canton of Graubünden – German, Italian and my native language of Romansh):

OK – so now what’s next? Hmmm… My fishing equipment has been sleeping all around the house for almost a year. Where to start ? 

Time for bed – I’ll continue the story tomorrow, Sunday, September 13. Good night, dear readers.

Sunday early morning, September 13, 2026:

Had a wonderful sleep, and I’m ready for my first 2026 tenkara casts. A good feeling – two days before the season closes. Off I go, with a picnic in my bag.

Driving up the narrow valley, where my ancestors came from (some of them also fished the same waters I will fish today), brings joy to my heart & soul. The valley is still sleeping, only on the top of the mountains you can see the golden sun greeting the day. 

After parking the car I sign in on the fishing app (stream, stretch, time) and check the regulations before I walk down towards the small stream, which in fact is the mountain beginning of the Rhine River. I’m equipped with my DRAGONtail Mutant zx380 (after all these years of tenkara fishing still my favorite rod). Feels good to be here! Stepping my wading boots into the 7 Celsius cold and clear water almost feels like the click-clack of snapping the ski boots onto the skis in winter, both to become one with the mountain.

First couple hours I have only a few bites – but hey, that’s already more than I expected and hoped for after the initial panic of missing season 2026. Many small trout shoot around my feet as I wade up the stream; it’s like a dance – the trout telling me not to worry, they made it through the heat. My heart brims with joy – the world is still ok up here.

The cold water is crystal clear and I can see every little move of the fish and realize that they can also see every one of my moves – no wonder I had only a few bites so far. My hands are freezing and it’s almost impossible to tie a new fly to my line. I left the coffee thermos in the car and now regret it. Well, what shall I do? Just as I was debating going back to car or trying to survive the cold, I realized that the sun was starting to brighten up the riverbed, like an awakening, a sublime moment that made me forget the cold and pain in my fingers:

From that minute on everything changed! I didn’t feel cold anymore and the trout seemed to greet the day by biting and biting my fly. Within a couple hours I found more than 20 trout and landed 11 of them. To their luck (and kind of also to mine, for several reasons) they were all under the minimal size of 22 cm (about 8.5 inches), so I released them all, handling them with care in the water. In the Alps you are only allowed to fish with barbless hooks, so that fish don’t get injured when you free them off the hook.

I forgot time and hunger, kept wading and wading until the stream became very small. Was quite a walk back to car. I wasn’t done fishing – was having too much fun to call the day. Small coffee break at the car and off to one of my favorite little pools in the valley, right under an ancient Roman bridge. Very difficult to fish, because it’s so clear and the trout see you approach.

I sneaked up, casted and casted, the trout kept approaching my fly like small submarines, and turning away, over and over. A game of patience. I didn’t give up, changed flies about 4 times, and then – finally had a success! One bite –and I landed it! Yay! It almost had the minimal size:

The princess was released and is now swimming happily until we meet again…

Time for a treat:

My initial plan was to fish in the morning, go home and rest, then go back out in the afternoon. Well, plans are here to be changed. It was already mid afternoon and I decided to continue and go further down the valley where the Rhine is larger. Try my luck.

It paid off so well! I had the best cast ever! I remembered what my amazing and patient tenkara teacher William kept telling me, I had his words in my ears: ‘think like a trout’… Where would I sit if was a trout? My eyes went to a boulder, I casted and missed, I casted again and wham! there was trout – on my hook ! Yay!

To end my first & last fishing day of the season 2026 I caught another beauty of the crystal mountain streams (also too small) – she brought me to a total of 14 catches – my biggest success ever! Not bad for a Panic day…

Home, safe & sound, tired, sore… and extremely happy – 2026 was a short, intense and successful season. Thank you, dear readers, for following me along.

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Corina Cathomen, language & nature lover, lives and works in Switzerland. First language Romansh (one of four national languages of Switzerland); English 3^rd language (of 7) – may explain some ‘missing in translation’! You can read more about her journey as a tenkara angler in the Alps here.

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