It’s no secret that our piscatorial triumphs sound so much better in the telling if the heroic angler out-wits a wily foe. So we embellish our trout with fishy superpowers like intelligence and emotional guile. Even when we lose them, we’re never beaten by a run-of-the-mill fish: It was ‘big, arrogant and knew exactly what it was doing!’
I suspect it’s mostly male vanity that needs to prove its mettle in combat with a 12” fish, although with time most of us learn there isn’t a trout physically mighty enough for victory to transform us into warrior princes or princesses. So we also need clever fish to make us look good. Size isn’t everything. Is it?
And yet. Type “Think Like a Trout” into your search engine and admire the flood of results. They all agree: To catch a trout, we must first know its thoughts and so anticipate its deeds. In the telling of this eternal and epic struggle, we humans are always one step behind the fish. Trout, we are told, can outwit us.
This warning is intended to open our wallets because, back in the human world, Trout-Thinking sells. You can buy the books, subscribe to the podcasts and clickn’gift your data. It’s a thriving market that gets bigger every year. Enthusiasts dream of fluency, others monetise it and a proud few say they learnt it from a parent.
This fish-think market is distinctly weird because, at some elemental level, all these anxious, charge-card wielding anglers are worried about being out-thought by a fish. Which, I hope you agree, is a very low bar.
So what might these devious fish be capable of? The irrepressible jazz maestro and fisherman George Melly set that bar high by extending a thinking trout’s repertoire into personal harassment. He attributed “a malicious sense of humour” to a large trout that he’d lost several times over a season, effectively granting it brains, cultural sophistication and serial bitchery. It’s fair to say that a fish armed with a malicious sense of humour would have met its match in George, who had a razor-sharp wit of his own. There’s also a very old adage that advises us never to let the facts get in the way of a good story. Perhaps some seriously-minded trout-thinkers have felt persecuted by a fish, but I’m sure George wasn’t one of them.
Writer John Gierach has also made an astute observation: “The things fishermen know about trout aren’t facts but articles of faith”. I think he’s onto something.
Which, I suggest, is why Trout-Thinking is only ever found in people. Never trout.
There are many good reasons why this is a skill too far for fish. Top of the list is that trout lack the sophisticated Cerebral Cortex we use for sentient thought. So although they’re not brain-dead, they’re brain-lite. They can learn from experience (hook / bad), but no trout has ever produced anything as clever as a conscious idea, let alone one intended to outwit us.
It gets worse. Fish brains are about 7% the mass of similarly sized birds (which do have a cerebral cortex). Chicken-Thinking is, by comparison with trout, classy and sophisticated. This is all rather awkward for the trout-thinkers: If they’re struggling with a fish, they’re going to be humiliated by a chicken.
Thanks to neuroscience we know trout are hard-wired to feed reflexively, just as they do most things reflexively. So we are told they are primarily triggered to take a fly by its shape, size and position/movement in the water. They don’t think about it, they just get on with it.
Then there is the fierce competition from other fish. Survival dictates that trout eat first and ask questions later (for the trout-thinkers, that’s a metaphor). Perhaps they have a bit more reaction time in still-waters than rivers, but in both settings this urge to get there first works in our favour. We’ve all seen a fish surge a couple of meters to snatch a fly.
So if the trout are feeding freely and we’re not catching any, it’s not because they’re being capricious. Clearly, something else is going on.
This something is most likely us, the human with a rod in its hand. That and Murphy’s Law (if a thing can go wrong, it will).
Happily, we have our own super-power: We can Think Like A Human. So, we can read the river and the weather. We can choose a fly to resemble those on the water – or not, or even something stand-out different. We can consider colour, smell and sound. Or sunlight, shade, water temperature and more, all of which may set off different hard-wired feeding patterns. As can a fish’s lateral line.
Next comes by far the most important part: We must apply all our skill, knowledge and experience to put the fly in the right place on or in the water. Once there the way it moves can also seduce or repel fish. It’s not easy, perfection is unattainable and there will always be fish we can’t catch. And when we fail it’s a very lame excuse to blame a scheming trout.
We humans have opposing thumbs for casting and a huge brain-powered edge over trout. Dumbing down and projecting Trout-Think onto a fish won’t impress it, although it’s pretty good at hooking humans.
So perhaps we could stop pretending that trout see themselves as fey schemers intent on frustrating our noble designs. Heck, they don’t even know they’re fish.
The bottom line is that our ancestors emerged onto land about 400 million years ago and fish have a lot of catching up to do. And so do some people.
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Ilfracombe harbour once again ready to depart for a day aboard John Barbeary’s boat ‘Blue Fin’ with members of South Molton and District Angling Club. It doesn’t really feel like a July morning with a cool North East breeze blowing into the harbour. The predominantly grey sky seemingly typical of the summer of 2024 so far.
The sea is not too rough however and the forecast gives the wind easing throughout the day and with good fishing enjoyed on another Ilfracombe Boat last week I am optimistic for the day ahead. We all climb from the harbour steps and greet John and his deckhand Ted. Club members today include Edward Rands, Dave Hathaway, Nick Stringer, Chris Allin, Steve Edmonds and myself.
South Molton Angling Club has been established for over fifty years and has several miles of trout fishing on local rivers. Its membership of around fifty are mostly game fishers with a segment of occasional sea anglers. The club has a healthy social side with trips most months of the year with trophies awarded to recognized members achievements. All in all a friendly easy going club without a serious competitive streak.
The prospect of a slightly turbulent sea raised a few concerns about the sea anglers curse of mal-de-mer that were to prove found less. All concerned members had taken Stugeron tablets as a precaution. Discussion around previous unpleasant trips were recounted with lessons such as abstaining from alcohol the previous night recalled from observations of past excursions.
The plan for the day was to stop off on route to catch bait and then drift a few reefs for bass or pollock before dropping anchor in the hope of tope.
The feathers went down a short distance from port and strings of writhing mackerel were swung on board. Ted the friendly crewman for the day worked hard assisting with unhooking. It was interesting to listen to Ted’s wisdom as he commented upon the effectiveness of different coloured mackerel feathers. A few days previous he had noted how white feathers had proved effective during one tide with blue and silver more effective on another. The mackerel preferences are undoubtedly influenced by many factors including what they are feeding on naturally perhaps combined with light levels, water clarity and tidal state.
It seemed that all our strings of lures were working as be drifted off Ilfracombe’s rocky foreshore. Strings of mackerel were swung on board. John commented that it was like the old days when mackerel were always abundant throughout the summer months. Mackerel numbers seem to vary each year and after several years of poor numbers the last two seasons have been encouraging. It has also been noticeable that mackerel have been present throughout the winter months along with garfish.
Having caught plenty of mackerel we steamed on down channel passing the cragged slate promontory of Morte Point and the treacherous Morte Stone. The promontory of Morte Point pushes out into the Bristol Channel the rock formation running down its spine resembling that of a huge dragon immortalised in grey stone. The resulting tidal race over the Morte reef is a renowned holding place for bass with huge shoals sometimes present harassing mackerel and whitebait as gannets plunge into the resulting melee.
We pushed on down across Woolacombe Bay and its sands of gold to Baggy Point its steep cliffs the haunts of climbers and seabirds. We drifted over a couple of reefs catching a handful of pollock and a few more mackerel. It was perhaps surprising that we did not catch more fish such as bass as the huge number of birds present was a sure indication of bait fish and predators. Fish were undoubtedly present with plenty showing on the boats sounder.
A 4lb pollock for Nick Stringer
This whole job of being a skipper can be very frustrating. Finding the fish is just one part of an incredibly complex puzzle. The experienced skipper will have developed a unique gift of being able to inspire anglers with tales of past successes and explaining the lack of success with a recipe book full of valid excuses. As the tide eased John put us on a mark slightly West of Baggy and dropped the anchor.
The rod tips soon rattled to the pull of dogfish. Ed Rands hooked several bull huss and a few small conger put a bend in members rods.
Ed Rands with a bull huss from a rough ground mark
As the tide eased further towards high water John took us out to deep water , tope were our intended quarry. Once again we settled at a new mark located from Johns extensive log book of carefully jotted coordinates.
Steve Edmonds hooked what was undoubtedly a good tope that bit through his heavy mono hook link after a few minutes.
Steve Edmonds battles a fish that later bit through his trace.
A few moments later it was my turn and a good fish took off taking line from the reel. The battle ebbed and flowed with the fish hanging deep beneath the boat after its initial powerful runs. I exerted pressure and brought the tope to the boat where it was skill-fully netted by John.
The fish was carefully weighed pulling the scales to a respectful 35lb. Five minutes or so later I hooked into another tope that was a few pounds lighter.
Throughout the time at this mark a steady stream of dogfish came to the boat along with a few small huss and strap conger.
As the tidal speed increased I hooked into another fish that powered away using the tide to its advantage. This was undoubtedly a good fish and started to move against the tide a sure indication that it was an above average specimen. Eventually pressure brought the fish within view a sleek tope that hung heavy in the tide causing several anxious moments as it rolled in the leader. Fortunately I had taken the precaution of using a heavy rubbing leader of 150lb b.s mono to protect the braid mainline.
Braid is beneficial in allowing the use of lighter leads and has no stretch ensuring excellent contact with the business end. It is also extremely strong in relation to its thin diameter. Its disadvantage is its poor abrasion resistance and fineness when sorting tangled lines.
The fish was eventually scooped into the net and brought on board where it thrashed wildly before being secured carefully to remove the hook. This fish proved to be the heaviest of the day scaling 41lb. The fish swam away strongly disappearing into the clear waters from whence it had come.
A 41lb tope
With the tide now at full strength mid tide we headed back inshore to drift a few more reefs. This proved unproductive and with the tide easing John headed back up channel and anchored at another deep water mark where tope were again the intended species. A couple of small conger, small huss and plenty of dogfish rattled the rod tips. Dave Hathaway hooked a very powerful fish that put a good bend in the rod ripping several yards of line from his reel. Sadly the fish bit through the heavy mono trace of 150lb b.s after a short battle leaving Dave to ponder on what could have been.
Ed Rands with a string of mackerel
By now it was time to head back and John agreed to stop off for a few fresh mackerel close to Ilfracombe. Fortunately the mackerel were still there and we all caught enough for a delicious evening snack when we got home. Is there a better fish fresh from the sea?
Reflecting upon the day I was obviously pleased to have boated three good tope and cannot help but ponder upon my luck. It is said that luck can be cultivated and there is some truth in this. I was fortunate to secure a prime position at the stern of the boat enabling a bit more freedom as to the weight selection. The anglers at the stern can use lighter weights and trot the bait out ensuring that the fish attracted by the baits scent intercept these baits first. I chose to use larger mackerel flappers that stopped the pesky dogfish devouring the bait before the tope found it. I also opted to use a heavy duty wire trace to ensure I did not get bitten off. There is some debate regarding the pro’s and cons of wire versus heavy mono. An option is perhaps to use circle hooks that tend to hook fish in the scissors of the jaw. Used in conjunction with heavy fluorocarbon they might be an option but for me its heavy duty wire until I am convinced otherwise.
Choice of tackle when boat fishing is very much a matter of personal preference. There is balance to found between using tackle strong enough to subdue most fish hooked in a reasonable time without detracting from the joy of bringing the fish to the boat.
Anglers Eldorado’s Carp and Catfish Lake 2 is renowned for its catfish that have been stocked to over 90lb. It was these powerful and challenging fish that we were targeting on what has become an annual pilgrimage for our group.
Angling is a wonderful pastime for creating long lasting friendships with bonds formed that can often last a lifetime. I have fished with my good friend Bruce Elston on numerous occasions during recent seasons both of us sharing a lifelong obsession with angling.
Bruce invited me to join the catfish hunters at Anglers Paradise a couple of years ago. Our group consists of Mitch Andrews, his son Ben Andrews, John Hughes, Tony Ball, Bruce Elston, Alan Palmer, Richard Bull and myself.
Fishing at the venue runs for twenty four hours from midday. We had booked the lake for two days, forty eight hours to target the big catfish that lurk in the murky waters.
We met up at Bruce’s house for a brunch of bacon, fried egg and fresh bread washed down with tea and coffee. The banter flowed as we discussed tactics and caught up. Strange how we all reconnected after a twelve month gap almost as if we were reconvening after just a week or so.
Bruce had used his extensive knowledge of the venue to draw up a map showing all the productive swims and where the hotspots were. We all drew numbers out of the proverbial hat (oven glove) to decide who would fish where ensuring that those who wished to fish together could. This was all very much a case of everyone getting the best chance and making sure the whole lake was covered as this is a team effort with no intended competitive element.
I ended up fishing the East side of the lake offering a wide choice of known holding spots to cast into.
The first task upon arriving is to lug the mountain of gear required for a forty eight hour session. This is no easy task with barrows loaded to the maximum with two trips required for most.
On arrival in the swim my first task was to set up a rod to explore the swim. Casting a lead and marker float around the swim it is possible to check the depth and assess if the bottom is clear or silty etc.
Where to put the bait is based upon prior knowledge, advice, observation and that all important gut feeling. Two rods are allowed on the lake and I decided to bait up two spots spodding out generous quantities of halibut pellet in various sizes along with a few boilies of the type to be fished as bait. In this case Sticky Baits Krill and Bloodworm.
To some extent of course hotspots on these lakes are created by anglers. Spots that look good to anglers are baited up and become feeding spots for the fish. The anglers then catch fish from the spots that become popular with more anglers who add more bait ensuring the ongoing productivity of the hotspot.
We all followed the same basic plan targeting catfish with stepped up carp rigs using boilies and bolt rigs.
This whole branch of fishing is very much a case of setting traps and grabbing the rod when the fish self-hooks itself.
I don’t believe that catfish are particularly rig shy like carp which is a good job as with fish present close to 100lb subtle rigs are not practical.
There is a certain appeal to a long session a chance to relax and settle into the natural cycle of the natural world.
There is a continual sense of expectation and anticipation. At any moment the alarm could sound its harsh blip alerting the anglers as an unseen fish of unknown size tears off with the bait.
Conditions seemed close to perfect. A light breeze drifting high white clouds across the deep blue summer sky. Half a dozen buzzards soared high on thermals their mewing cry’s drifting across the lake. A family of Canada geese paraded around the lake and a mallard brood swam across the water. I thought how vulnerable they looked and wondered if the catfish ever enjoyed a duckling snack.
Late afternoon there came a cry of fish on. Ben had hooked the first cat of the session a pleasing start, 21lb.
Early evening it was time to stop for a catch up. We all wound in our rods and assembled together to enjoy fresh pizzas delivered bankside to us by Bruce Elston’s obliging family.
This was an opportunity to catch up and talk fishing and there was as always a great deal to discuss. I had probably last fished with Richard Bull from the Dam wall at Durleigh Reservoir near Bridgwater for pike. Back then we were both young men starting off on life’s hopefully long journey. Close to forty years later we had both retired from long careers, mine in the water industry and Richard’s with the Environment Agency.
A lot has changed in those forty years and we soon started to compare notes along with Alan Palmer. It was immediately apparent that we shared a deep concern regarding the dramatic decline we had seen in nature. We talked of the dramatic decline of salmon and noted the lack of swallows around the lake. The estimated insect decline of 70% over the past forty years, a lack of big pike across the Somerset levels and a collapse in the once prolific population of eels.
As anglers we are of course very aware of what is happening to the natural world. Pesticides, farming practices, climate change and an ever increasing human population all contributing to natures decline.
The conversation drifted onto the state of angling. We are perhaps creatures of our generation and have views created from our journeys. Angling perhaps reflects society.
We all reflected upon how we had started fishing for small fish serving a sort of apprenticeship before progressing to bigger specimens. It seems that many of todays young anglers arrive at the water’s edge with all the gear setting out to catch twenty pound carp straight away. Instant gratification no slow path to success. I want it all and I want it now!
We looked back fondly at our days as young specimen hunters. A time when we learned from books and pooling knowledge. No you-tube videos and ready-made rigs.
Richard reminisced about his fishing for catfish at Claydon Lake in Bedfordshire during the late eighties and early nineties. The catfish that resided in the lakes had been transferred from Woburn Abbey Lakes. Claydon Lake is situated within the grounds of a large country mansion. The large catfish were a target for budding specimen hunters of the day. Richards best catfish from the water was 35lb a fish that was at the time within the top ten catfish caught from UK waters.
We discussed Claydon Lake and other venues like Redmire Pool. Waters that have a unique status in angling history. There is perhaps a certain nostalgia amongst our generation a longing for the mystery and excitement of a bygone era.
Whilst we had discussed the undoubted decline in nature we also had to acknowledge the fact that many fish now grow far bigger. We were fishing in a lake that contains a large number of catfish far in excess of the wildest dreams of anglers back in the 1980’s. Catfish of over fifty pounds now fail to warrant a mention in the national angling press. Several waters in North Devon contain carp equivalent to the stocks that resided within Redmire’s hallowed waters.
The eel record has just been beaten, as has the roach record. Many of the British freshwater fish records have been eclipsed in recent years. The roach record is now over 4lb. The bream record stands at 22lb 11oz; I doubt many believed bream could grow to that size back in the 1980’s. The carp record is now 68lb 1oz, catfish record 143lb 14oz, perch 6lb 3oz, pike 47lb 5oz, tench 15lb 3oz, barbel 21lb 2oz, chub 9lb 5oz, crucian carp 4lb 12oz, dace 1lb 5oz, rudd 4lb 10oz and zander 21lb 5oz. All of the above records and several others have all been caught since 2000 proving perhaps that our perception of fishing’s golden era is all within our imagination.
The truth with our perception is perhaps that we have lost much of the mystery and magic? The fish are growing bigger because of an artificially created environment. Whilst truly wild fish like salmon, sea trout and eels are in an alarming spiral of decline other fish dwelling in lakes or rivers enriched by nutrients and anglers baits are growing larger.
In light of the above facts it is undoubtedly our perception of fishing that has changed. A generation is inclined to look back with rose tinted glasses, the measure of success in angling is to be measured in happiness and contentment not in the size of fish. I often state that anglers go through three main phases. At first wanting to catch fish, any fish. Then aspiring to catch bigger fish or more than other anglers. I suspect that at some point most anglers reach the stage where they are content to just go fishing. It is perhaps difficult to reach the latter stage without experiencing the first two. And as stated earlier a modern society tends to skip the first stage and go straight in to stage two.
A fact I often note is that when a bunch of anglers get together a schoolboy humour is soon rekindled as farts and bodily functions always abounds. A youthful cheer emerges which is undoubtedly one of the reasons angling is so good for mental health.
Anyway after a rather long ramble away from our trip I will reconvene on the banks of carp and Catfish 2.
The evening light descended and expectation climbed. At close to midnight my alarm screamed out and I fumbled my way to the rod. Lifting into a heavy fish for a moment or two before the hook hold gave way.
Disappointed I recast and tried to get some sleep. A few hours later at just after 3.00am I heard voices and commotion across the water. Assuming that Bruce or John had caught I reeled in my rods and made my way over to the far side of the lake.
A jubilant John was being congratulated on successfully banking a large catfish. I joined in with the jubilation witnessing the weighing of a personal best cat for John of 49lb. I secured a few images and watched the fish gently lowered back into the lake.
The rest of the night passed by without interruption except for the invasion of my swim by the geese family shortly after first light.
The dawn chorus was spectacular with a wide variety of birds contributing to the choir. The Merlin app on my phone recorded sedge warbler, carrion crow, chaffinch, wren, willow warbler, blue tit, chiff chaff, song thrush and nuthatch.
The second day drifted past and we settled into life on the lakeside. The sound of cars and farm machinery came from the nearby road reminding us of a world beyond this tranquil lake.
Knowing the size of fish present within the confines of this small lake ensured that hope of connection was never lost. I brewed regular coffee and ensured that a steady trickle of bait was going into the chosen spots within the swim.
I noticed the occasional large swirl in my swim, an indication that big fish were on the prowl. But the alarms remained silent.
As evening descended once again expectation grew surely more catfish would be caught? At around midnight my alarm bleeped frantically and I rushed from my bivvy to grab the rod. As I touched the rod handle the run stopped!
In the early hours I was answering natures call and noticed headlights further along the bank. Rich was elated to have landed a catfish of 39lb a new personal best and I believe his first catfish since the mid- nineties.
During the night light rain had fallen, resulting in droplets glistening as the new day dawned. The calm light of dawn descended upon the lake as the new day unfurled.
We all hoped for one last chance. Suddenly out of the blue came a call fish on! Ben was in action and after an exciting tussle brought a 24lb catfish to the waiting net.
Tony avoided a blank by tempting a couple of kittens float fishing worms in the margin.
Then as we started to consider packing away John on the far side of the lake was in action. I watched the drama as John piled on the pressure, trying to prevent what was undoubtedly a big fish finding sanctuary in a tangle of branches and lily’s near the Island.
When the fish was safely netted I wound in my rods and walked around to witness the weighing and get a few images of the fish in daylight. At 39lb it was another fine specimen for John.
Whilst the fishing had been slower than hoped for the company had been great. Catfish weighing 49lb, 39lb, 39lb, 24lb and 21lb is after all a pretty good result.
We said our farewells after lugging the ridiculous heap of gear up to the cars vowing to do it all again next year.
Upon reflection it had been a very enjoyable excursion catching up with friends. Some big fish had been caught and discussion had left plenty to contemplate. Izaak Walton author of The Complete Angler first published in 1653 described angling as the ‘Contemplative Mans Recreation’. Somethings never change.
The Reed Storm Jacket on a cold December day back in 2016
Being an all-round angler and fishing throughout the year coping with what the elements throw at me is an important part of my fishing preparation. An adage that is often thrown around is that there is no such thing as bad weather just the wrong clothing. Well there is perhaps some truth in that though generally I prefer a warm sunny day to a cold wet one!
I enjoy my fishing excursions throughout the year and keeping warm and dry undoubtedly makes the experience both more enjoyable and productive. You will not fish well if you are cold wet and miserable.
Playing a hard fighting trout during a heavy downpour
I have worn a vast range of weather proof garments over the past fifty years some good some not so good. Several years ago I was introduced to Reed Chillcheater clothing by my good friend and fellow angler Kevin Legge. Kev extolled the virtues of Reed Chillcheater products and in 2016 I invested in an Aquatherm Fleece Storm Jacket.
North Devon sea angler Kevin Legge embraces the elements in his Reed Storm Jacket
I was immediately impressed by the comfort and resistance to the winter weather the Aquatherm Fleece provided. The inner fleece provides warmth and the outer fabric provides a waterproof barrier.
I also combine the wearing of Transpire Fleece base layers during the colder months and find this ensures I can endure the coldest of days. I occasionally wear the double thickness transpire under top and trousers but generally find that I get too warm unless its static fishing.
The true test of clothing is undoubtedly its endurance overtime and whilst most waterproofs I have used in the past start leaking after a couple of seasons my Aquatherm Fleece Storm Jacket is still doing its job over eight years later.
(Above and Below) Keeping out the chill Arctic air in Norway
After speaking with company owner Chris Reed I put the jacket into the washing machine. It now smells far better and with the slightly fishy aroma removed it still repels the rain. The pockets have ripped and it’s getting a bit jaded but it still keeps out the rain. I will be investing in a new jacket for this coming winter.
At home in both fresh and salt water.
I visited Reed premises a few weeks ago to discuss their ongoing support of North Devon Angling News and enjoyed a tour of the premises. I have been pleased to help promote their excellent products since 2016 when I launched NDANs. The products are manufactured In Braunton by a small team of skilled workers. Reeds have been producing products aimed primarily at the Kayaking, Canoeing and outdoor adventure fraternity for twenty five years. Local anglers have discovered the benefits of Reed products with the clothing stocked at Braunton Bait Box and at Veal’s Mail Order and of course direct from Reeds at Braunton.
Chris Reed shows me around their well stocked storeroom
FULL REPORT FROM RODNEY WEVILL of THE Fluff Chuckers
A good turn out with anglers from all around the South West.
With the weather not really making its mind up whether it’s summer or early spring, sunshine, overcast and very windy.
Fishing has been a little harder on Fernworthy in 2024 compared to 2023 when a lot of really nice fish were being caught.
But we had some real talent on the banks today so even though it could be hard going there was always going to be some great results.
And results we got, everyone caught fish with
Keith Burnett landing the most fish with 11, Roger Trusscott was runner up with 7, Richard Adeney & Rodney Wevill joint 3rd with 6 .
Once again following on from round 1 Kevin Sellar caught the biggest fish at 41cm
With Wayne Thomas runner up.
A massive thank you to Turrall Flies and Lakedown Brewing . Co for their support and providing some great prizes .
Now is off to Roadford lake on the 12th October for the 3rd and final round. Where the 2024 Brown Trout Master will be crowned.
Overall results of round 1 & 2 combined
1 Roger Truscott. 582cm
2. Keith Burnett. 433cm
3. Richard Adeney. 274cm
4. Rodney Wevill. 204cm
5. Kevin Sellar. 171cm
6. Wayne Thomas. 163cm
7. Philip Hoskin. 138cm
8. Matt Rodwell. 67cm
9. Ben Elliot 64cm
10. Dave Perks. 64cm
11. Pete Williams. 54cm
12. Slawomir Olaf Pilecki 32cm
13. Jack Welshman 30cm
14. Dave Cook. 28cm
14. Andrew Watson 27cm
15. Peter Finnis. ……….,
Winner Keith BurnettRunner up Roger Trusscott
Kevin Sellar caught the biggest fish at 41cmWayne Thomas runner in biggest fish category
MY OWN REFLECTIONS FROM THE WATERS EDGE
Fernworthy Reservior is situated high on Dartmoor a few miles from Chagford an ancient and fascinating moorland village . I had not fished the reservoir since a distant day as a teenager back in the late 1970’s but I certainly do not intend to wait so long until my next visit.
Pre competition chats at the waters edge.
The reservoirs surroundings are steeped in history with ancient stone circles showing glimpses of a fascinating history. The reservior itself was built during the Second World War a time of death and turmoil that seems so far removed from this early summer day. There is a certain reassurance to be gained by spending a day in such a place far from the worries of this troubled world and something that was touched upon as we chatted briefly of war in todays world before the presentation.
Fernworthy is a brown trout fishery with a good head of wild fish supplemented with regular stockings each season. A brisk cool North West Wind and sunny spells were perhaps not ideal conditions but all competitors caught some lovely trout with some stunning looking fish amongst them. I had a frustrating day hooking nine fish an up Roger Truscott had had a similar experience. The vast majority of the fish were caught using small immitative patterns as is to be expected at a natural catch and release brown trout fishery.
A special thanks to Rodney Wevill for organising the event and gaining the support of the generous sponsors. South West Lakes Trust, Turral Flies and Lakedown Brewing
Tumbling clear waters have carved valleys between the undulating hills of Exmoor over millions of years. The River Exe from which Exmoor gets its name flows from Exe head near Simonsbath to Exmouth a distance of 60 miles. It’s major tributary the River Barle merges with the Exe a couple of miles below Dulverton a spot immortalised in the rare book ‘Philandering Angler’ by Arthur Applin. Applin reminisces about the ‘Carnarvon Arms’ waters and a “trout fat as butter with belly like gold”. And also in that classic tome “Going Fishing’ by Negley Farson. Farson writes of “an imperturbable scene which fills you with content”.
Both authors are well travelled especially for the era in which they wrote and yet there is great affection for the humble brown trout of the Exe and Barle.
Exmoor has a rich literary history that has it seems to be ongoing with Michelle Werrett’s latest book ‘Song of the Streams’ a book that is set to become a classic of its genre.
Sadly the ‘Carnarvon Arms’, a country Inn with a rich history is now converted into flats. A fate that has befallen many fine Country Hotels.
Fortunately those crimson spotted wild brown trout with bellies of gold are still abundant throughout the Exe and Barle and can be fished for at a very reasonable cost.
I joined Dulverton Angling Association a couple of years ago with the intention of exploring their eight beats of fishing on the Upper Exe and its tributaries. And so on a warm and sunny 1st of June I walked into Lance Nicholson’s shop to enquire if any beats were available. This was only a short session with Pauline joining me to relax and read a book at the water’s edge whilst I explored the river.
We were advised that the Stoats Tail beat was available and would tick all the relevant boxes. The beat is half a mile or so of fishing that runs up from the main road bridge in the town to the weir in which I often spot trout and the occasional salmon when I sometimes pause for a look in the river on route to this delightful moorland town.
Swifts were gliding above the roof tops in the hazy blue sky as we walked to the river their high pitched screeches a truly evocative sound of summer.
After passing through the gate to the riverside we followed the pathway through into the meadow where Pauline found a shady spot to read whilst I scrambled down the tree lined bank to the river.
There is surely no better place to be than beside a West Country River in late May or early June. The lush fresh green leaves provided a fine frame to the river as it tumbled over boulders and between rocky gorges.
The water was as clear as gin, as I clambered over the slippery rocks I noted that the pools were deceptively deep. I started to explore the pools and runs with a bushy dry fly. Nothing showed for the first hundred yards or so but in a large pool below a split in the river a good sized trout rose to the fly. Whilst I failed to connect I was encouraged and after resting the pool for fifteen minutes returned with a change of fly. Once again a fish rose but I again failed to connect.
Above the rapids there was a tempting looking run overhung by a holly bush. I guessed where a fish might lie and on the second cast there was a splashy rise and I was connected to a handsome Barle trout of perhaps 10”.
I looked upriver, contemplated exploring further but decided to quit whilst I was ahead and returned to Pauline. As we strolled back through the meadow we noted how delightfully detached we were from the town that was hidden from view behind the wooded river.
The following morning I once again set off across Exmoor’s winding roads as the early morning sun streamed through the vibrant green of fresh leaves. The destination was Wimbleball Lake in search of its hard fighting rainbows.
I would be joining fellow members of South Molton & District Angling Club.
I had left it too late to book a boat and headed for the bank of Rugg’s bay where I have enjoyed good sport in the past.
The path to the lake was lined with vivid yellow buttercups and birdsong drifted through the cool morning air.
A light North wind was creating a gentle ripple across the lake; I waded out into the cool water and put out the team of three flies, a black bead headed spider on the point, a black pennel on the middle dropper and a foam black buzzer on the top dropper.
After half a dozen casts the line zipped tight and a trout cartwheeled from the water. A handsome wild brown trout of close to 1lb graced the net. These are wild trout descendants of the trout that lived in the River Haddeo, before the lake was completed back in 1979. I admired the trout briefly before letting it swim back into the clear waters of the lake. A few weeks ago a wild brown trout estimated at around 7lb was tempted from the lake. I noted the large numbers of fry swimming around me as I stood waist deep. During late summer and autumn the wild browns can often be seen harassing the tiny fry in the margins. With such an abundance of food it will surely be only a matter of time before someone hooks into a double figure wild trout?
A few minutes later a hard fighting rainbow of around 2lb took the tip fly and was duly despatched.
South Molton and District Angling Club Chairman Ed Rands and a boat partner arrived fifty yards or so away and dropped anchor. They gave a me a cheery wave as I hooked into another hard fighting rainbow.
During the following hour I hooked several more rainbows and noticed that the tip fly was showing signs of stress. I used forceps to bend it back into shape after landing four rainbows of around 2lb with one or two others coming adrift.
I secured a self-portrait with the fish and held it aloft for Ed and fellow club members to witness. The fish had completed my five fish limit so it was catch and release from now on.
Several coch-y-bunddu beetle could be seen drifting on the water and it was these that I guessed the trout were feeding upon. A fact that was confirmed when one of the trout regurgitated numerous beetles that drifted away as I unhooked the fish. I expect the next few weeks will produce the cream of the years sport as the trout turn on to this annual feast.
To my surprise the boats fishing out in the bay were not catching despite several fish rising in their proximity. Ed and his boat partner even beached their boat and came over for a chat. I showed them my flies and set up telling exactly how I was presenting my team of flies.
Despite this I continued to catch returning ten more hard fighting rainbows to an estimated 4lb whilst my fellow club members remained fishless. Sometimes success in fishing comes through a slice of luck or some subtle detail that whets the fishes appetite on that day.
I packed away my tackle at around 2.00pm very content with my days sport. I will undoubtedly be back soon. Chasing Exmoor trout in both running and Stillwater. News that Tarr Steps Farm are now selling day tickets for both trout and salmon is certainly on the to do list. I have fond memories of fishing the Tarr Steps Hotel Water several years ago and treasure the memory of a grilse caught on the day of Princess Diana’s funeral back on September 6th, 1997.
The Tarr Steps Hotel has sadly closed a contributary factor is undoubtedly the dramatically declining runs of salmon. I remember spotting several dozen salmon in a days fishing. The fishing was often exceptional as the river fined down after a spate and my visits failed to coincide with that magic taking period. The salmon could be spotted though in abundance. Today the salmon are very scarce and hard to find whilst the wild brown trout are thriving a sign perhaps.
Chew Valley Lakes reputation was further enhanced this Spring with the capture of a British Record pike scaling 47lb 5oz. I have fished the lake on and off for over twenty years and enjoyed a mix of success and failure at the venue.
I joined my good friend Bruce Elston for a day with the fly rod. The weather forecast had looked good with a moderate North West Breeze and no rain. I arrived at the lake just after 9:00am and we chatted to fellow anglers as we loaded our gear onto the boat. It appeared that the fishing had been hard going. Undeterred we set out for our chosen area searching the water casting our big flies in ten foot of water. With a drogue controlling our drift we covered water at a steady pace.
There was suspended algae present in the water and visibility was not as good as on some previous visits. On the first drift we had a couple of follows and pulls which was encouraging.
Next drift Bruce hooked into a jack of around 4lb which boosted our confidence. On the next drift it was my turn and I brought a jack of around 4lb to the boat nothing big but at least we were catching. The next couple of drifts resulted in a couple of missed takes and a micro jack for Bruce.
As the day raced past takes dried up as they often do during the afternoon. Hundreds of swifts were swooping over the water undoubtedly feasting upon insects. To our surprise throughout the day we saw only a couple of trout rising which for late May was perhaps a little strange.
With wind increasing and action non-existent we decided to head for shelter and enjoy an early evening snack. In a sheltered bay I lit the stove and fried up a dozen chipolata sausages. Bruce put out a team of buzzers whilst he waited for the culinary delight of a sausage sandwich.
The sun broke through momentarily bathing the bay in evening light. We resumed our search for a while in the bay before once again heading back to the main expanse of the lake. I tempted another micro jack on one of Rodney Wevil’s bright orange scruffy tigers.
As the light faded from a late Spring day we had several last drifts eventually conceding defeat at 20:45.
We had made many casts during close to nine hours of fishing at a guess I reckon we notched up close to a thousands casts in the day.
Chew Valley Lake can be hard; its draw is of course that the next cast could bring that fish of a lifetime. I was fortunate to catch that fish a couple of years ago so I know it can happen. Maybe next cast?
Pike fishing seems to follow a natural cycle with each year slightly different. There seems to be an explosion of micro jacks this year with a few very large fish and low numbers of medium sized pike. The lake is large however and will always hold mystery and just maybe another British Record. A fifty ?
Salmon are in trouble. Ask anyone involved and they’ll tell you how bad it is and who’s to blame (it’s always someone else).
It’s so bad that the Atlantic Salmon is now officially an IUCN Red List Endangered Species in the UK. In Ireland, the population has collapsed by 80% in 20 years. Other places and other salmon species are not far behind, and the word extinction really has entered the debate.
We can see this decline by watching the way the money flows. Just about everywhere the value is slowly ebbing out of salmon fishing, almost no matter how or where we do it, and from mega-trawler to rod & line.
Sure, we can remove dams and nets, replant catchments and clean up pollution to help mitigate the decline, but they’re not enough.
This crisis is universal, which is of note, because not everywhere has nets or fish farms or pollution or management corruption. Indeed, some have none of the above, yet their salmon are in trouble.
One of Scotland’s most exclusive rivers, the Helmsdale, used to be a place where fishing was accessed via dead men’s shoes. Royalty graced its banks and the management was so discrete as to be almost uncontactable. A rod on the Helmsdale was a mark of status. Now the Helmsdale has gaps to fill and is promoting itself in upmarket magazines. It has no pollution and no fish farms to blame. Something else is going wrong.
What salmon everywhere have in common is rising water temperatures. This is happening both at sea and in rivers. High temps impact badly on salmon at every stage of their lifecycle, from squeezed and collapsing ocean food chains to overheated redds and undernourished smolts failing to make the journey back to sea. The salmon lifecycle makes them especially vulnerable to warming water.
This is real and it’s happening everywhere. Check out the Missing Salmon Alliance for a thorough breakdown of these combined threats. Their rallying call is Cold, Clean Water – which is as succinct a summary of the salmon’s plight as you can find anywhere.
And it’s not just salmon: Entire food chains are wobbling. In recent years 10 billion snow crabs have gone missing from Alaskan waters and the most plausible explanation is starvation in warming seas. A few years ago 100m Alaskan cod went AWOL for the same reason: Warmth increases fish and crustacean metabolic rates, so they have to eat more just to maintain body weight. At the same time the warm water suppresses growth in their food supply. So they need more, get less and starve. It’s becoming a regular feature of ocean life.
Worse, the increase in metabolic rate may also increase salmon’s need for oxygen beyond the ability of their gills to fully deliver. If so, that too would inhibit growth and reproduction.
To understand why, we need to do some time travelling because today’s benign weather wasn’t always a given. Our ancestors had a much tougher time than us.
About 17,000 years ago the world was in the depths of the last Ice Age. We humans scraped a marginal existence as hunter-gatherers. Life was freezing and the world was a whopping 5c colder than nowadays.
Global Temperatures from mid-Ice Age. With thanks to Andrew Dessler, Texas A&M University.
We hit our stride about 10k years ago when the climate warmed and delivered a sweet spot that stuck. We could sow crops, expect to harvest them and feed our expanding population. Great civilisations formed. We could also hunt and fish for nature’s seemingly boundless resources such as the herbivores that roamed the plains and the fish and whales in our seas. The post-glacial world was rich in opportunity.
This is the Holocene Era: The time when the Earth and its climate came good for humans. There were blips along the way: a few major volcanic eruptions that caused cooling and short-term global famines, for example. But since the end of the Ice Age, Planet Earth’s climate has been stable and very hospitable.
Then came the Industrial Revolution and the arrival of the fossil fuel era. We are about 250 years into it now – the red zone below.
The Carbon Era Temperature Spike (closer to 1.4c now): Andrew Dessler, Texas A&M
Current predictions are that temperatures will likely peak at about +2-3C, with growing confidence that it will be a lot closer to 2C than 3C. The hoped-for 1.5C target is surely a lost cause.
We have understood the basic science behind this since the mid-1800s. It’s not difficult – excess CO2 is pollution that traps heat in the atmosphere. We can measure it very accurately. We know the science is good and that what’s happening now is unfolding as scientists predicted it would (my first TV report saying the Holocene could unwind was nearly 30 years ago, and I was in Antarctica reporting established science, not breaking new ground). The scientists even got the speed of change about right, although as a layman I’m shocked by what we’re seeing now:
NASA animation of global temperature change since 1880:
We’re hitting temperatures not seen for 125,000 years and it’s going to get worse. When we finally stop pumping out CO2, we will revert to a long, slow cooling trajectory (business as usual). It will take thousands of years to get back to where we were just 250 years ago ( NASA ). That’s one heck of a hangover from our CO2 party that we’re giving to future generations.
It’s not all bad news (below). Climate scepticism is fading, clearing the way for better political engagement. The graphic below shows that only the 10% or so on the margin are still drinking neat Clorox. This group are mostly hard-core conspiracy theorists and have bucket lists of competing dire consequences they expect to suffer. You’d think climate doomsterism would be right up their victim-centric street, but I don’t think they will ever shift their position by much. I suppose they believe that one day they’ll be proved right and they won’t be the only ones dying of vaccine-preventable diseases or in G3/4/5 radio mast attacks.
The remaining 90% of us are increasingly concerned about climate change. The dial is shifting.
Tracking the decline of Climate Denial 2013-2023
So where does this leave the salmon?
The answer is worrying: We can do a great deal to adapt to and mitigate the impacts, but the bottom line is that we’re stuck in a pattern of decline that won’t end until we tackle the root problem. The Earth is getting too warm and it’s happening too fast for the fish to adapt.
It’s almost Mid-May and the evenings are long with dusk now lingering well past 9.00pm. I always seem to be caught out not fully appreciating the onset of Summer realizing all too soon that it’s getting towards the longest day and that those days will once again start to shorten. In the words of that Pink Floyd song; Staying home to watch the rain You are young and life is long And there is time to kill today And then one day you find Ten years have got behind you No one told you when to run You missed the starting gun
I arrived at the fishing hut early evening pleased to be at the beat for only the second time this season. I was half expecting there to be another angler fishing but I had the fishing to myself. I had brought my salmon rod and a light trout rod just in case the trout were rising and could be tempted on a dry fly.
The river looked to be in fine fettle a perfect height and good clarity. I watched the river carefully for signs of life but no fish moved.
I left the trout rod in the hut and approached the water’s edge extended a line across the water and drifted a silver stoat’s tail across the river. I made my way carefully negotiating the slippery rocks coated in slimy algae. My casting could be better I thought, no sweet rhythm this evening.
After a few steps I was startled by a head appearing just a couple of feet from the rod tip. The large otter rolled again a further few yards down river. There are some who curse the otter for it predates upon the salmon and sea trout. I take a slightly different view for whilst I fear for the salmon I accept that otters have hunted this river for centuries. There was once an abundance of salmon in this beautiful river more than enough for angler and otter.
I feel sure that if I had stood on this river bank just thirty years ago salmon and sea trout would be leaping from the water crashing back with loud splashes that would fuel the anticipation.
In the shadows sea trout would have leapt their heavy splashes rising the anglers anticipation.
This evening the ever flowing river heads to the estuary and the ocean beyond. During my two hours I drift my fly in fading hope. There are no glimpses of silver, the river banks are lush and green. The scent of wild garlic drifts in the warm evening air. But despite the natural beauty all around I cannot help but dwell upon the lack of salmon and sea trout. As a young angler I assumed the salmon and sea trout would always run the river or at least throughout my lifetime. Sadly I realize that this may not be so as the actions of mankind decimate the natural world and in particular the rivers those arteries of the land.
In recent months I have been involved in the screening of the film Riverwoods to audiences across North Devon. The film suggests solutions to the demise of salmon. After the film I give a presentation about salmon decline in the South West and beyond. I talk of the plight of salmon, their decline in my lifetime and suggest ways that we can all delay their route to extinction.
I ponder upon the salmon’s plight as I pack away my tackle. The angler, the otter and the salmon are all perhaps on borrowed time unless we act to bring our rivers back to life.
As I step from the River I again see the Otter heading back up river where Henry Williamsons fictional Tarka may well have swum. I read the tale recently a book that records a time of abundance full of cruelty but all within a more balanced natural world before a burgeoning population brought us to our present place in history.
Spot the otter – Right of the rivers centre.
And you run and you run to catch up with the sun but it’s sinking Racing around to come up behind you again The sun is the same in a relative way but your older Shorter of breath and one day closer to death
My next trip to the river will be to the higher reaches where the water still glistens running clear with vibrant beautiful crimson spotted brown trout in abundance.
Fishing is good for the soul and we really need to celebrate the wonderful nature that we still have around us. The fleeting glimpse of electric blue as a kingfisher flashes past. The swooping swift, the evocative call of the cuckoo, the cheerful chirp of the chiff chaff.
That great Countryside writer BB’s books include the rather poignant words. 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
I wonder what BB would make of today’s world?
After several aborted trips due to bad weather it was good to eventually get back out to sea on a Combe Martin SAC boat trip out of Minehead with Steve Webber skipper of Osprey Charters. As a club we have been fishing with Steve for many years a skipper who has provided us with some exciting fishing trips over the decades.
On this day we had six anglers on board two of which are good friends who kindly came along filling vacant places left by club members who could not make the trip.
The forecast for once promised calm seas, light winds and perhaps a little sunshine!
The boat was due to sail from the harbour at 10:30am so a rendezvous at the Minehead Witherspoon’s was arranged at 9:00am. This proved an unwise move in some ways as discussing the days fishing prospects over a full English was difficult as it appeared that Butlins stags had invaded in numbers. Alcohol in quantity at 9:00am certainly fuelled the volume making hearing a little challenging for those of us who have impaired hearing. Like many anglers we are getting on a bit!
And so we climbed onto Osprey all pleased to be leaving the raucous delights of Minehead to the young Butlin brigade.
Steve welcomed us with an ever cheery greeting and we set off for familiar fishing grounds to the West of Minehead. The tide was ebbing as Steve dropped anchor at the first mark. The steep wooded cliffs were lush and green. The sea a pleasing calm beneath a blue sky interspersed with light white cotton wool clouds.
Fishing talk flowed freely with a bit of local politics, reminisce and fishy tales thrown into the mix.
I think I was lucky to catch the first fish a small smoothound. Dogfish were to prove a menace throughout the day snaffling baits intended for more worthy fish.
Jack Phillips caught a smoothound of perhaps seven pounds that gave a good account and was the first of several caught throughout the day. The best a fish of around ten pounds to my good friend Bruce Elston his first of the species and a welcome catch adding to his impressive tally of species across salt and freshwater.
Bruce Elston with a double figure hound.
Ray were the main target and several small eyed ray were tempted at this first mark of the day.
Club Secretary Nick Phillips with a nice small eyed ray.
Jack hooked a very good fish that put a healthy bend in his rod before severing the 60lb b.s hook length after a ten minute tussle in a strong tide.
A battle lost…what was it?
As the tide eased towards low water. Steve up anchored and steamed further west to a renowned area for ray.
I decided to drop down my down-tider for the first time having concentrated on Up-tiding for the first couple of hours. A mackerel head and flappers was devoured within a few moments of it hitting the seabed. A large huss of just over 10lb appeared on the murky water surface and I was pleased when it slid safely into the net. They have an annoying habit of spitting out the bait on the surface.
A steady succession of hounds and ray were brought to the boat. Steve kept us fully hydrated with tea and coffee throughout. Friendly banter flowed and the sun shone down.
Peter Robinson
Keith Armishaw with a small eyed ray
As the tide flooded we made a couple more moves to new areas based upon Steve’s extensive knowledge of this spectacular stretch of Somerset coastline.
Our last mark was close to where we had started and after a quiet start gave a frantic last hour with several small-eyed nudging double figures and a stunning thornback to Peter Robinson.
I lost a good fish that slipped the hook just a few yards from the boat. A good smoothound or a big bass? I will never know.
Jack Phillips with a good small eyed ray
After close to nine hours at sea Steve called last orders and we steamed back to Minehead. The sun was sinking in the west as we washed down the boat. It had been a great day typical of a day out of Minehead its murky waters home to an array of ray and other species. All within a very short steam of the port.
Steve and his family have three charter boats and Speed-bait operating out of Minehead. Check links below:-
