Author Archives: Tony Mair

NORTHAMPTONSHIRE

02 Saturday Jul 2011

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There is only one trout stream in Northamptonshire.  I am happy to share its history which, Secretary, Mike Palmer suffixes his emails with –

“The Willow Brook starts life in the industrial estates of Corby, Northamptonshire, and runs for about 15 miles until it enters the River Nene at Elton. Historically there has been heavy metal pollution from steel production until Corby steelworks closed in 1980. The steelworks took water from Eyebrook Reservoir for cooling and conveniently discharged it into the Willow Brook.

The first record of stocking with trout was in 1954 when Peter Tombleson, Editor of the Angling Times, stocked a short length near to his home at Woodnewton. Four years later The Willow Brook Flyfishers was formed and 3 ½ miles of river was stocked annually. This continued for the next 46 years until 2004 when an Advisory Visit from the Wild Trout Trust started changes in management which are ongoing. We have introduced a hatchery box, installed flow deflectors, cleaned gravel beds and ceased stocking in half of the water.”

Whilst the Willow Brook Flyfishers is a small club of just 30 members,

their generosity stretches to offering a two rod visit to their water in the WTT Annual Auction, and having missed out in 2010, I was determined not to, this year, and thanks to the wizardry of e-sniper, did not!

[Forgive me for recommending the IT way of winning bids via on-line auctions, for as I see it, whilst bids may rise higher than some would consider reasonable, there will always be two winners, which is rare….and by the way, the WTT is making a big difference in my view]

Mike ‘hosted’ my visit thoughtfully, suggesting that we walked parts of the beats in the late afternoon, prior to an evening fish, and after supper in The White Swan…and a good pint of local ale! But first things first.

A short drive to the most beautiful village of Fotheringhay, in the grounds of which Abbey, Mary, Queen of Scots was executed in 1587 on the orders of Queen Elizabeth 1…and my first sighting of this pretty brook. Clear, limestone, narrow, waving weeds, overhanging trees…the odd dart of a disturbed juvenile, spied between high nettles and dying cow parsley and grasses on the set aside of a farmer with whom the club has a symbiotic relationship!

And   Chub…some of the biggest I have seen were cruising quietly, while around them, busy dace were sipping off the surface. We walked three parts of the water, and Mike shared his knowledge of his water and I sipped on this as busily as the dace I was not interested in!

I picked up a ridiculously obvious tip from him…look in the spider webs to see what is hatching…how long have I been fishing? My sense is that Mike defaults to nature and rejects the current nonsense that fly pattern is unimportant, and secondary to precise presentation of whatever takes your fancy! He is mainly, like me, a dry fly fisher.

So supper with Mike and Ian Canadine, was followed by an evening fish, which for me, wading upstream from the bridge below Martins Farm produced five uninvited dace onto my carefully presented elk hair caddis, and a growing sense of frustration when I never thought any of the rises I cast to, were to the spotties  I sought, that produced these slippery, silvered, delicately rouged finned, little ‘coarse’ devils.  And a quick drenching rain shower improved nothing, nor did the winds nor the fading light in which I had to rework my leader, spoiled by too long back casts into the enticing grasses behind and beside me,

nor did the returning Ian, who had a 3lb chub AND a 10” wild brown on a black klinkhammer…maybe Northamptonshire was not ready for me?

The highlight of my evening was an excited Mike, who, seeing fish moving in riffles somewhere below the Farm bridge, with spent olives afloat, caught a ‘small’ brown…..and then….the largest brown he has taken in all his years on his water. He was justifiably excited. A fish of more than 18”, weighing in, at close on 3lbs, and taken on a Sherry Spinner. He was beside himself…who would not have been? And a celebratory pint at the White Swan (albeit rather late) seemed reasonable, as I considered ’tomorrow’!

‘Tomorrow’

It was dry, sunny and only a little windy, and in those conditions, Mike had suggested that I worked the bottom of the water on the Nassington Road stretch, where for the right handed caster, the trees offered some protection from the westerly winds. A walk some quarter of a mile and I was into the water and hopeful. I saw some lovely chub, and some frisky shoals of dace, and at least two small trout which saw me long before my first cast to them.

Wading varied from 6” over gravel, to waist deep on the edge of bends where fallen trees had scoured out silt edged deeps, and care was essential. Bravery was important because the options were limited, and even within a six foot breadth, it was either  a nettle attack escape, or a watery, over the top of the waders soaking….all fishers know what I mean. But in such small waters, this is always  a surprise, and in particular, when seconds before you were treading on wet ranunculus, and wondering where the fish were!?

Any way…I caught nor rose a single brown. But added to my catch of the now, dreaded, dace! And saw more Chub (there were some serious specimens below the bridge here), and began to wonder if it was not to be!

So I drove back to Woodnewton, and began to cast into the interesting runs and deeps there, and it started to rain…hard…and even hiding under leafy fronds could not stop me from a right soaking. But when, eventually the clouds passed (for twice I ventured, prematurely, from my hideaway, and twice more a soaking!) I walked down to where, on the previous evening’s tutorial, Mike showed me where his team had manhandled one hundred tons of gravel to create new flows and breeding grounds. These were not pebbles, but stones and the work effort that must have been needed to create this stretch was massive. Wading to it, I noted the swirl of a fish in shallows at the top of the bar, that did not look chub-like! Tail fin out of the water, was it raising caddis from the stones, perhaps? To the outside of the gravelly mound, revealed by low water, in the faster run under the left bank, two fish scattered upstream when they saw me. And there’s was not chub like flight. But there was movement and some feeding no more than a decent 15 foot cast away…probably not the frightened, and my second cast, with a yellow klinkhammer at the serious end produced a ferocious take, and an excited prospector, knowing he was in danger of achieving what he came to achieve, netted a 14” Northamptonshire fish, when the same prospector thought that a ‘blank’ was most likely.

The rain was followed by bright sunlight, and this must have had the awakening effect on the river that a shower can…31 now!

I am immensely grateful to Mike, who as a result of our fishy conversations, and who, in admiring my lovely Moreno rod, must have realised my interest in such aspects, thought to write to me with information on where to buy the silk lines and furled leaders he uses, which I now will do. Will these help me catch more fish…probably!  And even if I don’t, my pleasure in using materials which our forebears used, will connect me with our influences.

Thank you, Mike

…thank you Willow Brook Flyfishers, and cheers to the WTT.

And….a thank you to Judy and Rod, for a very comfortable overnighter at the lovely Bridge Cottage

BERKSHIRE

25 Saturday Jun 2011

Posted by in Berkshire

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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 barbel 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

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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?

NORTH YORKSHIRE

28 Saturday May 2011

Posted by in North Yorkshire

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I have fished, successfully, the Wharfe and the Laver, and sometime before 2008, and unsuccessfully, the Lidd and the Swale, but I had written nothing about these visits, so felt I had to take on the challenge of North Yorkshire again. And in communicating and launching my blog on FlyForums  to fellow anglers, I was delighted to receive a response from the ‘nom de plume’ Grayson, who wrote – “What a lovely prospect- if you need any Yorkshire venues do email me- would be happy to offer you a day or two on some very good and very private river”. There followed an exchange, off Blog, and Grayson turned out to be, one John Aston,

and his notes promised – “I can offer you a day on the Rye.End of May is good – will need to be mid week as in mayfly time weekends are guest free. Very pretty- upper river throungh wooded valleys . lower is gentler but with ranunculus and very big wild fish. Upper river fish are smaller but more numerous and run to 1-8 +; lower river  browns are often 3+”

On the appointed day I left my hotel near Northallerton and drove to Helmsley via the lovely market town of Thirsk. [Note – does any other County have as many race courses as Yorkshire – Redcar, Ripon, York, Beverly, Wetherby, Thirsk, plus, plus…?], and then onto the North Yorkshire Moors National Park via Sutton Bank up a 25% incline, the A170, where advisories told all motorists and all drivers, not once, but many times via ugly illuminated digital signs which would not be out of place in Las Vegas, that 132 blockages have occurred in the past year, involving HGVs unable to cope with the steep slope, even presumably in lowest gear, in which state it was recommended that all vehicles were driven…all of which seems to me, to beg a rather obvious question of the Yorkshire Constabulary, n’est-ce pas, Mon Brave?  Notwithstanding all this, the views from near the top were truly splendid, and once prompted Wordsworth to proclaim them, “the best in England”

On driving into Helmsley, I was concerned to note the low level of the water in the river below the town bridge, easily viewed from my elevated seat in Tonka Too. And I met up with John who explained that flowing over limestone, his river disappeared into the windy pits (pot holes, to you and me!) in this location so much of it flows underground at this point.

May 2011 – the Rye

A super injunction has been taken out, and this prevents me from revealing where we fished. Neither does the description accorded to Lot 150 in this year’s WTT Auction, generously donated by John (as was Lot 213), reveal the ‘where’, and whilst it may be the same water, only the angler making the winning bid, and my goodself know where, but you, Dear Reader, will never know!

Let me describe the Rye.

Firstly, I had never heard or read about it.

In parts it has special protected status – SPA, SAC, SSSI, as it flows through the most glorious and varied countryside.

“The River Rye rises just south of the Cleveland Hills, east of Osmotherley, and flows through Hawnby, Rievaulx, Helmsley, Nunnington, West and East Ness, Butterwick, Brawby, and Ryton, before joining the River Derwent near Malton.”(Wikipedia)

And also – “At source the River Rye and its tributaries run over Corallian limestone which outcrops on the hills surrounding the Vale of Pickering. In places this major aquifer is exposed in the river bed and water from the river is lost through swallow hole” as explained by John.

Arriving at our first venue in the heart of the Dale, I was struck by the calm and only the sound of birds broke the silence. We stood by an ancient stone bridge and discussed tactics.

Recent days had been punctuated by strong westerly winds and in the absence of fly life and with no fish rising, yet, John’s preferred nymphing set up at the start of the morning is New Zealand style, or as he describes it, “klink and dink”, with a weighted nymph trailing a bushy klinkhammer. As he admitted, in the wind in which we were fishing, the tangles were likely to be horrendous, and there were one or two, but, Boy did this rig work! John encouraged me to cast across current and upstream between overhanging branches of an alder, into a fast-ish run. He estimated the water was no more than eighteen inches deep there, and the first fish to come out was a grayling of 12”, the second a small brown trout,


 

 

 

 

 

 

and the third, a grayling of 1 lb. plus –

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…and whilst a couple more trout came to net that morning, it was the grayling which surprised. Ten or so came to net, and at least four of them were well over the 1 lb mark, the largest nearer 2lb. Staggering for a small stream, and averaging much larger than in the Avon. And all on his rig!

In the afternoon, we moved downstream some five miles. I always aim to buy my host lunch on days like this, but it was impossible this day because John had brought a picnic of Yorkshire Pasty and Ampleforth Abbey Cider which were graciously consumed, before viewing this lower beat. We could have been in another county…..on another river. For here the river meanders through arable flat land with grassy banks,

over gravelly bottom with curious grey slates in parts, with long flowing weed. The bends in the river have created deep pools but the glides are more Hampshire in character and I am sure there were more fish under the weed than were visible. The wind was gusting but the temperature rose in increasing sunshine and the odd May, along with some olives produced spasmodic rises, and eagerly I switched to a dry fly. Jim, the Keeper, confirmed that just the week before, anglers were catching fish with imitations as May duns went floating by…funny how it’s always ’last week’!

I caught up with John and Jim who were chatting upstream, and learned that John had netted a couple of good fish on mayfly imitation from below the far bank where they were standing. John had to leave at five, so I wandered back downstream to see whether the fish that were rising on my way up were still doing so, but no. And on arriving where John caught I noted a sipping rise across the stream so tied on a spent May, and hooked him with my second cast. He was a doughty fighter and headed into the weed and just as I thought he was lost, he slid through and into my net…about 1 ½ lbs.

Post script –

John….

My  thanks for a super day. You were most generous with your time, your knowledge, lunch, and your passion for angling, and the Yorkshire countryside is obvious. I have bought your book (‘A Dream of Jewelled Fishes’ published by Aurum), and I now understand your ‘Nom de Plume’!

ps 2…I have had many invitations to be LinkedIn, but have declined all of them. I do not ‘tweet’ and am not a ‘twit(terer)’, nor am I on Facebook. But….I connected with John on a Forum, so in one sense, I am a Social Networker, as must you be for reading me, I presume. Good for us…and for me at 63, there is hope….I think!

SHROPSHIRE

20 Friday May 2011

Posted by in Shropshire

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I have introduced David Thompson already in my scribblings…

he, a fisher whose garb is a blue boiler suit and beret, is commercial and an intellect and, a Bon Viveur and with an impeccable cellar (the La Lagune 1982 was delicious at dinner….it needs drinking he insisted, so we did), and so much more. Mine is always the pleasure, for our conversation is always wide and flowing.

You will know that I am indebted to him for capturing Herefordshire in 2010, and in preparing for another attempt at Salop, he must be excited, and I hereby reveal his pledge by letter to me, to “fish twice as much this year as last”…Good Man!

It is mid May, and perfidious Albion has been bereft of rain. Until last week, that is, when the West Midlands was blessed with three inches of it. This is not enough though. Some crops are developing earlier than they should in the unusual heat, and most will be well down in quantity or volume, and prices will increase. The madness that is supermarket promotional strategy should contain prices in store, though, to an extent. The rain made me concerned for our fishing this weekend, but a sighting of the first stream en route to Shropshire suggested a tinge of colour, but nothing to worry about…but water levels were depressingly low. This rain merely dampened the soil and no benefits have been derived. We must have more soon.

My day started in London where the skies were clear, blue and the sun shone. The drive to the Midlands was the same, but by mid morning the winds were up, cloud cover increased, and there was rain in the air. A walk along the banks of the Onny at Onibury,

where the Midland Fly Fishers rent their fishing from the Magnus Alcroft Estate, revealed waters which I described as ‘sterile’. In other words, I saw not one rise, nor any fish move, and my sense of anxiety rose as I looked at another Shropshire ‘blank’. And nymphing the pockets produced no interest either, and David quickly decided that we should move to –

May 2011 – the Byne Brook

A picnic lunch of smoked salmon sandwich, prosciutto slices and Mareka’s most delicious puff pastry tart of cherry tomatoes and asparagus washed down with NZ Sauvignon Blanc calmed the morning nerves, whilst excitement grew, watching a couple small fish slurping (maybe that was me!) medium olives.

“You go upstream” David declared, “and I will go downstream”

“You can go up a long way…beyond where the river bifurcates”, he advised….I love words!

The wooded meters were shallow and whilst there may have been some fish lurking there, the odd, speculative cast of an Adams delivered nothing. I clambered over a fallen branch and spooked two small chaps and knew there was life, though.

A bend in the stream ahead had etched a deep pool just below

where fast waters rushed over gravelly shallows. In the sunshine, some duns were being eagerly snatched by at least two fish, and switching to a full white hackled ‘something’ which was as close as I could imitate what I saw….my Shropshire fish was taken ( ¾ lbs) as was another.

I fished upwards in serenity, the pressure off, and cast beautifully through the winds, to fish rising in the warm air, and caught another five on elk hair caddis.

My method was to cast where I saw rises, and if successful, move on, expecting that the hooked fish would have upset others in the pool. Remember, this is a tiny stream. Most fish were taken at the head of each pool where the fast waters entering it,

were delivering a steady stream of duns to these greedy chaps.

Then, it rained…and it did, in spades.

But David revealed that the last stocking was done some ten years ago, so my catch of seven fish were wild.

We chatted to a farmer before leaving….he reported seeing otters downstream. This was the second occasion  in just a couple of weeks when the otter has featured in bankside discussions. They are indiginous to our streams, but a menace to our stock of wild fish. And my ‘mission’ seems to be revealing that wild fish are plentiful in the less accessible and smaller streams, and our heritage in this respect, must be protected.

RUTLAND

20 Friday May 2011

Posted by in Rutland

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Is Rutland a county?

Well, it was, then it wasn’t, and now it is!

That’s democracy for you and an “up yours” to Westminster (see Musings 10.5)

But it is a VERY small county….and with a trout stream?

In 2010, that I spotted that, one Andrew Flitcroft offered a day on his beat on his Rutland stream to the successful bidder for a lot in the WTT Annual Auction, that I realised there was such an opportunity, and probably the only one. My own bids came to nought that year, for I had then not heard of ‘sniping’!

But I wrote to Andrew, anyway, at his office in Peterborough and he kindly agreed to host my visit the following year, this one, and I had offered to send the WTT what I had bid, as a thank you, if he would be so kind to accommodate me.

May 2011 – the Gwash

The ‘OK Diner’ on the A1 just upstream (north) of Stamford was our meeting place.

And so we met. Don’t you find that on meeting, you know instantly that you will like someone, and that you will enjoy their company…and so it was at 10 am that day, and so it proved to be the case. I suppose I am motivated by enthusiasm and energy and commitment, and Andrew has these qualities in spades.

He has a long lease on a piece of water, in one place adjacent to, but in the main downstream of the Gwash Fishing Club’s water, and it is fed by pipes at the base of the dam at Rutland Water ensuring a steady flow of cold water which remains so, constantly through the year, delivering a consistency to his stream.

When Andrew first walked the mile or so of water he now has, what he saw  must have excited him as much as it daunted him. He was greeted by fallen timber, heavy overgrowth, little light, sparse vegetation, slow moving water, deep silted margins, un-protected banks where grazing sheep or cattle could add to the woes of this water…but he saw wild brown trout, too. And it could not have been fished for years, and he saw an opportunity to create something special. Over the winter months of the past few years, he and a small number of friends have begun the recreation of this place.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The stream has distinct sections. The banks on the upper reaches are clearer, running as they do through meadow and space owned by a school for special needs children, but the fish are easily spooked. The lower beat is unworked and still unfishable, massive overgrowth, still to be cleared….but the middle section…!?

This is a meandering ‘wonderland’ of difference, because you never know what to expect around the next bend in this pretty stream.

It could be a long pool, a short run, a flourish through a groin, or a deflector, and surrounded by wild flowers, and enough cover for fish to be confident, and enough bank side foliage for the angler to have to concentrate.

The fish are wary though, and Andrew, reminding me of the need for stealth, often had me be casting from a way back, and the roll cast was often required, too, in the tighter lies. Weed growth is coming on, but to Andrew’s disappointment, lowish water has left some weed covered by algae, and the brightness of weed growth will not be revealed until rainfall flushes the algae away.

The fish are quick and several were missed by ‘yours truly’ but an optimist, by nature, Andrew assured me there many more to come, and so there were, and a couple came to net early on my new favourite fly, #22 Adams, along with a few more misses!

The work that Andrew’s small syndicate has undertaken uses the materials which have revealed the stream as it is today, so that except for the odd piece of angle iron anchoring a flow deflector,

what you see comes from the river side and looks completely natural rather than man made. Plenty of scouring runs have been created, but the silt remains in the margins and will, until washed, or blown away.

Then, his stream will look resplendent. However, what is there today is a minor miracle and has been achieved in only five years of dedication. It is a treasure……and is Rutland’s only trout stream.

SUFFOLK

12 Thursday May 2011

Posted by in Suffolk

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Google ‘trout rivers in Suffolk’….go on, do it!

Not much help from this search engine, eh?! Or most of the others, so patience and persistence was called for.

From my ‘where to’ sites, I chanced upon UKFishersOnline, and made a speculative call to the telephone number given for a ‘trout stretch’ on a river near Bury St Edmunds. I was delighted to talk to John Anderson who listened interestedly as I described my ‘mission’ and he volunteered to help me. I was to call him nearer the time of my planned visit.

As it happened I called him from Amsterdam whilst visiting Son and D-i-L #2, and, GS 1&4.

A lady answered – “Oh, you’re the fisherman!”  she commented….. I liked that!

Everything was quickly arranged after talking to John, and he mailed me a map to show outside which Red Lion pub, we should meet, and from which map I determined that I was to fish the water of the Lark Angling & Preservation Society.

I had found their website, but this informed me that no trout water memberships were available, nor day tickets, so my ‘fortune favours the bold’ approach to John was lucky, and his response was generous (a word which features in this blog several times!)

The site informed me that  –

“The River Lark rises south of Bury St. Edmunds and flows north-west across Suffolk and into Cambridgeshire, where it joins the Great Ouse near Prickwillow.  In its upper and middle reaches the Lark is a lowland chalk stream….”

and

“The Society also has some 6 miles of Fly Fishing water available on the River Lark between Bury St Edmunds & Mildenhall Suffolk

This is a great Fly Fishing experience with Wild Brown Trout in excess of 4lbs and stocked Brown Trout up to 6lbs in Weight”

May 2011 – the Lark

I travelled to Bury from North Norfolk and enjoyed a lovely drive on a beautiful Spring morning with the sun streaming through the coniferous woodlands south of Swafham and the hard wood area of Thetford. The Forestry Commission do a marvellous job in Thetford and the Stag at Lynford is rather special.

John is a retired GP,

so it was unlikely that I would be able to read the content of his hand written joining instructions to me, but  I did and we met at the prescribed time!

A short run to the river and an interesting chat about LAPS followed,

including the comment that ‘not many fish had been taken so far this season’. But, John kindly walked the bank and indicated some likely ‘where’s’, but on a sunny but windy morning, not only was casting difficult into runs between reeds which were already narrowing the flow, inside quite heavily silted bank sides, but there seemed to be little fly life, too. John noted that on a gravel pit nearby, there were six cormorants!

We saw no fish move that morning, (except, for maybe one chub) and I concluded, that in the bright light, fish were in the reedy margins, and my visit’ highlights were confined to good conversation with John, and his kind invitation to return, later in the season.

Eager to see more of the LAPS water, I ventured upstream, and on the road bridge just shy of Lackford, I spooked a small fish, which motivates and means I must return!

Until September, John….

NORFOLK

10 Tuesday May 2011

Posted by in Norfolk

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I was perusing some books locked away unseen in my storage unit, and I found a copy of ‘Trout in Norfolk’ by E. C. Keith, which was published in 1936. It is in great condition, and has the pristine look of a ‘first edition’. I know not when I procured it, or how, but maybe I was given it. It does not have my personal library stamp in it, either, so who knows? It talks extensively about the Wensum, Yare, Nar, Bure, Wissey, Whitewater, and, of course, the Ouse. It discusses through a series of anecdotes, the fishing quality of 75 years ago, and does so with an honesty which belies the myths of some who believe it was always better, then, in the past! It talks as fondly of roach, as it does of trout.

I loved the question posed on p154 – “Why is it that fishermen are so easily tempted by a tackle maker’s shop?” Life does not change! I can never exit a store without purchasing some leader, or some flies, or a book…in fact I think it would be unacceptable, and rather rude, not to.

Norfolk has a seam of chalk running through it,

and I was intrigued to read, also, excerpts from the Rangeley-Wilson compendium, ‘Chalkstream…Fishing the Perfect River’., which offers ideas about where, as well.

Separately, I would add that his is a really good book, (also anecdotal in content) published by Medlar (who also publish ‘Waterlog’) and whilst expert and knowledgeable, Charles is also President of the WTT and he cares, but he writes convincingly and worryingly in its Introduction, of the true extent of just how much river qualities have changed through man’s interventions in the latter years of the last century. It is a thought provoking read and salutary in its warnings.

In the event, my search for Norfolk opportunity was conducted via the typical ‘where to’ websites, and both ‘fishandfly’ and ‘flyfishingvenues’ referred to Bintry Mill, a fishery visited by John Wilson (can someone stop him laughing?) and John Bailey, too, in those much repeated series on ‘Discovery Shed’. So I already have a picture of the possible.

I uncovered the name of Terry Lawton, and wrote to him describing my mission, and asked for his advice, as I knew that the Wensum has trout, but had discovered on the Salmon & Trout Association website that members could access water on the Bure at the National Trust’s Bickling Hall property, but I wondered where a ‘local’ would suggest I try.

I did not know until he responded that he is Secretary to Bintry Mill Trout Fishery, and he (“you have set yourself an interesting challenge”) kindly invited me to be his guest on his water.

May 2011 – the Wensum (the “Test of Norfolk”)

Meandering through Norfolk’s country lanes from my overnight in Dereham, I discovered that whilst SatNav helps, to those of us from a pre-techno era, instinct normally suffices, and did. And besides which, technology makes us lazy. Just one glimpse of a corner of the roof of the Mill, and from a quarter of a mile away, and I knew I was there

…not that I thought I would never find it…but satellite pictures from Google do not necessarily resemble the grounded reality!

Parking Tonka Too, I was approached by a friendly chap, whose opening was – “you didn’t get that tan in this country”…too true, but being outdoors in this remarkable April makes it difficult to remain pastel, no matter what you do. He was Paul Seaman, whose family has owned the Mill and its environs since 1906. His space is SSSI and SPA designated…and is truly special. Knowing who I was to meet, he gave me a short and proud tour and history lesson which confirmed that this reach of the Wensum flowed over the northernmost seam of chalk which lies diagonally across Anglia, and cuts, by him, into the hillside by his farm to expose more nesting opportunities, reveal crustacean remains in the chalk which were plain to see. His stretch of the river is leased to the 50 members of the Bintry Mill Fishing Club, and has the steepest gradient on the Wensum producing flows which make it an ideal trout habitat. Below the mill race the river twists and turns through woodland

and meadow, over tractor track and around fallen branches, has riffle and gravelly runs, pockets and glides, and contains wild and stocked fish. And the Club also has a beat lower down at Yarrow Farm, which is more Wylye like.

Terry was an inspirational host. Passionate about his fishery, determined that it is managed carefully, alert to the wildlife within it, and protective of his head of wild fish .It is always interesting to fish with an angler who readily identifies fly life, as he does, and he has put this keen eye to good use in writings, and I notice that his latest book, “The Upstream Wet Fly” is reviewed in the June edition of Trout & Salmon.

His observant nature prompted some interesting conversation. Steering me toward a rising fish, soon after our mid-morning arrival, I cast an Adams which prompted a splashing take. “Sometimes”, he declared,” we endow fish with human characteristics…and the noise (of the splash) probably frightens them, which is why they don’t rise again for a while”…umm!

“And why expend so much energy and not take the fly?” I responded. Maybe they know instinctively that the Mays are coming and their annual banquet bonanza is imminent!!

Some fish moved when the winds abated and the air temperature rose. And they stopped as the winds returned, but not before I tempted a lovely eight inch wild fish

on a #22 Adams, then a fry, too small to know better, and a stocked fish of a couple of pounds,

to be able to ‘net’ Norfolk.

We fished the lower beat in the afternoon and I lost a larger (stocked?) fish, and Terry caught a small wild fish from no more than twelve feet away from where I was casting, no doubt belying another myth!

A memorable day….thank you, Terry.

…….Afterwards, I drove to Brancaster, to the country home of Tim and Liz How, for the June meeting of the Reed Dining Club. It was a splendid evening, and in their letter of thanks to Tim and Liz, from two members there were the following paragraphs, which might amuse!

Post script 1 – (WLP)…. “It was a great shame to have missed Antonio Mair this morning as he left so early to do his extraordinary (fishing)  journey from Brancaster Staithe to Bury St. Edmunds to Stamford Lincs.  I did hear one of the girls say that it was a frightening sight at 7.30 a.m. seeing “The Great Permatan with the Grey Mullet” in a state of undress, floundering from bedroom to bathroom.  And just a little cod-piece covering his tiny prawn  (or is it a tadpole ?) and his wide bream …….   Even worse I had fixed it with Liz that he would have some kippers for breakfast…… and I was perched nearby with a camera to record the moment when Battersea and Brancaster were as one, but he skated off early, carping under his breath as he dabbed at the make up around his eyes ….

Well that’s enough of all that old pollocks !”

Post script 2 – (MP)…. “Good luck Tony on your fishing challenge …you seem to be moving on from plaice to plaice with a real sense of porpoise”