22 Oct 2023

RAINY DAY RAINBOWS

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RAINY DAY RAINBOWS

         Waterproofs hanging drying beside the Wood-burner reflected the story of the previous day as we sat enjoying coffees and full English in the George Inn at Brompton Regis. I was with Snowbee Ambassador Jeff Pearce, Nigel Evans and Andy Jesson who had fished in a friendly competition at Wimbleball the previous day.

         The nine competitors had recorded thirty trout in a close run event that had seen them battling some pretty severe weather as the strong winds and rain of Storm Babet brushed the West Country. On practice day Nigel and Andy had boated 29 trout between them so were slightly baffled at the relatively reduced catches on match day.

         Breakfast chat included in depth analysis of match day and then diverged to include the problems of the wider world and the intricacies of drone flying. These included several accounts of expensive drone crash disasters that must have been stressful for their owners at the time yet highly entertaining in the subsequent retelling. Strange how tales of disaster are often recounted and savoured with an ironic humour frequently lurking far longer than successful events. A bit like the memory of a big fish lost at the net that lingers painfully for years.

         Feeling fortified we all set off for Wimbleball confident after referring to the latest from the met office inferring that today’s weather would be better.

         After five minutes with the bilge pump to empty the boat Jeff and I set off under grey skies to the sheltered waters of the Upton Arm.

         Tinges of autumn showed upon the wooded banks with shades of golden brown amongst the still predominantly green canopy. The Upton Arm at Wimbleball is sheltered by steep wooded banks and always seems to have a unique other world atmosphere.

         Jeff manoeuvred the boat into position in an area that had proved productive over recent days. I eagerly extended my Snowbee intermediate line and began to retrieve the team of flies. A solid jolt was transmitted down the line to be followed by an acrobatic trout!

The resulting 2lb plus rainbow was a great start to the day and ensured I had at least ensured my ongoing 100% catch rate during the modern Wimbleball era.

         The successful fly was the ever reliable gold headed blue flash damsel on the point. I constantly reiterate that it is important to tie on a fly that gives confidence. I probably catch more than 50% of my still-water trout on this pattern and that is undoubtedly due to my confidence in its use. I am not generally one to swap and change flies repeatedly preferring to try different depths and speeds of retrieve before swapping patterns.

         We could see fish moving on a regular basis further along the bank and moved towards these fish. Once again my fly was seized, there was a flurry of spray and an angry rainbow erupted from the water.

     Over the first hour or so the pattern continued and Jeff also started to hook up with some hard fighting rainbows. All full tailed fish in splendid condition. It soon became obvious that the fish were tightly shoaled as we glimpsed numerous fish in the dark clear water as they followed our flies.

         Sport was to be consistent throughout the day with some epic battles with Wimbleball’s finest the best of the trout nudging 4lb and averaging close to 3lb.

         It was the weather though that will linger in the memory along with persistently bent rods and purring reels. The dark skies brought some brutal showers on the tail end of storm Babet.

 

         It seems that we are increasingly weathering the storms to go fishing. Fortunately, modern waterproofs are up to the job ensuring that fishing is enjoyable in even the most hostile of conditions. There can be few climate change deniers amongst the angling fraternity.

         Sport proved consistent as the day drifted past all too quickly. The high banks of the Upton Valley provided welcome shelter from the wind and we were joined by Nigel and Andy who fished a hundred yards or so behind us. They too enjoyed consistent action and also noticed that most of the fish were patrolling one side of the bay hugging the shoreline.

         A red kite soared high above the valley as the rain eased. The calm surface of the lake reflected the dark trees and as the showers passed by wisps of mist lifted from the lake.

         By mid-afternoon we had caught 19 rainbows releasing all but a couple at the side of the boat. Barbless hooks and rubber meshed Snowbee nets ensuring minimal damage.

         Inevitably sport eased and we decided upon a change of scenery heading back to the yacht club bay for a final hour. We had a quick drift without success and then proceeded to drop the anchor. A small wild brownie brought the days total to twenty.

         Another brutal shower descended upon the lake and a rainbow appeared briefly as the late afternoon sun momentarily broke through the clouds. The trout proved elusive probably switched off the feed for we felt sure they would be present in the area that had been productive over recent days.

In truth I wasn’t too upset when Jeff suggested he had had enough, I had too!

         It had been a top day on the lake a water that has provided some spectacular sport under the management of Mark Underhill and his family since 2018. Wimbleball is not always an easy water with a vast acreage the trout can sometimes prove elusive but it is always well stocked with pristine conditioned rainbows. There is always the added chance of connecting with one of the lakes wild brownies that have grown large feeding upon the abundant fry.

         Winter sport can be enjoyed with plans under consideration to remain open for most of the winter.

10 Oct 2023

FISHING CALM WATERS WITH SOUTH WEST FISHING FOR LIFE

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            It was a peaceful Sunday morning as I negotiated the winding country lanes of the Quantock Hills on my way to Hawkridge Reservoir near the Village of Spaxton a few miles from Bridgewater.

            Countryside illuminated by the early morning sunshine seemed to ooze tranquillity and timelessness. This seemed particularly poignant as I listened to the news on Radio 4. The terror of conflict in Israel, death and destruction on the dawn of a new war that will undoubtedly bring much sadness and breed yet more hatred.

            I arrived at Hawkridge the mirror calm surface pimpled with rising trout. Herons stood fishing on the far bank.

            I was with Wistlandpound Fly Fishing Club on their annual meeting with South West Fishing For Life. https://www.southwestfishingforlife.org.uk

The organisation has been running for over fourteen years and provides free fly fishing sessions for people who have one thing in common – breast cancer.

            This friendly meeting always results in plenty of smiles as we share boats and try to tempt a few trout.

            Members of the two groups slowly assembled beside the lake all eagerly eyeing the lake and its surface still dimpled with rising trout.  On the far bank a couple of roe deer bounded into view disturbed by an angler approaching the far shoreline.

The draw was made at just after 10.00am and participants eagerly set off to various parts of the lake. My boat partner sadly failed to show leaving me soul occupancy of the boat a fate of hand that proved fruitful from a fishing perspective.

Loitering close to the dam end of the lake I drifted about for a while searching the water with a floating line and a team of flies. By now the fish had stopped rising as the unseasonably warm October sunshine illuminated the surroundings. After an hour with just one chance, I decided that the fish must be down in the water. As I wound in to change the lines over I felt a strong pull. A good sized rainbow appeared shaking its head to successfully rid itself of the hook.

I persisted with the change to a sinking line and allowed the boat to drift to rest against the buoys near the dam. A few fish were rising and I cast parallel to the buoys close to where a fish had showed. The line zipped tight and a spirited tussle followed before a pleasing rainbow was netted. An exciting hours sport followed as I hooked several trout some of which came off before I completed my five fish limit shortly after 1.00pm. The fish were all tempted using a blue flash damsel and generally took within seconds of the fly hitting the water. The fish were tightly shoaled and I had been lucky as I feel sure I would have headed to the far end of the lake if my boat partner had showed.

            The morning session ended at 2.00pm and we all assembled back at the lodge for the presentation of prizes. I was slightly embarrassed to receive the top boat man’s award for my five fish haul that totalled 13lb. Peter Mullins took the SWFFL prize with a 2lb 12oz rainbow.

Sally Pizii had once again done a splendid job of organising the event.

I headed for home after a great morning’s sport and tuned into Radio 2’ and sounds of the seventies. The rest of the Wistlandpound Club headed back out onto the water. David Eldred completed his five fish bag to win the competition with 14lb.

The club result was : –

1st David Eldred. Five trout – 14lb

2nd – Wayne Thomas – Five trout 13lb

3rd – Colin Combe –  three trout

4th – Roy Pink – Two trout

26 Sep 2023

Notes from the river at the Seasons End

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I fished the river yesterday and it was too high and coloured. I return today and its dropped a bit with less colour

Warm September sunshine the  river dropping, It feels right If a little high. I select the fly and wade out.

The cast is good I feel I’m doing everything right, each cast the line unfurls and the fly drops in the right place. Swing it around in the current expectation as the fly passes familiar lies.

As I walk the riverside field’s I note the fungi,  hazelnuts and the subtle changes that tell of seasons end.


At the top of the beat I look up river to briefly glimpse the graceful roll of an otter. As I climb from the river having fished the pool through a kingfisher brings a flash of electric blue.

Its hard to believe that another season has come to an end. It seems only yesterday that I walked the banks as the wild daffodils bloomed.

SEASONS END

 

 

26 Sep 2023

Song of the Streams

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Inspired by tales of the past gleaned from old fishing books, the author sets out to fish those same waters, to cast the same flies on the same pools, to explore how fishing the streams of Exmoor might compare with fishing them over a century ago, whether those streams have changed and how they might be faring today. Exmoor rivers and streams appear pristine, barely changed since Claude Wade described them in his 1903 book Exmoor Streams, yet the numbers of trout he and other long-ago writers reported catching seem unbelievable today. Those streams must once have held an astonishing abundance of fish.

Modern problems affect even upland streams, yet many good folk are dedicated to their restoration and there is much we can do to help. River conservation work can be fascinating and rewarding as we develop a deeper understanding of river habitats through, for example, managing a balance of light and shade, monitoring aquatic invertebrates and cleaning riverbed spawning gravels then watching for their use when migratory salmon return home from the sea.

Those nail-booted, greenheart wielding fishermen of the past have gone but the streams still run on their wild ways, singing their endless songs to the moor. This book is for all who share concern for the wellbeing and conservation of our rivers and streams as well as those entranced by the rise of a trout to a well placed fly.

Vellacott’s Pool – East Lyn – Image Roger Baker

11 Sep 2023

CASTING A LINE IN ENGLANDS FINEST

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The River Test in Hampshire is undoubtedly the worlds most revered Chalk Stream its gin clear waters flowing through country estates whose names are steeped in the history of fly fishing. Its waters fished by the likes of F M Halford who penned the classic tomes Floating Flies and How to Dress Them in 1886 followed by Dry Fly Fishing in Theory and Practice in 1889. Halfords Dry Fly Tactics were controversially questioned when G E M Skues published his books Minor Tactics of the Chalk Stream and The Way of the Trout with the Fly.

A century later Fly Fishing rules on the River Test still reflect the tactics employed by Halford and Skues. In truth these codes of conduct ensure that a degree of sportsmanship and etiquette are practiced on a River that is trout fishing equivalent to Crickets Lords or Tennis’s Wimbledon.

So, what is it like to fish the River Test? I was privileged to be invited for a day’s fishing on a beat a few miles below Stockbridge in the heart of the Test Valley.

We arrived at the River for a 9.00am start assembling our tackle beside the fishing hut. Fishing beats on the Test invariably have well equipped fishing huts where anglers can share tales of fishing forays, discuss tactics and put this ever changing world to rights.

It is early September and I noticed the onset of early autumn colours as I drove the country roads shrouded in trees. It is the end of a record breaking September week of high temperatures with over 30 degrees recorded for an unprecedented seven consecutive days.

It is exceptionally warm and humid with thunder forecast later in the day.

            Talk is that the fishing is going to be hard with the trout uninterested in feeding during the heat. We set off to search the water peering into the gin clear flow, lush water weeds swaying in the current. Its not difficult to spot our quarry if you’re  tuned into the task.

      I cast a small bead headed hares ear nymph up into the first pool I come too. After a couple of casts, I see a fish rise and change over to a grey Wulf dry fly. First cast the fly disappears in a delightful ring of water. I lift the rod and feel the pulsing of a hard fighting  River Test brown trout. I am using a 7ft Snowbee 3/4wt Classic, with a 2/5 WT Thistledown Line, the light rod absorbs the lunges of the trout protecting the gossamer 3.7 lb tippet I am using. At a couple of pounds, it’s a delightful start to a glorious day.

            The banks of the Rivers are carefully managed to provide a perfect experience for the angler. A strip of mowed grass provides a delectable fishers path, the rivers edge is  buffered with a strip of grass reed and wild flowers. This provides a haven for bees, pollinators and brilliant blue and green damsel flies. In parts the river dissects thick lush growth of reeds trees and bush that are a haven for birds and other wildlife.

            When the light is right peering into the gin clear waters is like looking into an aquarium, fry are abundant flitting around in the calmer eddies. The focus for the fly angler is of course the trout a mixture on this beat of wild browns and stocked brown and rainbows fish averaging 2lb with good numbers of fish between three and four pounds.

            The river here meanders through a maze of carriers criss-crossed by wooden bridges. It is a delight to stroll the banks spotting the trout that haunt the mesmerising waters. The clarity often disguises the true depth of the water and I need a long leader to ensure my tiny weighted nymphs can reach the trout suspended in ever flowing waters.

            After a couple of hours exploring the river we meet up in the fishing hut for a welcome coffee. There is no rush in this haven of tranquil riverside retreat.

The view from the fishing hut

    I catch more than my share of fine brown trout returning several to the river after spirited battles. In the afternoon the sun illuminates the river enriching the colours and exposing the shadows of trout resting between swaying fronds of ranuculus. I cast a nymph above a group of good sized brown trout, The biggest of the trout moves and I glimpse the white of its mouth. I lift the rod and the fish lifts in the clear water shaking its head. The light rod hoops over, the reel screams as the trout dashes into weed beds. I put on as much pressure as I dare with the ultra-light tackle, the trout leaps from the  water droplets of spray glisten in the hot afternoon sun. The trout’s image is imprinted forever in my mind’s eye a bar of gold and fiery copper leaping from the Tests revered waters. Eventually the big brown trout is almost beaten as I ready the net, it’s mine I think, but as I coax it to the net it gives a last shake of its head and the light tippet parts. The magnificent trout of perhaps five pounds sinks slowly back into its home and I watch it recover before swimming back to its station in the middle of the river.

            I sit back and contemplate my loss for a few minutes. The river flows majestically on its never ending journey. I tie on a new nymph and catch a couple more consolation fish the best a shade over 3lb.

            Its mid-afternoon and I have a long drive home. I savour a precious few moments sat absorbing the scene. It’s truly a riverside angling heaven, crystal clear waters, hard fighting trout and total peace. Once in a while it’s good to visit these legendary waters casting in the shadows of those who have created a tranquil stage in which to immerse and gather those piscatorial dreams.

            Before driving home, I take a short walk with my camera to try and capture the essence of the river. Its good to visit perfection from time to time but is it any more rewarding than those clear waters that tumble from the moors back home in Devon?

As a child I dangled a worm in the tiny river Umber in Combe Martin a lifetime away from casts on the revered Test. Those butter bellied miniature brown trout were every bit as beautiful as those of the Test so sad that their numbers have been allowed to dwindle.

            Rivers are the arteries of the land and it is so vital that we care for them by fighting pollution and over abstraction on every stream and river from the revered Test to babbling brook.

I stayed at an Air B & B near Andover the hosts son runs https://hookafly.com 

26 Aug 2023

A FRANTIC FIFTEEN MINUTES WHETS THE APPETITE

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               July and August are often quiet months for Stillwater trout fishing with last season an absolute disaster with the prolonged drought and hot weather putting fish off the feed or sending them into the cooler depths of the lake. This year has been different and after a wet and cooler July and August I had heard that Wimbleball was fishing well. A trip was undoubtedly needed but with jobs to do at home an all day trip was not an option.

            A half day ticket at Wimbleball starts at 4.00pm and gives over four hours fishing during August at what should be the best time of day.

            The weather forecast gave light North West Winds with occasional showers some of them potentially thundery. It was raining when I left home at around 2.30pm and I hoped the rain would ease by the time I arrived.

            It was a pleasant drive over Exmoor and I noted the tinges of Autumn starting to show on the trees. I drove through occasional heavy showers and spells of sunshine that illuminated the moorland landscape.

            It was raining steadily when I pulled into the car park where another angler was parked up waiting for the rain to ease before heading out to the lake. I set up under the shelter of the car boot opting for a floating line and longish leader with a tip fly and two droppers. I tied a damsel on the point and daiwl Bach’s on the droppers.

            It was good to walk out onto the lake’s foreshore once again, I was a little surprised at how far the lake had dropped since my last visit. I knew it was now at around 75% but that’s quite a bit of exposed shoreline. The foreshore is coated in lush green growth of wetland plants and flowers that exuded a pleasant almost minty aroma as I walked eagerly to the water’s edge.

            I waded out and put a line out onto the water slowly retrieving as I took in the panorama of lake, sky and land. Dark foreboding clouds, glimpses of blue, lush green fields and trees bedecked in their dark summer foliage. Ducks foraged in the shallows their heads emersed and curly rears exposed in typical duck fashion. A heron’s call echoed across the lake, swallows and martins swooped low over the water. The margins were alive with tiny fry that would surely provide a feast for predatory trout over the coming months.

            I settled into the searching mode of cast and retrieve occasionally trying different flies and trying different areas of the bay. I saw a couple of fish rise shortly after starting but nothing seemed interested in my offerings and after three hours I was starting to have a few doubts. I have not blanked at Wimbleball since the lakes fishing has been under the management of Mark Underhill in 2018!

            After trying different areas, I headed back to where I had started and again commenced the searching rhythm. A fellow angler fishing along the bank to my right seemed to have the body language indicating a lack of success. I heard him comment to his friend; “time to cut our losses and head for home”.

            It was now just after 7.00pm and there was just an hour and a half permitted fishing time remaining. I had reverted to the damsel on the point, a diawl bach on the middle dropper with a sunburst blob on the top dropper.

            As the luckless angler disappeared from view the line suddenly zipped delightfully tight. A trout erupted from the water and after a strong encounter a slim full tailed rainbow graced the net. The silvery flanks, full tail and sleek appearance reminded me of a fresh run grilse.

            Next cast the line again zipped tight a trout leaping from the water. A beautiful wild brown trout of close to a pound that was quickly returned after capturing an image. To my delight the next two casts produced another brace of wild browns with vivid spotted flanks of olive green, bronze and buttery cream.

 

            I fished on expectantly and missed one more fish as the light began to fade. Judging by the size of the swirl behind the lure it was a good sized fish. Shortly after sunset I eventually made my tenth last cast and walked back to the car.

            In just over four hours hard fishing I had tempted four trout within a frantic fifteen minute spell. Had a shoal moved in? Had they just switched on for that short feeding spell? Whatever had happened it had whetted my appetite and I look forward to return trips during the autumn months when the fishing promises to be very exciting. With ongoing stocking of full tailed rainbows throughout and those wild browns that will surely feast upon those marginal fry. I wander how big those browns go to? Only one way to find out!

16 Aug 2023

A FEW CASTS INTO A FADING DAY

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Wistlandpound Reservoir is just up the road from where I live and is an ideal spot to combine a summer evening  walk with a few casts here and there. It was ideal that Pauline could join me and capture a few images of the scene and hopefully a fish or two. Despite being on my doorstep I haven’t visited as often as I had planned even though I did tempt some stunning wild brown trout earlier in the season.

            Mid-August fishing can be a struggle so my expectations were not high so my target for the evening would be to tempt a golden flanked rudd or two. These beautiful fish are considered a nuisance by some but I see them as a pleasing diversion from the trout. I have glimpsed rudd of over a pound and would love to catch one of these larger specimens.

            I had grabbed an old split cane Scottie Fly Rod that was already set up with a PTN on the point and black spider on a dropper. There is perhaps something organic and tactile about split cane and this rod could undoubtedly tell a tale or two and has a slightly poignant history.

            I bought the rod from a friend at work who had picked it up at a car boot sale at Torrington. He wasn’t really an angler but had started to take a bit of an interest and we planned to take rods to the River Torridge and cast a line for trout. He was going to retire at some point in the near future and would have time to indulge in a new hobby expanding upon his love for family time, playing golf and tinkering with his sports car.

            At the Roadford Fly Fair we met up with a friend and got chatting about life and fishing. How’s it going we asked to be told rather awkwardly that this would be his last Fly-fair as he had been diagnosed with terminal cancer. A bit of a conversation stifler but we stumbled on and somehow got talking about fishing rods. It turned out he had sold his old Scottie Fly Rod at a car boot sale at Torrington.

            Later that year I attended my work colleague’s funeral. He had retired after  being diagnosed with cancer. We never did get to cast a line on the Torridge so on the odd occasion when I take out the old Scottie I cannot help but have a cast for my lost friends who had shared ownership of the old Scottie.

            The sun was slowly sinking as we walked to the reservoir and there was barely a breath of wind. Reflections of trees, evening light, the occasional trout rise dimpling the surface and vapour trails decorating the cloud free evening sky.

            We stopped at the first area of open bank and I extended a line upon the calm water. It took a while to adjust to the need to cast slower with the cane rod and I ended up spending a few moments untangling my fine leader. As is often the case other areas of the lake called and we ambled on chatting and absorbing the embers of the fading summer day.

            We ended up on the far shoreline where I had caught a good brown trout earlier in the season. I waded out and suggested that Pauline capture a few images of me fishing out the fading day.

            Tantalisingly beyond casting range the surface was broken as a large shoal of fish feasted upon something, a hatch of fly perhaps? Large numbers of martins swooped above the water a sure indication that flies were indeed hatching. I flicked a fly  yards from bushes that stretched out into the lake, paused and began a slow retrieve, the line tightened. A rudd was guided to my hand and lifted from the water its flanks glowing a burnished bronze and silver in the fading light.

            After a quick picture the fish was slipped back. I cast again to be rewarded with a slightly bigger rudd.

A pleasing end to the day etching out another memory I remembered those immortal lines that feature in the books written by the late countryside writer BB.

The Wonder of the world, the beauty and the power, the shapes of things, their colours, lights, and shades; these I saw. Look ye also while life lasts.

           

13 Aug 2023

Captured memories to treasure

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         A mild August Sunday morning with a hint of moisture in the air, a light South West breeze bringing clouds from the Atlantic. The river was looking healthy, fairly high yet clear as morning sunlight occasionally broke through the lush trees that overhung the river.

            It was only a short session but good to be wading in the cool water as I searched the river working my way slowly upstream. I was fishing a large bushy dry fly tied by Nigel Nunn

https://www.nigelnunnflies.com beneath which was tied a small copper head nymph. I tempted a couple of small wild browns on the nymph and had a few splashy rises to the dry that I failed to hook.

            A good sized trout rose to the dry fly and I failed to connect so marked the spot and decided to have a try as I came back down river. I fished up covering a few likely spots with just the dry but failed to rise anymore fish.

            I decided to try once more for the good fish I had risen earlier without connecting. I walked back and climbed into the river at the bottom of the pool. I worked slowly up flicking the dry fly over promising spots until I reached the place where I had raised the trout earlier. The fly floated on the river and brought a splashy rise that I again failed to connect with.

 

            I decided upon a few minutes searching deeper with just a small jig headed nymph pattern, I leant back against a tree as I changed flies.

            I wrote earlier this summer about how we go fishing to make memories and the next few moments are one of those captured memories to treasure.

            As I prepared to flick the nymph into the river there was a flash of vivid electric blue as a kingfisher flew past just a rod length away. Whilst only fleeting the sight will linger in the minds eye for years to come. Downriver a movement caught my eye and I stood stock still as a heron and watched transfixed as three otters moved upriver along the far bank. I watched as they negotiated the tree roots, twisting, amazingly agile in the swirling water, scurrying in and out as they moved oblivious to my presence.

            After they had passed I wandered if it was worth casting a line? I flicked the small nymph and watched the tip of the fly line as the nymph sank into the deep water. The line twitched, I lifted the rod and a trout pulsed at the lines end. Eight inches or so of crimson spotted perfection. I admired my prize briefly before slipping the barbless hook and releasing into the cool clear water.

            It was time to go home with more memories made at the water’s edge.

2 Aug 2023

RIVERS LOOKING HEALTHY AFTER WET JULY

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The wettest July for many years is starting to pay dividends with several salmon seen and caught in our local rivers. Simon Hillcox tempted this beautiful salmon( Below) from the middle Taw. Several sea trout have also been caught from both the Taw and Torridge.

( Below)  Anthony Wilmington netted this 15lbs cock salmon at Little Warham last Sunday, a coloured fish which had been in river for a while. A very strong fish which took a while to land in high water. Safely returned after being pictured.

In other news… Numerous good sized brown and sea trout have been enjoyed by our anglers this last week.

Chay Boggis fished a tributary of the River Taw and caught this stunning wild brown trout using a 3wt set up with a nymph. There are some stunning wild brown trout throughout North Devon with some surprisingly large fish hidden away to be discovered by the skillful angler.