Tag Archives: David Thompson

STAFFORDSHIRE

22 Saturday Jun 2013

Posted by in Staffordshire

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Mareka’s dinner of Norfolk hake was delicious(lightly steamed over a bed of sliced red peppers and onions) as was David’s generous offering of an aged Cote Rotie, and a good night’s sleep in anticipation of a rare sunny day’s fishing was set. The drive from their home took us through territory which was new to me, through the Staffordshire towns of Stone and Blythe Bridge, and into the Peak District, surely one of Britain’s treasured spaces, and especially on such a beautiful day as on ours.

And onwards to the village of Hartington, home to the Charles Cotton Hotel

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which is where we were to meet our host for the day, Andrew Heath.

The Manifold – a WTT Auction Lot, 2013

This was a day when I was able to repay David’s invitations to me to fish his syndicate waters, and the Manifold was a river new to us both, and what a glorious little stream it turned out to be,

CIMG1527running clear after recent rains at its 800ft elevation, where weed life is scarce, and protective rocks and boulders rare, in an environment where winter rains and their spates produce waters where food is limited, and those fish which survive grow slowly in cold water.

Even now, weed was absent, fly life was feeble, and as hungry as they may have been, such feeding was deep down, probably on caddis larva, so as much I wanted to ‘go dry’ the chances of a catch were unlikely. But hungry wild trout rarely turn down a tasty morsel, and before lunch two came to an elk hair caddis.

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And the two which came to me after our tasty lunch did so, to trailing weighted caddis nymphs.

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DT persevered for another four fish, and all his from difficult sub arboreal lies which would challenge the most gifted caster, were on fluffy dries! A Champion!!

We all know just how late this Spring has been and Andrew would have wished that we had seen his beat behaving and fishing more easily than it did. But on this beautiful day, which brought out striding ski-poled ramblers and dog walkers, and hang gliders aerial surfing the peaks nearby, it was the joy of being there which made the day.

 This beat, which is leased to the Derby County Angling Club is on the Peak Passport scheme, and should be visited.

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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.

HEREFORDSHIRE

25 Monday Oct 2010

Posted by in Hereford

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Midlands Fly Fishers is a private club of sixty anglers, who for the reasonable sum of £400 every year have some 12 miles of beats on rivers in the Severn and Wye catchment areas, including the smaller, more intimate Lugg and Onny, and also on the Welsh Dee, and so a plethora of opportunities to target our four major salmonids. Only the Onny beat is stocked so it is wild brown heaven ! In addition, this area between the West Midlands and the Welsh Marches is teeming with small brooks and larger streams, such as the Teme the Arrow.

David Thompson is a workaholic, a serial Director, a colleague on the Court of the Worshipful Company of Brewers….and an outdoorsman and angler, whose preferred headwear is the beret (there is a row of them, hooked along a picture rail in the hallway of Albrighton Hall !!) who dresses to fish in a blue boiler suit, was quick to grasp the point of my mission, and immediately bought into it and offered to take me onto a river where it forms the boundary of Shropshire and Herefordshire so that I could score in “two counties with one fish!”

Good man !!

June 2010 – the LUGG

By reputation the Lugg is difficult to get onto because its waters are protected for club and syndicate. But David invited me stay, and after an evening on the Worfe which runs through one of his farms it was partridge for dinner cooked by Marika, and washed down with Palmer 81…’great life, init?’  Then off under grey skys and through Ludlow and into Herefordshire, chatting easily and unbroken for an hour until we reached Mortimer Cross.

We split up, and David’s advice was to work upstream crisscrossing…he spotted midges and recommended black gnat as a starter fly. I saw a rise…and crisscrossed…battling through wet bankside mud, and Himalayan Balsam, to a bend in the river. I, lazily, still had tied on the Tups from the previous evening, and two casts later I had my Herefordshire brown. Now…why did he take it? I read an article recently that such is the decline in fly life that trout are becoming less fussy…this may be true.

Moving on upstream, I encountered runs and riffles and  bends below which were many and seemingly deep pools. There were few fish moving and clearly they were lurking in the deeps, but true to my Halfordian principles and practices, and in spite of the obvious temptations, not a nymph was tied even though I knew they were there, and for the taking.

The river here was wooded and was accessed by treading carefully, hands and rod upstretched through fields of nettles as high as a man. It took too long to realise that the occasional white posts were there for a reason !This lovely stretch opens up some one mile upstream. Here the river meanders gently through open meadows, and with a cloudy sky, the fish were feeding, although rises were infrequent. Here, David and I caught up, and both took a brace.

Thank you, Hereford….thank you, the Lugg….thank you,  David.

We ventured to the Onny, to try to capture the second county of the day, but were thwarted by the colouration of heavy overnight rains coming off the Cambrian mountains. So I must  wait to add Shropshire until next season!