Monthly Archives: June 2011

BERKSHIRE

25 Saturday Jun 2011

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Howard Mann fishes…for anything!

As I write this, he is in Alaska with Celine and Australian buddies, looking for steelheads and Pacific salmon!

His first love, “real fishing” as he insists, is for coarse fish, and casting a fly is a relatively newly acquired skill, but there is not too much he does not know about how to catch pike, bream, perch, roach and barble from the Thames at the bottom of his garden (and anywhere else, he can, with ‘celeb’ fishing pals) and his specimens are recorded and photographed and logged on a ‘scoreboard’ in his fishing hut, along with prize catch of each by his son, and also visiting friends. He has more fishing ‘stuff’ than you can wave a stick at in there. Along with a selection of walking and rambling gear, for he, like me, is ‘on a mission’ His, is to walk to the highest point in every county. We have agreed to differ on the number of counties there are! He is a purist!

After blanking on the Usk together in April, he reckoned that Round Two with is new dysyllabic (trout!) pal, on his syndicate water would be productive, and so it was to be.

June 2011- the Kennet

Benham Park is a magnificent mansion designed by Henry Holland and Capability Brown for William, 6th Baron Craven in 1775, and today it has been converted to offices !?

But through its 150 hectares, and just two miles upstream of Newbury, flows the Kennet.

I don’t know the Kennet that well. I have fished it upstream at Barton Court with only an escapee rainbow to my name. But the water seems clearer, and more obviously chalk stream there, and just four miles upstream. The water this day at Benham Park, was, in parts, ‘grey’,

and Keeper, Gary Allen explained that above Benham, the River Kennet and the Kennet & Avon Canal are conjoined. Whereas once the canal ran clear and shoals of fish, mainly roach, were always evident, the onset of lottery funding and the impacts of additional recreational use has changed its character, and water clarity is a distant memory. So this water ‘dirty’ water makes its way into the Kennet. The water I witnessed below the fishing hut has phosphates and suspended solids in it, along with algal growth and greater silt concentration, and low winter rainfall and low Summer levels means that he dare not cut the weed, for fear that whilst flows will increase and some clarity will be regained, water levels will fall and fish stocks will be vulnerable to predation. As a Keeper he is stuck between a ‘rock and a hard place’, and whilst winter rains will restore the aquifers, and improve matters, the real need is a complete separation of the canal and the river, and attempts are ongoing to achieve this.

Our day started with Howard revealing that the race below the hatch in front of the fishing hut was, in Victorian times, the Craven family swimming pool,

and iron works still show where the diving board stood. I have to confess that I was more impressed by the rises under the trees opposite, but also wary about growing cloud cover and an increasing breeze, suggesting that rain was en route.

And after walking to the bottom of Parliament Draft, one of Howard’s favourite carriers, a few casts later and the drizzle began. But below the bridge where were suspended some cords attached to floating boards,

 

 

 

 

 

 

at the end of the race through the narrow arched brickwork and the etched out deeps, I connected and lost. But another cast and a jerking retrieve (if you have not read Robert Hughes’  ‘A Jerk on One End’…do, it’s very amusing!) and minutes later, my first Kennet brown was banked and returned.

 

 

 

 

 

 

And then I netted a second from the same pool hooked by Howard, in the rains…

But the rain stopped and we walked and cast occasionally into the carriers, including the renewed, Allens Brook, until a call from Gary suggested we tried emergers on the main stream below the hatch at the top of the club’s beat.

Well….a small brown (only my second from the Kennet) was followed by two dace, until a huge shouldered, wide mouthed brown took a look at my Adams, and I was astonished and by its size and just gasped in amazement at what I had seen come up to the surface….and cast eagerly again, for I sensed no contact, and thought that without pricking him, he might be tempted up again….and he was, and was hooked, two casts later. He was strong and fought so hard and I shouted to Howard for help, because from my casting point some feet above the water there was no easy access to net him, and besides mine was too small.

This photograph does this specimen no favours,

because he was a tad under 3lbs, and is yet another large wild brownie which I have been fortunate to catch this season.

When you catch such a fish, you stop and think, just what a privilege it is to unhook, hold and admire such beauty, and to know he is going back to grow and enjoy freedom in a lovely stream.  And…inside you, the Hunter Gatherer feels that in spite of man’s natural urges, there is no real desire to catch another, for there are few to match him. He was that magnificent, and I am pleased to have returned him.

So, stop now, and be grateful…for what you (I) have just experienced.

And so I was.

Howard and I hooked up again (sic) and walked the length of the beat to the dreaded A34 bridge, and cast a few times into waters, which may have held fish, but…my day was already complete.

Thanks, Howard…now where shall we fish next, together? And on the fly!

Oh!….those boards below the bridge on Allens Brook? They mark where Gary has set traps for the horrid American Signal Crayfish, and walking downstream we bumped into him on his 4-wheel, and observed buckets of his ‘catch of the day’, which will by now have been served up and enjoyed by diners in a local pub no doubt. Sadly they will be on the menu for some time to come.

Even though this stretch of the Kennet needs attention, Gary keep(er)s his beat of this special river extremely well. The syndicate is lucky to have him.

DORSET

05 Sunday Jun 2011

Posted by in Dorset

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My experience of Wessex Chalk Streams’ fishings in September 09, through whom I first ventured onto a Dorset river was influenced, positively, by the helpful tips at the time of booking, from Richard Slocock for tackling the Moreton beat, but, differently, for the lack of response to several attempts afterwards to engage in an exchange to understand some of what I observed, and of which I wished to learn more. (Were those salmon redds I spied?)

A difficult day in changeable weather, when I was advised to “bring a good selection of weighted nymphs”, did, nevertheless yield one trout, to an Elk Hair Caddis.

My second visit to the Frome was entirely better….memorable, fulfilling and a complete joy!

May 2011 – the Frome

Stephen Wingfield Digby and I worked together some five years ago, and prior.

The wretched ‘Big C’ took away the Mother of his three adult children, but he found a new happiness with Sylvia, who herself had lost her Husband to the same terror. Their’s is A Love Story, and few will forget their ‘coming out’ in Brewers Hall, when said Diggers, proudly presented his Fiancee to our Company, his smile had to be seen to be believed!

He is a ‘Shot’ of note, a salmon fisher by preference, and a beautiful presenter of a dry fly to a rising trout….and when he learned of my quest, he generously invited me to fish the famed Wrackleford beat (see Trout & Salmon, March 2010) where he has two rods on Mondays through the season.

The drive to Dorset was made largely in light, but continuous drizzle, but prospects remained buoyed by the forecast for sun spreading from the West, late in the afternoon, and after some coffee, Stephen suggested a mosey down to the Home Beat, which prompted an “Ooohhh!!” from me, and a confirmation for Simon Cooper’s description of this lovely water, in this short video –  www.fishingbreaks.co.uk/movies/wrackleford.htm

A few casts, some with nymph, and some with an enticing yellow humpy, only produced one bit of interest. But we walked the entire length of this section, with me looking for likely lies…and spotting many, whilst not seeing many fish, which I judged to be in the weedy margins or at the bottom of the many pools, but there was still a very strong sense of anticipation, about.

And whilst when we ventured out in the afternoon, there was still moisture in the air, the clouds were breaking and the temperature was noticably higher and at the bottom of the beat some Mays were hatching to the odd ‘gollop’ and the splashy rise of eager trout, and two jumped out of the water in their enthusiasm to feast, and suddenly all looked good !

 

 

 

 

 

 

Two fish came up to my (last!) Webster’s Infallible but were missed, before the next nailed it and my first brown came to net.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The second, fought like a demon, and I believe it to be the largest brown I have taken from an English river at between 2 ½ and 2 ¾ lbs….and even better,

Stephen convinced me that the Wrackleford stocking policy is such it was almost certainly, a wild fish.

Arriving at the Eel House by the Home Beat Hatches,

I met Stephen’s other guest, who had already caught six fish! Stephen is Chairman of the Governing Board of the renowned Sherborne School, and his guest is Chairman of another. But I was flattered to realise that he was invited on that day for another reason. For Phillip Jones was until 2007, the Head Master of my Alma Mater…Christ College in Brecon, where, of course, I learned to fish….we had interesting chats through then until the evening’s end after supper, of that special school, and how he sought and did influence proceedings in his time, and compared with mine!

By 5 pm the fish were rising in warm air, and we caught twenty or so between us, mine latterly (another four) to a Mayfly (Danica) spinner, on Stephen’s recommendation,

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

and after a Pimms break at six, it was back to fishing. But the temperature was dropping, and the dancing Mays, hatching olives, and skittling caddis of before ourdrinks break, had disappeared, and there were to be no more fish…just the prospect of Sylvia’s lovely dinner. There’s more to fishing than catching fish!

Interesting post script – Stephen would have killed my big brown…for he judged it to be quite old, but more importantly, it probably predates on small browns. I must reflect on this piece of fishing wisdom.

HERTFORDSHIRE

04 Saturday Jun 2011

Posted by in Hertfordshire

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The opportunity to fish Hertfordshire again, originated from a conversation with a fellow Master in 2010…the Master of the Worshipful Company of Scientific Instrument Makers, Harry Tee. We met through the interminable lunches and dinners, but discovered a mutual passion during the traditional ‘end of term’ get together known colloquially as ‘The Ironbridge Weekend’ which enables the Alumni and spouses to mix socially outside of the City’ formality and out of town, and at the same time, learn about Telford’s massive contribution to the Industrial  Revolution in our country. But Harry and I talked ‘fishing’! And he invited me to try for the trout on his syndicate’s stream.

June 2011 – the Rib

I would describe the Rib as a stream stocked with trout,

rather than a trout stream, but because it has been, it now has a head of wild fish, too. Originating near the East Hertfordshire village of Buckland it is 20 miles long and runs parallel with the A10 through Buntingford, Westmill, Braughing, Puckeridge and Standon until it reaches its confluence with the River Lea near Hertford. It flows over clay which, as it did when I visited, can discolour it, but on my visit this was because flows were slow after a Spring drought, and water levels were low. “A good storm will clean and transform it”, declared Harry, although a tinge of colour is the norm. His beat in Thundridge is leased to a small syndicate, known as the Fanham Fly Fishers Association, and its dozen or so members have a mile of river where, in addition to seeing the odd trout, I spotted a couple of shoals of dace, and I suspect the odd, rather large chub is hooked when emerging from under the roots of alder along this stretch.

The fishing is tough. No manicuring here.

In fact in the adjacent farmland, the broad bean acreage, and the wheat, too,  is only separated from the stream by the narrow margin of high nettle which made me grateful I was wadered, and this vegetation abbuts the  six foot drop to the stream, which persuades members to bring  long handle landing nets to capture their catch from above! And then there are the trees, bushes, stringy grasses, cow parsely et al. which combined with the side wind on this day, made casting a longer line and dry fly, testing to say the least. This is real, wild, small stream fishing, which Readers will know is exciting me, more and more.

Flies this day were few and far between, and rises were scarce. But the sun was up, and maybe…a little later, perhaps?

Harry got a ‘nudge’ to his Wulff, and when I spotted a rise upstream of him, I tied on a Greenwells but the wind prevented a sensible presentation through a tight line between the alders. In spite of my appalling faffing, huffing and puffing, the broad backed fish patrolling beneath me was not spooked by my dreadful attempts to reach the fish beyond him. I first thought him to be a chub, but when he gently rose to sip a fly and I spotted his spots, I started to concentrate, and turned into an Intrepid Stalker. Can you catapult cast a weighted nymph?   I learned to, and fast…and quickly had a take. And that’s when I realised I had a problem…no long handled landing net!

He was too heavy to haul out and up several feet of bank on my Moreno Borriero 4-wt bamboo rod, so I had to go down and get him! Sliding down through the nettles was easy, but the roots I planned to arrest my slide did not, and I was into four feet of water quickly, but the fish was well hooked and after several powerful deep plunges, he was persuaded into my tiny net. Stocking is done with fish around the pound mark by the syndicate, so at 2lbs. He must have been in the river a while.

Clambering back up through the nettles was interesting…

I caught a few dace later on a BWO cdc, too…crazy fishing this, but a little oasis of pleasure for the group who enjoy it…as I did…thanks, Harry.

EAST YORKSHIRE

01 Wednesday Jun 2011

Posted by in East Yorkshire

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Dinner the night before with Clare and Julian in their lovely and grand farmhouse in Melbourne was a delight, and I left them in high hopes as the wind seemed to have abated, and the sun was shining in a clear blue sky. As it was, having driven through the Wolds, when I arrived at Mulberry Whin, the farm owned by the Dixons, and just to the south of Great Driffield, toward the tip of the most northerly seam of chalk in the UK.

Owner, Brian

has a property which exudes ‘friendly’. He engages newcomers with his enthusiasm for the outdoors and happily describes what he hopes, whilst hares run amok in the protected meadow, and curlews sing …he is grateful for the help he receives from English Nature, and proud of the haven he is creating, and having reclaimed his beat, previously leased to the Driffield Angling Club, he is applying conservation techniques to his mile on a world famous river, without overdressing it  ‘a la Test’

…his is a kept, rather than manicured water…..and it is lovely.

It  is roughly forty feet wide at this point and has white gravelly shallows, faster runs between bulky ranunculus, and in the bends, the deepest pools which you could dive into safely…but above all, the water has such clarity you can see the bottom anywhere,

 

 

 

 

 

 

which means the fish can see you, too. But these are proud fish and safe in the knowledge that cover is never far away, and they hold station, fearlessly, and some trout are quite big, as are the grayling, which Brian informed me, come to net at over 2lbs regularly. And I saw two eels swimming upstream to goodness knows where, because the Beck rises only a few miles upstream of us…but a good sighting, and a rare one.

May 2011 – the Driffield West Beck

I am here with Paul Jennings and his friend, Nigel Houston, and after our ‘hellos’, we split up and I walked to the bottom of the beat. It was a windy morning (again) and there was little in the way of fly life, and I can see the fish deep down. An Adams brought on a couple of takes, but the fish are quick, and nothing comes. I arrived where Paul was casting to several rising fish, but we could not see what they were taking. Certainly there were no duns to be seen, so they must have been sipping emergers, but Paul told me he had ‘been through the box’ (and netted just one fish) and he concluded that in the slow flow, they had so much time to see the offering, their selectivity was painfully frustrating!

I leapfrogged just above to cast at a fish rising under an overhanging bush and connected….and after a strong fight, netted an escapee rainbow,

 

 

 

 

 

 

unsure whether to claim East Yorkshire as mine!

Lunch at the aptly named ‘Trout’ Inn at Wansford gave us the opportunity to relax and catch up. Nigel , who fishes less often than Paul and I, had a good morning and several fish, so was happy. After lunch, we switched ends and I restarted where Paul had been because fish were still feeding.

There was one fish which I could see easily and he came up regularly, and I, too, tried my box of flies to tempt him, but did not. Another, and on two occasions rose, sucked in my fly which went sub-surface, and I, carefully lifted into the fish, and the fly came gently out of its mouth, to an exasperated snort from yours truly. God….was this frustrating! So I moved upstream.

I saw another, quite good fish rising, and stood watching him, still unable to see to what. I was fascinated to see his broad shouldered back come up, and even from behind him, watch a wide mouth open and gently ingest what I am sure were emergers, for still there was nothing floating past. I flicked an Adams over him….nothing;  I changed to an elk hair caddis….no interest. Damn him! At least I had not spooked him, so I tied on a grey, gold ribbed, unweighted nymph and wet it so that it would sink slowly to the level where I guessed he was lying. One cast…nothing;   another, and a tempting lift,…and bang/bingo/ Got Him!  A quick and vicious fight followed which saw him jump out of the water three times, then career into and under the bank side foliage, but my trusty Loomis was up to pulling him out from under, and all the knots in my leader held, and sliding down into the water he was netted. A  fine East Yorkshire brownie, of maybe, 2lbs.

I only wanted one fish, I had told Brian, and that’s all I had, so from now the escapee could remain just that! A renegade!!

Oh!  And through the afternoon, the wind dropped!!

Dinner at The Wellington at Lund was excellent…try the haddock on Stornaway black pudding and cheese sauce, starter…its stunning!

After overnighting with Paul’s folk  (the lovely Josie and the talented  Richard) who live

near to where the Foston Beck rises in Kilham, we were off to fish it.

May 2011 – the Foston Beck

This turned out to be a dull day, and the rains came, too. We caught no fish, and saw very few, either. But at its higher reaches it is the prettiest stream and reminds me of the Ebble.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Members of the Foston Fishing Club are monitoring catches carefully, and the dreaded ‘otter’ word has come up (yet) again as catches have been so poor. The only fish I saw,  went screaming for cover when they spotted me/us, and I suspect low water levels have something to do with poor fishing.

Paul and Nigel were great company, and we will fish again soon.

My Yorkshire sweep now has two of the three Ridings netted, as well as South Yorkshire. It was John Aston who told me what a Riding is….do you know?