The season certainly seem to be drifting by on life’s current in an ever increasing speed and it seems only a short time since I was last at the Arundell for the grayling day back in early March. https://www.northdevonanglingnews.co.uk/2025/03/06/arundell-spring-grayling-day/
Over three months later and the grayling closed season has passed and summer sea trout are ascending the rivers of the Tamar catchment. The Arundell boasts twenty miles of water amidst lush landscapes of the Devon and Cornish borders. I had arranged a day’s fishing with my good friend Jeff Pearce and had arranged to meet at the Arundell tackle shop for 9:00am.
Traffic at Bideford delayed my journey and it was 9:30am before I arrived and apologised for my lateness. Jeff had enjoyed chatting with fellow fishing guests and James Christoforou who is the venues head of Fishing.
James is a breath of fresh air with an abundance of passion and optimism befitting an angler from a younger generation. James talked of the recent upturn in fishing in the rivers following a good summer spate with good numbers of sea trout showing along with a few salmon. These migratory visitors really are the icing on the cake with abundant wild brown trout and some stunning grayling providing consistent opportunity’s for anglers.
It is always well worth listening carefully to advice from experienced local anglers and James certainly knows the hotels waters intimately explaining to Jeff and I where to fish and suggesting which flies to use and how to fish them.
Jeff is a keen exponent of nymph fishing and engaged in an in depth discussion with James delving into the intricacies of fly design. Like many other anglers I know including myself he carries an extensive selection of fly patterns yet in reality only fishes with a tiny proportion of them. My own interpretation of the discussion is to some extent that there is some basis in certain flies working well on specific rivers. This could be in part be due to anglers following trends and traditions. It is also likely that certain colours are more visible in certain tinges of water colour. The weight of a nymph is undoubtedly vital in ensuring that a fly gets down to where the fish are so the stronger and deeper the pool the heavier the fly needs to be. So the perfect nymph for the Arundell waters is perhaps a tungsten silver headed jig style with black body and sprinkling of silver flashy sparkle.
It was late morning by the time we actually arrived at the waters edge keen to start exploring the deep pools and runs. We both carried two rods one set up with a dry fly and the other with a nymphing set up.
We started fishing on Beat 2 and Bridge Pool where Jeff commenced the days quest drifting his team of nymphs slow and deep as a rather nonchalant duck observed proceedings.
The lush green foliage of late June hung over the river its course carved through rocky bed rock over thousands of years. As I often say each river has its own unique character and the River Lyd is undoubtedly one of the West Country’s finest and after recent rainfall to flush sediment its waters seemed to be in sparkling health.
BB that great Countryside Writers Children’s Book ‘The Little Grey Men’ is a classic tome that captures the magic of a rivers journey and the shaded waters of the River Lyd somehow resonated within the pages of the book. This morning could easily have been a day BB describes “ After a soft grey morning, the sun had slowly broken through the clouds, and every blackbird and thrush in Lucking’s Meadow began to warble and tune up; the first opening bars of a great symphony in praise of life”. My ponderings on gnomes dwelling in the shady banks of the River Lyd are undoubtedly deluded for BB states “ For secrecy was of utmost importance, especially in these modern days when discovery would mean the end of everything. Why these little creatures had survived for so long is puzzling, because though they lived in this rural countryside, it was by no means ‘wild’ in the sense that some parts of Devon and Cornwall are wild, and there are, to my knowledge, no gnomes left now in either of these last two localities, though I understand they are still to be found in some parts of Ireland”.
We fished carefully up through deep shady pools that hid their secrets as sunlight broke through the vibrant green canopy of midsummer. We were both using bright indicators to suspend our nymphs to just trip the riverbed. This was not traditional fly fishing and the purist would certainly not approve. We are going through a revolution in fly fishing at the moment as technics from across the wider world are embraced by a younger generation who push the boundaries and break down the barriers between disciplines.
Watching our bright indicators drift slowly through deep calm pools is little different to trotting with a float and what’s wrong with that?
There is no doubt that catching on an upstream dry fly is more satisfying and that delectable moment of deception is one to savour. However life is short and in these modern times if we want a younger generation to embrace the sport then perhaps we have to accept a wider range of tactics and values. It is perhaps possible to draw comparison with today’s cricket scene. The traditionalist will always extol proper Test match cricket; five days of endeavours to be savoured and analysed. A younger generation will perhaps prefer the wham bam thrust of 20/20 cricket that is all over in just a few hours.
Jeff was first to connect and I watched as a sea trout gyrated in the strong current as it was persuaded to the waiting net. The silver flanks glistened as we admired its beauty before slipping it back into the cool waters.
Boosted by this success we both searched intently drifting the nymphs through the pools. I hooked a small brown trout that shook the hook and caught a couple of small parr.
We then took a break to drive a short distance to the fish beat 3 a stretch of river that we had fished back in early March when Jeff had caught a grayling and I had lost one.
We went our separate ways now alternating between pools immersed in our own endeavours to a large extent. When we met up a short while later Jeff was excited to recall the capture of a fine sea trout estimated at around 2lb at had made his reel scream as it battled gamely.
It is often the case that when I fish with Jeff we seem to mirror each other’s catch’s and when one of us enjoys a good first half the other succeeds in the second half. This was certainly my hope as I searched the pools attempting to read the water carefully focussing on those sections that took my fancy.
The deep fast water towards the head of the pools and runs tempted me and I searched these areas in preference to the slower deeper areas.
I undoubtedly missed a couple of fish as my indicator dipped beneath the surface or twitched vigorously with my strike finding no connection.
Then that wonderful moment of connection came and a bar of silver erupted from the water leaping almost to eye level before coming adrift after just a few seconds of adrenalin fuelled excitement.
Ten minutes later I hooked another larger fish that battled hard again leaping from the water before diving deep and under the far bank where I feared the line would catch in the roots of bankside trees. I savoured the bending rod and feel of a good fish in the strong current. I knelt at the water’s edge and guided the sea trout towards the waiting net. Then elation turned to dejection as the hook hold gave and my silver prize disappeared with flick of its tail.
The two glimpses of silver leaping and gyrating on my line are lodged in that deep file of memories in the mind. Merging with the lush green of early summer clear glistening water following a summer spate. The electric blue of kingfisher and the cheerful echoes of chiff-chaff and wren song in a river valley. Damsel flies and dragon flies haunting the river margins. As many of BB’s books commence,
The wonder of the world
Its beauty and its power,
The shapes of things,
Their colours lights and shades,
Look ye also while life lasts.
I caught up with Jeff at the weir pool and told of my losses. We chatted and fished the deep water above the weir together. A few trout dimpled the surface and Jeff switched to dry fly tactics whilst I persisted with the deep nymph tactics and missed a couple of chances.
We had planned to pack up at around 5.00pm but a glance at the time revealed it was now past 6.00pm and after ten or so last casts we reluctantly walked back across the waterside meadows to return home. Already plotting further trips with a youthful enthusiasm that belied our years. The indicator deep fished nymph will certainly be used elsewhere to explore those deeper pools when the fish are not rising.
