Over the years I have often spoken with Lewis Hendrie at various fishing shows and events across the West Country and it is always apparent that we share a deep passion for angling. So when Lewis suggested a fishing trip on a lake or river it was too good an opportunity to miss and a date was set. As is often the case natures script doesn’t always cater to our own desired narrative and our plans for the day would have to fit the weather to some extent.
The plan was to potentially split the day into two sessions seeking an end of season grayling on the River Exe or fishing on a Private Lake. On the eve of the fishing day the weather men’s prediction of gale force winds and driving rain failed to dent our enthusiasm and we arranged to meet at the White Horse in Exford with our options open.
A warm seat in the pub beside the fire was a good starting point for the day and we chatted fishing in depth over a hot coffee. Lewis has been Fly Fishing in the West Country and beyond for many years and is a respected fishing guide and tackle consultant.
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The Fly Fishing world is changing at a rapid pace at present with new techniques being adopted by the fly fishing fraternity. I am presently reading Theo Pikes informative and thought provoking book – River Trout Streamer Fishing. We discussed the potential of these methods and Lewis fully endorsed how effective streamer fishing can be on UK rivers.
I told Lewis how my own fishing has been stifled to some extent by long standing traditions and how frustrating this can be. I recalled a discussion last year with the late author of the book ‘Gently Down the Stream’. Nicholas’s opening greeting to me was, ‘Are you an upstream or a downstream man’? To which I replied after a moments pause; “ I cast to where the trout lie”. A reply that Lewis related to as we went on to discuss the rapid development of fly fishing and how it can be applied to our local rivers over the coming season.
Fully charged with enthusiasm after an hour of fishing dialogue that evaporated all too quickly, we headed for the intriguing Private Lake that nestles within a moorland fold that is part of a Country Estate. It is always exciting to head to a new venue and Lewis fired up the anticipation as he described the very special brown trout and spartic trout that swim within its waters.
We arrived at the entrance gates and Lewis asked how good my car was on soft wet ground? My mind raced back to a near stranding close to a local river and I suggested caution. No problem replied Lewis let’s take mine it should be Ok; more of that later the eagerness to get fishing was strong and overruled the caution of common sense as we were to find later in the day.
And so we bumped our way down the track to arrive close to water’s edge. The lake undoubtedly had a unique character and despite the howling wind and driving drizzle it held a certain beguiling beauty. The onset of Spring seemed far away on this wet wild, windy and inhospitable day.
We tackled up eagerly with Lewis urging me to commence fishing from the first platform that offered some shelter from the conditions. I had elected to start off with a floating line and a long leader with gold-head black-lure on the point. No finesse required using these tactics and I opted for 10.5lb fluorocarbon leader.
I deduced that the water wasn’t deep as I peered into the peat stained lake and put a line out across the wind ruffled surface. I just love the anticipation of casting into unfamiliar waters hoping to unlock the mysteries of the lake.
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I paused and allowed the fly to sink before commencing my standard erratic retrieve. Third cast and wallop a good fish hit the lure and a flash of orange flank was momentarily glimpsed before the hook hold gave. It looked and felt like a good fish, they so often do when they come adrift.
Confidence was fully charged now and a couple of casts later I connected again and this time my prize came begrudgingly to the waiting net. Lewis bounded over sharing the joy of success and keen to capture the image of this beautiful brown trout.
It wasn’t long before Lewis was connected to his own prize and I dropped my own rod to rush over and capture his triumph.
From this point in the day we could both just settle into the routine of fishing in the moment far from the troubled wider world. Birdsong resonated despite the gale force wind and driving rain. Each cast brought expectation and hope; it was good to be alive.
Another brown trout seized my lure and we admired its silver hued flanks so different than the first two fish we had tempted. The diversity of the brown trout gene pool is amazing and my mind drifted back to a fascinating talk delivered by Shaun Leonard of the Wild Trout Trust a few weeks ago. Whilst these fish were not true wild fish their beauty was undeniable and their behaviour by now undoubtedly as if wild.
We both moved around the lake searching the water and I lost another good sized fish after a brief connection but it seemed as if the lakes inhabitants had switched off. Lewis and I are both persistent souls so whilst a retreat for a pub lunch at the White Hart seemed sensible another cast or ten was required.
It was close to 3.00pm before we actually headed for lunch but our earlier haste to reach the water brought a problem for the wet and slippery slope was not negotiable and so we had to walk to my car a few hundred yards away. The walk was eased by an exceedingly strong tail wind.
Dinner and a hot coffee were indeed a welcome interlude as Lewis darted to and fro gathering delivery’s for the forthcoming West Country Trout Festival at the Arundell.
Late afternoon and a couple of hours daylight remaining it was back to the lake after seeking help from the adjacent stables. Fortunately we came upon a friendly soul who cheerily agreed to bring over a tractor when her duties at the stable were completed.
Lewis and I arrived at the lake expectant with renewed vigour. I swapped my floating line for an intermediate and once again began to search the water. I savoured the stark landscape and tried to picture the lake in a few weeks’ time as the delightful symphonies of Spring and Summer would once again fill the air. Skylarks, cuckoos, swallows and chiff-chaff would surely sing and vivid blue damsel flies will flutter around the margins as speckled trout slurp flies from placid waters.
The trout proved elusive, the rescue of the van went without issue and the light began to fade from the day despite swapping my polaroid’s to my standard lens. The bare trees danced in the wind, rain lashed across the water and we both walked towards each other acknowledging that it was perhaps time to go after just a few more last casts.
Wet waders and waterproofs were slung into vehicles and we both shared a cheery farewell for despite the weather we had enjoyed a great day at the water’s edge and vowed to do it all again before too long.