Author Archives: Tony Mair

HAMPSHIRE

28 Monday May 2012

Posted by in Hampshire

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May 2012 – The Test

Ah! The frustrations of fishing, and in particular in the may fly season, which I have always considered to be misnamed, Duffers’ Fortnight.

Chris Satterthwaite (aka Satts)

has a rod on the Broadlands beat of the Test, and he invited me down.

After the wet and windy start to the season and to Spring, in general, the heat we enjoyed in March has returned with a vengeance, recent days have been glorious…hot, clear and long. The mays have been coming off the lower Test for a

week, and already the trout are gauged and getting lazy, I was warned by Head Keeper, Jon Hall, who also advised “a six weight, nine foot rod if you have one” because with wading disallowed, and the river wide, the expected warm weather breezes would test the casting skills of most, so “heavy”.

Before lunch we neither touched a fish. So, given the suggestion that “fishing should begin at about 4”, we plumbed for a bottle of ale, and a long salad-y and meat-y, boys-y lunch, washed down by some very pleasant Cotes du Rhone (2002!), and put the business world to rights. Then, back to work.

At 4pm, I caught a fish,of nearly 4 lbs –

At 6pm, keeper Neil appeared, and suggested which flies to tie, “when it starts”…he absolutely promised.

“What you’ve got no mayflies?” he complained, but gave us both one, as well as a huge spent version, which was very kind, for his generosity to his anglers had not replenished his may box. And we fished the middle of the Moorcourt beat,and watched, excitedly, as fish began to move, and casting with Neil’s may, this proved to be ‘the fly’ as we both got fish to come up to it…and spit it out! At least mine did…because Chris caught a good brown, then generously hoped his guest might, too.

At 630pm, I caught another fish – an even bigger one, and also, the wrong species!

At 7pm and just after Chris commended the way my line unfurled, and the delicate way in which my may was presented, faultlessly, I hooked a trout, and was promptly, snapped!

The same thing happened, several times, and again at 730pm when trialing the spent may, after a few satiated (one shag and you die…who’d be an upwing?!) males began coming down.

Oh, what a day!! Too many flies lost to bushes on the back cast, but this meant another visit to Grangers this morning, just in case the Co Durham mays are as big as the Hampshire ones!!

But it was a great day. The fishing hut is a treat…

the river at Broadlands is magnificent…

the weather was glorious..Chris was a great host, and there were simply dozens of browns there, and if we had fished the day before, or a day later, perhaps…but who knows!? That’s fishing, and I loved my two chub…honestly!

WEST MIDLANDS

20 Friday Apr 2012

Posted by in West Midlands

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This tale is another example of how forums, or at least, Fly Fishing Forums, can work.

After a number of attempts at identifying a likely stream in this industrial area, I connected with thetrouttickler, who introduced me to the River Cole, because in December 2010, he was one of three local anglers who worked with the WTT, for whom Paul Gaskell conducted a Site Visit and wrote up his findings in a fascinating report which he, Justin, shared with me. It was known that the odd trout had been caught from the Cole, and Paul’s report directed me to where it was more likely that I might.  Both Justin, and his companion angler, Steve Williams offered to accompany me, which was comforting because both warned me that the river flows through a less than desirable part of the country, “The Cole can otherwise flow through some pretty built up and dodgy urban areas”….he wrote, and I should take note that in such a deprived area, Tonka, certainly would attract attention!

As, I imagine might a wadered individual….

So when I received a further email from thetrouttickler, which told me with some excitement that there might be another option, it was here, where I began to focus.

April 2012 – the Blythe

The Blythe is a lowland river in the Midlands which runs from Warwickshire, through the borough of Solihull and on to Coleshill. It runs along the Meriden Gap in the Midlands Plateau, is fed by the River Cole and is a tributary of the Tame, and it joins the Trent on its way to the North Sea at Humberside.  It is considered to be one of the cleanest rivers in England.

Running over clay, it is not a typical trout stream, and is known to hold a good head of tench, bream, rudd and barbel.

My venue was a stretch running through the land occupied by the West Midlands Golf Club, which thetrouttickler advised – “I don’t think the Blythe is a natural trout water, or the most perfect water for trout, but people do stock it…”  He continued – “The river has a coarse feel to it – slow and deep- but then there are shallower sections with riffle and gravel beds”

On arrival, I met the truly helpful, Nigel Harrhy. He advised that few fished the river. Also, that the beat upstream, leased to West Midlands Police, was stocked, as was the beat downstream, adjacent to the fabled Forest of Arden Golf Club, so why, he argued would some trout not migrate into his beat, which he does not stock. And that he could not remember trout being caught, or at least for a while! But I was there, so I had to try! And with a modestly priced day ticket, I was about to, with only similarly modest expectations, after my chat with Nigel.

The afternoon started sunny.

A walk to the bottom of the beat showed a gravelly run, and I optimistically tied on an Adams and began casting, but into a downstream wind which made presentation hard and often the fly landed my side of the fly line! But I sensed, nor saw any fish of any description, so walked upstream. Entering the water at the end of runs and casting into them I spooked a couple of fish which may have been chub, and amused some carp anglers on the adjacent Barston Lakes who told me there were no fish in the river anyway, but generously wished me “Tight lines , Mate” and went back to kneading boilies (or whatever they do!).

The weather was deteriorating a little, as I spied a likely run.

Here the river bends a little between two trees, runs over a gravel bar where it remains shallow to its left hand side, but has a hole under the roots of the stand of alder to its right hand side, and a back eddy just ahead of the same hole, where I noted a couple of little swirls. The waters shallow again down the length of the pool from whence I cast, up into the gravels where the pheasant tail nymph would sink, before tumbling along the bottom of the hole where I thought there might be a fish, or one lurking in the roots of the alder…

Only two or three casts later, a tug , a pull, a short struggle and a fish into the net…a chub of about  ¾ lb.

But still, I wondered, might there be what I am seeking in the same spot!?

So I cast a few more times, getting as close to the roots, as a growing wind would allow…until ‘Bang!’ and a take of an altogether, much more aggressive type. This chap did not fight like a brown, though, no waggling of the head, rather, and whatever it was, it torpedoed down the pool towards and past me, and headed to some roots. Leaning my rod to my left to apply a lot of side strain to keep him from the woody comfort, the 7ft, 4wt. Loomis bent alarmingly, more from my determination to get the fellow than his size, and when he came to the surface, I smiled a rainbow smile, as I realised I had another ‘county’ and a fish of about 2lbs.

Two more fish, small dace, and the weather which was ‘threatening’ all afternoon, finally collapsed, and the rains returned, for which I was pleased. Eight to go, and Tonka, intact!

Essex

09 Friday Mar 2012

Posted by in Essex

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Essex must be one of our flattest counties, so the chances of finding fast flowing, clear water holding trout must be slim.

My searches have been considerable, though, and various websites suggest that there may be trout in the Chelmer, and possibly in the Blackwater, and certainly in the upper reaches of the Cam near Saffron Waldon, where the Audley End Flyfishers have some water, but as you know the Cam has already featured in my ’journey’ and I would like to find a stream which is entirely in the County, if possible.

And then I discovered that the Billericay & District AC, a notable coarse fishing club, has beats on the Roding, the Stour, the Wid, and interestingly, the River Pant.  This stream rises on the edge of Debden Airfield in North West Essex, and flows toward Braintree, where its name changes to the River Blackwater. Andy Thomas of the WTT had already suggested that the headwaters of the Blackwater may have some trout, and so I guessed that the Pant is where he was suggesting.

The BDAC website claims that the Pant near Shalford does hold trout, so I thought I should join, and try to find out!

Well it’s a pretty stream and my first visit was in mid-Summer, for being predominantly a coarse fishing river, the riparian owners acknowledge the season as being from June to March, and by that time, the over growth was considerable on steep banks, and access to the water was limited, but fish were moving, although these turned out to be chub and dace.

My first and second visits were fruitless, so I wrote to Fishery Officer, Clive Gliddon, whose response has convinced me that persistence is necessary, and so I shall…persist!

Dear Tony.
With regards to your txt re Trout in the River Pant.
I personally have caught trout from the start of our stretch at Shalford Bridge downstream to our boundrary at Codham Mill.  All my catches were caught fishing for Chub, using maggots.
The trout are still there, as we have one angler who regularly fishes the river and catches.
I have seem Trout in the river as far upstream as Great Bardfield (my own village) Sizewise, my catches were small around 8 ozs etc , but I have heard of 1 Rainbow taken of just over 3lbs.
It appears the Trout got into the river from an old hatchery at Codham Mill

which closed many years back.
I hope this answers your question.
Kind regards
Clive Gliddon

CORNWALL

27 Thursday Oct 2011

Posted by in Cornwall

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A request for advice on Fly Fishing Forum, elicited the following warning from ‘Marazion Midge’, a serial forum Poster  –

“You’re quite welcome to come to Cornwall but please don’t count us as an English county. Good luck on your quest”

A double edged sword, if ever there was!

Now, for personal reasons, Cornwall (Kernow) is not my favourite county, but the fact is, that it is on the map of the UK, and is filled with trout, and I wondered whether it might just offer an end of season ‘bonus’ county, so I plotted. This was guerrilla, snatch tactics….in…out…and with the prize I sought but without being seen!

Wkipedia reveals there are thirty rivers in Cornwall, with most offering salmonids. Wishing only to make the smallest of incursions into this large county, it was obvious that this was possible with just the tiniest diversion off the A30, and only a few miles from the Devon border. I knew that the Arundell Arms  offered water on the Ottery, and arranged an overnight stay to use this loveliest of fishing hotels for my base. [see ‘Musings 10.1]

Searches showed that the Launceston Angling Association has water for which, Secretary, Colin Hookway, informed me, day tickets could be obtained from the Post Office in the tiny village of Lewannick. “And in any case, the parking in Lewannick is easier” he maintained. So I had options which excited, as I set off on the 225 mile trek, quite early, in Tonka Too.

A pit stop or two, but still a leisurely ride on a sunny late September, and my spirits were high, and the parking in Lewannick was only complicated by the narrow main street where everyone smiles! And a day ticket costs less than the Congestion Charge from TfL… to fish

September 2011- the Inny

Armed with a helpful map I was off to find the river. Now perhaps I went the wrong way, but I spent the next ten minutes hoping to God, that I would not encounter any vehicle coming the other way along the narrowest of lanes/tracks, whose bank side foliage neatly brushed off most of the recent mud which had accumulated along the flanks of Tonka. This lane was created for small horse drawn carts and farm beasts of the distant past and long before the petrol motor was invented, and is now a dog walkers’ paradise. But all this just increased the sense of adventure which accompanies such endeavours as my ‘quest’ and I found myself smiling, just like the locals!

I found the old grey stone bridge at Trekelland which separates the Associations beats 10 and 11,

and pulled over onto the verge, wondering why drivers had driven so fast across an ancient bridge to collide with it and cause so much damage, carefully restored by the good folk of Cornwall’s highways department.  Shame…what is the hurry, and in Cornwall of all places?

There are several miles of water on these beats, so which, and my choice was to set off downstream on the lower beat and fish back to the car, and then, maybe onwards and upwards. The meadows are lush and the cattle are lucky, and the pats were covered by those orange dung flies, which seem not to feature on trout’ diet? Any peering into the shallows and runs on my stroll had to be over the miles of barbed wire which kept the cattle away from the four foot drop into the drinking water they probably lusted for.  And of course the same barbed wire required some pretty gymnastic approach work from your author to get wading…but this was no problem!?

The water had a tint to it, after rains of a day or so past, but this is a good thing for anglers, and the wind, light as it was, was upstream, so if the dry was to be tied…! The trees lining the river all the way down,  provided a canopy which offered the careful cast, opportunity, but the careless one, a tangle.

I passed one stretch of some one hundred yards of tempting water, which registered,

and kept walking. Hang on! Looking back over my shoulder I saw what looked like a rise, and kept walking. Are you mad, I thought? Those are Cornish trout and I had just driven a long way to catch one, so, retracing, I was into the glide. And there were a couple of casts of the careless variety, before Mr Adams rose a fish which was too quick for me, as were the second and third, just like their tiny Devonian neighbours in the Dart system, but before too long…and the first was a silvery fellow with black spots,

followed by two more, in more traditional livery of buttery yellow flanks, and red and darker spots. The elk hair caddis featured, too, when sedges started skitting across the surface of water no more than two feet deep along that productive run.

One taken on the caddis filled me with gratitude, for what our past time can offer in very special moments. On the water there was just the slightest movement and a modest and the gentlest of sips, as he sucked in my #18. This was no ‘take’ of May violence, and with my, lifting equally gently, there he was, hooked…a magical moment in the tranquillity of the Cornish sunshine, and the fish was returned to grow on. So calm, so perfect, so complete, so ‘fishing’…I think it was instinct which prompted me to lift my rod. A rare moment of fishing ‘perfection’.

Perhaps, I should rethink my perspective on Kernow!

I wandered happily downstream,

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

observing what I imagined are sea trout lies, and just stopped and cast into trouty lies. Returning, I has a few casts into where I had began, but with no luck this time, but did not care! At several more likely places I clambered into the waters and was rewarded, and on returning to Trekelland Bridge,

realised that some seven fish had come to my net, more than justifying my 225 mile ‘indulgence’. I was happy. And so to the Arundell  Arms.

The hotel is for anglers. The public rooms are filled with memorabilia. The corridors, too, along with a notice board informing which beats are for which visitors, and their catches, thereafter. The real attraction (apart from a spectacular menu of fresh, seasonal and local foods) is the sparsely merchandised, but historically impressive, ‘Cock Pit’, where I bumped into, Instructor, Tim Smith. I had telephoned him some weeks before, to enquire about availability of the Ottery beats, and he remembered speaking to the man ‘collecting counties’. There followed a truly enlightening conversation about the end of season fishing on his waters, the rise and the flies still hatching, and the influences on the Tamar catchment. And….on relating my afternoon fun to him, he quickly realised that my silvered spottie was a juvenile sea trout. Fantastic…!

Now, in truth, fishing the Inny was a bit of a punt, for I thought that the hotel’s beat at Hellescott Bridge might produce what I sought.

And the next day, it did, eventually  (one brown and two grayling)…but my enduring memory of the Inny, will remain, just that…Funny how the unexpected can be so rewarding, and the expected, sometimes, disappointing. But that’s life.

What a wonderful season I have had.

GREATER MANCHESTER

11 Tuesday Oct 2011

Posted by in Greater Manchester

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Never thinking that the industrialised Greater Manchester could ever hold river trout, the revelation that one river did, en route to forming the Mersey, was thanks to the WTT’s Autumn 2010 Newsletter (see page 13).  Exchanges with Amanda Wilson, Hon. Sec. of the Disley & New Mills AC, revealed that my goal might be achieved by joining this 100 year old club, which I did!

Success in Nottinghamshire the day before buoyed me for this season end surge, and after overnighting in the very comfortable Pack Horse Inn in High Peak, and after a delicious breakfast of local bacon and sausage, it was off to the river.

Today I was flying solo, and, guideless, and  I overshot the mark, and found myself close to the Roman Lakes, and whilst the runs below the ancient (actually, seventeenth century) bridge were tempting, it was not only the steep descent to the river which was deterring, but the notion that I would be trespassing (aka poaching ) and a further study suggested that I was a mile or two downstream of where I should have been. So retracing my steps, it took only a short drive to put me where the DNMAC water was.

August 2011 – the Goyt

The Goyt tumbles off the Pennines, touching bits of Derbyshire and Cheshire, and collecting various tributary waters before it arrives at New Mills. A mile downstream and at the village of Strines, it enters the County of Greater Manchester.

It is latterly joined by the River Etherow, and then by the River Tame in central Stockport, where after a relatively short life, it is transformed into the River Mersey! Had many today, heard of the Mersey before Gerry Marsden immortalised it in song?

Strines is a very up-market suburb of Stockport/Manchester…maybe Gerry lives there on his royalties! It is very grand and has a trout stream below its manicured lawns, but it is difficult to access. My walk into and out of, an enfenced development of new houses,  sent me eventually past a decrepit tennis club, which saddened. A pavilion which I imagine could tell a tale or two, overlooking grass courts which have dislevelled through lack of attention, and four hard courts with so many weeds peering through the aging tarmac, that the whole area resembled a post holocaust event. Maybe Hitchcock designed it…

The river at that point is well below the fields adjoining it. But, I had perfected the technique for reaching it, after a season of fishing high banked and often, secluded and narrow streams, strewn with overgrowth.

1  Put the rod, which must be protected at all costs, within reach of an upward ultimate retrieve

2  Look riverward, and standing just above the chosen descent route, drop down in athletic surprise  and bend the knees more than you thought you could, then rock backwards and fall slowly and gently onto the buttocks..then, and with no discernible ceasing in the total motion, rock forwards, and legs outstretched, lean outwards and slide down the green sward on said buttocks…hoping that, either, the rocks below, are stable enough to absorb the impact of the aging weighty frame, or, the water is shallow enough not to drown in.

[The pressure on the wader seams is considerable, and repeated performance of this manoeuvre confirms the benefit of having a tube of Aquaseal to hand, and it dries quite quickly, too]

3 Then, look up and back and retrieve said rod, and commence fishing…

Easy!  But, only God knows how the older members of DNMAC manage this challenge! It’s a twelve foot drop into their river!

On the Goyt, to begin with the water colour confused me. The peaty brown flows at this point were so concentrated, that they belied what was quite shallow water. So my NZ rig, snagged often. No matter, because when the first rise showed, it was onto the dry.

IT IS IMPORTANT I MAKE A SIGNIFICANT DECLARATION AT THIS POINT.

IT IS OFFICIAL…I have too many flies in my box(es), and THE ONLY DRY FLY I NEED IS THE WONDERFUL  ‘ADAMS’…it is ubiquity, personified, and I love it. I guess we all default to a fly with which we fish with confidence, and whilst I wish my entymology was better honed, I still rate this fly enormously.

And whilst casting into the long flat pools required care, the fish were feeding and cared little about the odd splash of a cast where my right arm came down too fast and  low, and missing several serious plunges onto my fly, I nevertheless and quickly, netted a couple of 12” fish,


and Greater Manchester, at the same time.

It’s good stretch, this DNMAC beat. The quiet is disturbed only by the trundling of the odd goods train in the nearby viaduct, and it is a pretty, very pretty water. Access was hard, so was my exit…

I may have had to employ some ancient and forgotten gymnastics in finding my way back to Tonka Too, and I will strenuously reject any charge that I committed trespass in doing so…!!

I caught four fish that morning, and decided that an afternoon fish was in order, so after a picnic lunch at several hundred feet overlooking High Peak and in full and distant view of  the Pennine heather in all its pink and breathtaking glory, I set off to find the DNMAC’s beats on the River Sett (in Derbyshire).

Upstream of Watford Bridge near Thornsett,

three more fish came to the incomparable, dry ‘you know what’ on this narrow and intimate stream, and just made my day.

And I hope to meet the little blighters I missed, in a year or two!

The riverside here is un-strimmed  and not pristine, like  Southern chalk stream banks,  and  Himalayan balsam is alive and well. It grows to seven feet and more! At this time of year, it snaps as you flick it out of your path, in jungle warfare, seeking out another likely lie beyond its screen, and in doing do, you know you have done its prosperity, a favour, as its seeds are propelled to settle and land to germinate next year and occupy even more space and kill off (murder?) what we would rather see…Damn!

I think I even prefer nettles. At least they are ours!

The DNMAC handbook declares that fish in its waters are ’unfit for human consumption’. I do not doubt this assertion, but I observe that the Club has done much to improve its habitat ( see – http://dnmacgoyt.blogspot.com/ )and that  water quality today  is immeasurably better than when, and whilst the disgorgement of even recent times may have been unhealthy, this river system is in ‘great nick’ today. I had a thoroughly, great day, on a super fishery.

SOMERSET

24 Saturday Sep 2011

Posted by in Somerset

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Back in the nineties, I kept a hand written diary of some of my exploits, in a leather bound book, specially made for me by a Cambridge printer, who cut out alternative pages, so that the book could contain photographs within its total width. The printer is J S Wilson & Son (Bookbinders) Ltd, and the idea came from an article in Trout & Salmon.

Now to which Grandchild do I bequeath this work to? Any minute now, I will have my sixth!!

I decided to copy into this page, what I wrote in September 1997, but sadly my photographs then, were not digitalised, so you will have imagine what a pretty place I fished on Exmoor, and the little beauties I eked out of  –

September 1997 – the Barle

“The Tarr Steps Hotel nestles in a deep valley in the middle of Exmoor, and was to be the location for a weekender with friends from Connecticut, which would guarantee it to be a very ‘liquid’ weekend, as indeed it was!

The Friday evening journey out of London (M’s 4 and 5) seemed endless, but the eventual welcome by the hotel team, and after  negotiating the steepest, narrowest, access lane in the dark and moonless light, clearly designed to keep out non-fishers, was genuine.  Dinner and  sleep, and then up to fish before breakfast, produced  two small wild browns on an Adams, and in the short fast run, just above the Steps. (This would not have been possible after the arrival of the car loads of Grockles, later in the morning)

Leaving the hotel after a late breakfast, for some sightseeing and shopping, mid morning, it was an amazing surprise to see, on our return, that the top of a tree stump by the driveway, when we left for Barnstable, had been transformed by the talent of a local chainsaw artist, into a carving of a beautiful pheasant…

The fishing in the late afternoon was super. I took seven fish on Adams and various sedge patterns, by wandering up from the bottom of the hotel beat, and casting mainly, into quicker water. But, in doing so, I not only lost my favourite polaroids, but also slid into waist deep water, reminding me of the need for caution and respect when wading!

Sunday morning was spent wandering upstream from the Steps to Altar Rock. Only two fish, again on the Adams (para version….it’s the only way my fading eyes can see them!). But I did see a salmon resting in Hinds Pit.

The walkers, and there were plenty of them, did not distract, and the second fish was a fighting 8”-er. Eleven, in all  this visit”

Post script –

Sadly, the hotel  is no more. It was bought and converted into a lovely family home. But the Barle is still there….

SUFFOLK

08 Thursday Sep 2011

Posted by in Suffolk

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Suffolk, my nemesis, PJ !

…’le mien’?

…mais non, Mon Brave Pecheur…lu dessus…

And it is all down to John (Anderson), and his enthusiasm for my mission, and his fulfilment of a promise made after a blank in May.

That day was  an unbelievably hot (as we now know only May was) and bright day, and with weed and reed growth, already  massive, we guessed that the trout on the Lark at Icklingham which the cormorants had disregarded, were probably hiding in the stem and root stock well away from my enticing casts. We saw no rise, nor swirl, nor ‘nothing’ that morning to John’s needless embarrassment. But his company through the morning and a delicious lunch at the Red Lion (well worth a visit…several local ales, and great food) and our endless chat, seemed enough to motivate this retired GP and fisher, to guide me again, knowing that trout streams in Suffolk are scarce.

After two more ciabbattas, and some cleansing ale, we were back on his stream…”I have a plan”, he revealed. And this time we headed downstream to below the weir, where it is very wade-able. His plan involved the PTN, and my set up included a weighted #20 (from Five Rivers Lodge), tied below a bushy caddis pattern with a pink-ish parachute…OK, a float, if you must…and it did feel as though I was trotting (!).

The wind coming off my right hand side was harsh and several casts needed retrieving from the fronds nearby…but just below the concrete weir and where the river had widened to produce a back eddy,

where John had once caught a small pike, one of the few casts which I put below the alder overhanging it, saw the floater dip, and a lift and resistance which became serious, meant I had a ‘fish on’….was it a chub, I worried? It planed (‘kited’ , if you listen to John Wilson) across the weir, pulling very hard and in that erratic style which singles out our preferred species. As it neared, its colours still confused me, but with John leaning to give me his long handled net , I saw SPOTS…and knew! Caution,  caution, caution…this is Suffolk’s only trout stream…and when he was netted, I am not sure whether John’s pride in helping, or mine in achieving (is that the right word?), dominated, but we were both very pleased.

He took the trailing nymph, and the colouration of this fish was unusual…almost orange when he came out of the water. He was  a stocked fish weighing in at just over 2lbs, so had probably been in the river three years.  It took a while to revive the fellow. He fought hard, as such a fish should. But revived, he returned to his eddied lie.

Afterwards we wandered upstream, me casting into the runs, optimistically,  where I missed out before, and did again!

John’s is a lovely fishery…”but dour”, he acknowledged!  But  why?

The water is clear, flowing quickly through lush streaming weed, in which I am sure nymphal life is prolific, even though on this day we saw little fly life (and not a single rise). There were minnows, galore, but few trout. But we saw several  of the species ‘corvus marinus’  and ‘pacifastacus lenusculus’….that’s cormorant, and American signal crayfish, to you and me. Of the latter, I saw dozens, and more than on any other stream I have fished, at the top end of our beat.

The work of the WTT manages stream and flow…and delivers spawning areas….protection of fish stocks is whose responsibility? The  EA?

We must all work together for the long term.

NOTTINGHAMSHIRE

06 Tuesday Sep 2011

Posted by in Nottinghamshire

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Nottinghamshire was always going to be a problem and this required ingenuity. Who did I know, or who did I know who knew someone who might? Where could I seek information which might lead to where…because the ‘Where to’s ’… seemed  unable to.

Julian (Atkins) had a pal who might know…and Tim Jacklin (WTT) offered some really helpful thoughts, but it was a speculative plea on Fly Fishing Forums, which produced a response from, one, Chris Hawkins, who is one interesting young man.  So some words about him, first.


He is a local lad who left school and started a mechanical engineering course which did not excite him. So eager and ambitious, he set about obtaining some ‘A’ Levels, which he did, in order to secure a place at (Aberystwyth) University where he studied environmental sciences, but to what end? Well, already a keen fisher, and also one with a strong conscience, he chose to enter the charity sector, and parlayed his love for fishing in particular, the outdoors in general, and utilise his generous spirit, to try to help vulnerable youngsters by offering some insights into something/anything, or in his case, fishing, so that new learnings might give them an improved sense of worth.

His own fishing journey is evolving  as he moves from coarse to game, excited by the hunting aspects and the artistry, too, and today, he  is generally at the still water stage, but he is now learning river craft , and I hope some of my experience was helpful to him. But, it was his inquisitiveness and eagerness to learn about this new fishing which led to him, finding me, as he used the Forums to learn for himself! He is a special chap.

He  gave me some time during a rare holiday week, and my SatNav got me to the very car park where he wanted to meet in the pretty town of Warsop.

August 2011 – the Meden

We strolled his stream for sometime, he pointing out potential runs on a weedy water where the chub could be seen waiting, but it was only after clambering over fences and wading cross stream, avoiding some outsize cows,  that he excitedly told me we had arrived where I might succeed. And a rising fish excited me, too, but a snagged weighted nymph trailing a dry probably saw him off, from what turned out to be just six inches of water, anyway.

There was just a little fly life (olives and caddis) on this overcast and windy day.

And , not too much farther upstream, I spotted a run which, after just two casts, delivered a Nottinghamshire trout which Chris netted in his outsize net  – “to be sure”! – and on a dry, and on my reliable Adams, the onsurface equivalent of the subsurface ‘hare’s ear’!

His is a small stream.  It is narrow but laden with features, and more than enough variety to engage. Gravelly bottomed, but protected in parts by steep banks, and many a leaning bush and tree to snag poor casts, and at this time of year, there is plenty of overgrowth tumbling into the water to give much needed security. Council owned water abutting an old quarry, and part leased for grazing, this is not a tended stretch. Public space therefore, it was noticeable that strollers and dog walkers, this day, respected our need for stealth, for the trout were all wild, and we saw plenty…in escape!

The upper beat, through farmland, is shared with young lads bottom fishing ‘au maggot’, and  I learned just what specimens this stream holds. One, asked – “Is that a fly rod, Mister?” and the other, his pal, shared proudly, with me, two pictures saved on his mobile of brownies he had caught at the very spot under an old brick rail bridge where they were fishing, which put my solitary 8” tiddler to shame! It also shared with perch, and at one spot, it was lovely to stand and watch a family of them swim fearlessly between my wadered legs!

WEST YORKSHIRE

22 Monday Aug 2011

Posted by in West Yorkshire

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A founder member of the Wild Trout Society, I remain a devotee in its, now,  more tax efficient charitable status as the Wild Trout Trust, and bid for several lots in this year’s auction.

Securing Lot # 171 in March,  I  welcomed the opportunity to fish with Paul Gaskell,

of whom more later, in June, because this might have enabled me to fish and ’net’ South Yorkshire. But before this means was even a possible, I was already there, as My Readers will know! [see  April 2011]

But a note to Paul enquiring whether I could parlay his guiding in the South Riding, to some time in West Yorkshire, produced a positive response for which I was grateful, and entirely, it seemed, within the spirit of how we fly fishers behave.

Paul is one the small full time team of five (now, six) which does the work of which we are all proud, and testified to, by the enormous sum which was generated from members in this year’s Auction, and was of the order of £50000. He, is a passionate outdoorsman and intellect, and the WTT, and therefore, we too as members , are lucky to have him. A PhD, and father to a handsome young son with his PhD-ed partner , he/they (and their energetic greyhound!) live a lovely life together, and I wish them happiness…he is great company, and our chatting during the  ride to Huddersfield was illuminated by his love for his work and his care for the environment. Some conversations of this type can veer toward the negative, the concern voiced in dire terms…but his tone was positive, but realistic, and constructive…he is a ‘builder’, and  I was energised by his enthusiasm.

The WTT Newsletters chronicle the activities it conducts….if you are not a member, please JOIN…and you will find there is fishing to be found which remains ‘free’, and of this, much is in urban areas, where programmes have been devised to seek to improve the water quality by the removal of detritus,

and more, to encourage the next generation, to understanding the value and vitality of our streams. The early work of the Wandle Trust is to some, an example of what can be achieved. And it is working, and the WTT’s ‘Trout in the Town’ shows just how well, but so much more has to be done. But without wishing to sound negative, no one, reading of the joy of finding trout fry in Carshalton earlier this year, cannot have felt pride for the efforts of Theo Pike and Will Tall, and their group. And all of they who are so committed to such programmes, share their learnings and give of their time, as does Paul…but it’s tough. Just how many tyres and supermarket trolleys are there subsurface in trout waters? Far too many is the answer, and we saw them this day on our first river –

August 2011 – the Colne, then the Holme.

My ‘quest’ has taken me to lovely places. I have discovered that wild trout can be found throughout England. Many of my days have been spent in tiny rural streams, and there are more trout in these, because there are more of them, than in the rivers which are written up in the fishing press, which one imagines are because these are more easily accessed. Overlooked, are the streams which flow through busy places.

And I understand this. We fishers enjoy solitude, for all the benefits which counterbalance our busy lives. So who wants to fish in sight of a bus garage, anyway?  [see Greater London!] But…and this closes the loop, so to speak, as to why the WTT focuses its education programmes in towns where it can, hopefully, influence more effectively, at least as far as numbers are concerned.

Whatever my first thoughts about the river flowing through Huddersfield were, after observing the obligatory traffic cone or two, I was thrilled to see the spreading rings of rising fish. And in the heat of an August afternoon, and in its brightness, I knew with Paul’s thoughtful guiding, it should be possible to net another county. And if my first fish, caught on his rod, rigged with two weighted nymphs, cast to run along a fast run only a couple of feet deep, produced snags and misses then a grayling, I registered the key point about the grayling need for good water!

 

 

 

 

 

 

So whilst traffic cones are artistically disgusting in trout streams, presumably they are not contaminants! A wade back to the town bridge, under which we had seen a golloping rise earlier, produced, after just two casts, a lovely trout of ten ounces or so, to a CdC olive.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Forget the ‘county’, or rather my ‘netting’ of another…this trout was a tribute to cleanliness, and to the efforts of all those who believe in restoration of our wonderful waters. And especially to Beth Allcock and her team at Greenstreams who have achieved so much in improving the Huddersfield rivers.

We walked upstream awhile, and cast into a tributary of the Colne, almost alliteratively named, the Holme

and, together, caught half a dozen or so wild trout, and right up to Bridge Street, and even if the felt sole of my left wading boot did fall off, (and all credit and thanks to Orvis for replacing them very quickly!)my memories of a lovely afternoon with Paul, live on. For me four trout from urban streams…all of them on dry fly. The rather pale worm on a hook at the end of a static line tied to a stick wedged between rocks sometime ago, opposite an old mill…just reminded me…I am not sure, of what. But this is an urban stream!

WARWICKSHIRE

20 Wednesday Jul 2011

Posted by in Warwickshire

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This was initiated via a web search in the New Year (plotting season!) and I found Warwickshire Flyfishers who in addition to five still waters, offered one stream. An email to the Secretary, yielded this response from Chris Skuse –

“Having discussed with members of the committee the opinion is that yes you can fish the river if you buy a guest ticket at £15 and are accompanied”

…a ‘no-brainer’! And I was soon to fish   –

June 2011 – the Swift

 A couple of calls to Bailiff, John Burton,

and arrangements were fixed.

Warwickshire….cars, football, industry, Coventry, motorways, Shakespear, the Belfry…a bit of a mixed bag.  John asked me how I liked to fish?  “ For a couple of hours, then maybe a pub snack, and then a couple more” I responded. “There are no pubs where we are going” was his concerning reply! To the countryside is where we went, even if the river ran under and alongside the A5 trunk road, but just for a little while.

Diving off the main road, and through a padlocked gate reminded me of accessing Fortress Trossley, in Kent, where I spent many a happy hour in the late nineties and early noughties with Fraser and Pick. And the river is a typical lowland stream, running over clay, and with a just little colour, and low, as all waters have been this season.

John determined that our best plan was to walk to the bottom of the beat, at least to where this most diligent of membership had done the most improvement work, and whilst we chatted and he imparted much of what has and is being achieved, he had continually to drag an inquisitive me back from the waterside so we could complete our 45 minute walk.

John’s is a narrow river, and even narrower in those places where reeds have still to be cleared,

but elsewhere, a continuum of bends and pools, and enticing lies under overhanging bushes, interspersed by riffles caused by the introduction of many, many deflectors, and the odd etched pool below where rocks have been placed to create mini weirs. There are places where clearance makes casting easier, and many where, and always above and behind where one saw a fish rise, that the nettles are dense, and I will have to make another visit to Farlows, or Orvis, or Grangers, to replenish my stock of Adams and Klinkhamers, as well as my 6x tippet material.

It was passing such a mini weir that I was convinced my first trout would be taken, but it was not, and nor was it below the second. I noted that John has developed a style of fishing which clearly works for him on this river….more of a stalker hunter approach,

crawling and hunching down to approach the bankside where he favoured to run a dry down as close to the overgrowth as possible to tempt trout out and from under those roots and grasses….and did, and missed, frustratingly. But also, did!

Mine was a more conventional approach, seeking fish from familiar lies in the safety of rippled waters alongside feed lanes, and cast with a longer line than John’s Dart like flicks.

We happily leapfrogged each other, and my first came to a parachute Adams where I thought one might be lying in quick water, above the site of an ancient mill.

And then so did a second, along a stretch which John described as unfishable a year ago, but with considerable clearance work is now, and members have been rewarded, for along its one hundred yards or so, more fish have been caught there this year than elsewhere on the water. And it was the only stretch where fish rose constantly, and we both hooked and missed a couple.

I learned that only a few years ago, the club was close to going under when falling membership reduced subscription income to a total, barely higher than rents payable; and that a growing interest in the Midlands for conservation, is credited with rebuilding numbers. Maybe ‘word’ of what is being undertaken by this noble band is getting about…I hope so! Conservation and preservation of what is so special to us, must not be limited to the eforts of the few…the countryside, and all that is stands for and provides, is unique. HRH The Prince of Wales thinks so, too…we must all support his vision.

Back to the fishing!….I watched John teasing chub with a sinking nymph; and he was impressed to see my third come to another trout which was lurking where I knew one might, below a stony outcrop; and then, ‘piece de resistance’ he hailed me to reveal another fish caught on a weighted nymph…a twelve inch pike, which was quite rightly, dispatched!!

Many thanks, John, and thank you to, Warwickshire Flyfishers for indulging me.

Now….John knows and loves his water, and I must share his recent note to me which testifies how effort and result blend so beautifully. I hope you agree  –

“On the Friday after your visit I landed 7 trout and on the Saturday 11. On both    occasions it was at the end of the day. They mostly came from the tightest lies and narrowest channels so it was a real challenge. Until this Monday I had only taken fish from this year’s stocking, but at the top end of our beat I landed a trout of one and a half pounds. I have just ordered 20 tonnes of gravel for enhancing one of the sections, which will, hopefully, encourage some trout breeding in the Autumn. It would be an absolute delight to hear that a member had landed a young trout next year. We have tried the egg boxes and provided a number of gravel beds, but we have yet to see any results. The stockist believes it will be hard because of the large number of chub and perch which love fry. We live in hope.”