Tag Archives: Loomis

COUNTY DURHAM

05 Tuesday Jun 2012

Posted by in County Durham

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When I asked Geoff Hodgson to help me in my quest to capture the three North East counties, he declared  – “ we could do that in a day!” Geographically, he is probably right, but in reality….!?

In searching for somewhere interesting to try to net Co Durham, and through Fly Fishing Forum, I had an exchange with Daran S, who advised that –

“…the Tees is a magnificent river. At the source it is wonderful wild brown trout fishing. Rugged,  boulder-strewn river in remote, isolated countryside. You can fish for £12 and not see another person all day. An 8oz fish is a scrapper and they will rise to dry flies all day long. Not easy fishing, but get it right and 30+ fish a day is not unheard of. Up there, the river is in County Durham.”

In a later email he offered this additional guidance –

“If it’s the upper reaches of the Tees you after, go to the gift shop next to the High Force Hotel. You can buy day tickets for (I think) £12. Ask for a map and the code for the gate to Widdybank Farm.

Drive up the valley and turn left just at the Langden Beck hotel and follow the road. You’ll see the gate down to the farm on your left (there are signs showing Teesdale Wildlife by the gate). Follow the track down to the farm and park. You then have miles of the most unspoilt wild brown trout fishing in the country. Fish anywhere. There are plenty of fish behind and in front of every rock. I usually fish dries as they will rise to almost anything. Something bushy and black is a good place to start. You’ll miss loads of takes as they are lightning fast. If you think you’re missing too many, change down a size. If they aren’t taking dries, try a small beaded nymph, fished Duo style. I like an orange bead for the peaty, stained water.

One warning. The weather can change very quickly so be prepared. A gentle breeze further down the valley can mean a bit of a gale in the upper reaches. I usually use a fairly short rod and fish very close. You can actually fish from the bank if you don’t want to wade. The river is full of ankle-breaking rocks and in places can be a bit hard to wade in.

Just keep moving. One or two casts into each run and then move on. A good day will see you take 30+ fish………”

I was intrigued, and was bound to follow his advice and head to the upper reaches of his stream.

May 2012 – the Tees

The A1 is endless, but more interesting than the M1. The A66 is much more interesting than both, as it heads towards the Pennines, but get onto the B 6277 as it leaves Barnard Castle, and you get into serious ‘shock and awe’ territory, where the views of the North Pennines are simply glorious, and stretch out, horizon to horizon.

This year, after a warm March and wet April, when everything went onto hold, plant life eventually came to terms with the volatile weather, and the result which I saw was a green and luxurious vista which was welcoming and almost soft and gentle, but I bet at times it looks raw and unforgiving, and especially when the sleet is driving laterally across the windscreen, and it is cold, and “did I remember to put a shovel in the boot?”

The drive through Middleton-in-Teesdale is punctuated by the sight of many white washed buildings which I later learn are all owned by the Lord Barnard, whose family has lived in Raby Castle since 1626, and is still considered to be one of the finest medieval castles in the country. The drive to my overnight destination at the High Force Hotel, at Forest-in- Middleton

takes me to an elevation of some 1000 feet above sea level, and the welcome from Mike and Vicki is genuine. Actually, this early in the season, I am their own guests, so they really are pleased to see me!

I cannot wait for the next morning, and to try to ’net’ County Durham, and so waking early, I jumped into Tonka, and used Daran’s instructions to find where he feels I should fish. The rains then are what I would call ‘mizzle’ but hardening to serious rain, but it is a long way off the beaten track, and I am here, so will bear whatever Nature has in mind for the day, and in fairness, the forecasters have been advising that what I see is quite what I should expect. The Tees is fed by the Cow Green Reservoir, and I figure that means, that so high up its length, the flow is constant and under influenced by the run off that downstream stretches will be coloured by.

The north bank waters are part of the Upper Teesdale Estate, and I had to drive back to Middleton to buy a day ticket from the Raby Estate office, and then retraced my steps to whence I had been a couple of hours earlier, and off road, drove the mile to Widdy Bank Farm. It was raining, seriously, now!

The river, high in the Pennines, had an Iceland look to it,

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

and made me feel I was on a practice run for our next trip in early August! It is bleak up here, and the wind was blowing in showers of penetrating wetness, and I was pleased that just recently I had purchased a new Patagonia wading jacket. The river here is boulder strewn and the peaty water made it difficult to determine the depth, so I fished from the bank. That gave me problems because I had taken my Loomis, and punching a 4 weight line through the breeze was challenging, but after working the calmer water in between runs I hooked up, and soon landed a beautiful little wild brown,

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

and thereafter did not feel quite so wet and damp! I guess I must have walked a couple of miles searching through the runs and riffles, and no matter that no more fish came to net, I had captured County Durham, and decided to try downstream in lass bleak conditions.

And so, just a mile or three later I was near Bowlees. The river here, downstream of the famous High Force waterfalls is dramatic in its runs over monstrous rock formations,

and into deep pools, along pebbly glides, and between tiny wild flower covered islands. So beautiful…but such difficult wading. I have rarely encountered such slippery stones, even more than the Usk’swhen the algae is in full growth, and that’s saying something. Fishing now with a five weightline and longer rod (Greys 8’ 3”), I was able to cast a fair way and cover a lot of water, and along came my second CD fish, of deep butter flanks, and this one nearly one lb.

 

I had hoped that I would be fishing dry, but in the wet and windy conditions, I never saw a rise so Skues won, and a PTN was the taking fly.

And then I got to wonder about Geoff’s assertion, and thought, “well if I head off to Rowlands Gill, now (it was one-ish) then potentially I have two bites of the cherry, if there is nothing rising, tonight!”….so did!

I loved the setting of this wild part of our country…a ramblers’ paradise, but be prepared. I can see how conditions could turn nasty, and the hills are remote and isolated. The towns and villages are attractive, and the people are most welcoming, for they know that only the committed make the long trek to be there, and they need visitors. A poor summer makes it a long winter for those dependent on this trade.

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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!

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?

HAMPSHIRE

16 Tuesday Nov 2010

Posted by in Hampshire

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Peter Lipscombe was a Director of Guinness plc when we first met. I was asked to join a team of seniors from his company, and from mine, GrandMet plc, who were tasked with recommending the name for the entity which the merged companies would become. Wolf Olins did the groundwork at considerable expense and shortlisted three names, and as in all cases, there was no point in doing so much work on this, because the new board would choose the name (and Wolf Olins, its justifications and explanations!), and so it happened, and was Diageo born.

The next time I came across Peter was after he had retired. In 2000 the Guinness brand was integrated within the ‘big spirits’ brands portfolio, of which I was commercial head in the UK. Not missing a trick, one of my Sales Directors, the most experienced Stephen Digby, and himself, a Past Master, quickly suggested that I become a Liveryman of the Worshipful Company of Brewers in the City of London. Peter had been, too, and was himself, Master in 1990-91.

I have just completed my ‘year’ as Master, during which, Peter, a very keen angler, and Wykehamist, invited me to fish on the School water in the middle of Winchester. A rare treat on a beat which is mentioned extensively in Tony Hayter’s book, ‘F M Halford and the Dry-Fly Revolution’, which chronicles the time and experiences Halford had on the same beats in the 1880’s (and I gave a copy to Peter, in thanks), so I, a Halfordian, accepted with relish!

September 2010 – the Itchen

 

In recognition of this famous water, it seemed appropriate to fish with Moreno’s bamboo rod www.mbrods.it which was paired with a 3-weight Cortland Sylk line (very soft and pliable, with little or no memory, and one of the best I have found) and the bronzed Loomis Eastfork reel, for colour coordination, you understand !

My trip down the Hog’s Back was quick, and I had time to pop into the Rod Box, (another wonderful fishing shop) in Kings Worthy, to stock up with some small PTNs (you cannot have enough at the end of the season), and then following Peter’s directions arrived as requested, but still early, and therefore in time to meet and introduce myself to River Keeper (for thirteen years), Mark Sankey.

We studied the water on the carrier nest to the School hut, and I listened intently to his advice on the ‘killer’ flies, as we watched juvenile wild fish moving just subsurface and coming up occasionally to emergers. And we watched a couple of several pounders keeping to themselves in the deeper waters…ummm! Dries, or wets?

Peter arrived and we discussed tactics.

We would fish upstream from the road bridge

before lunch, he a ‘leftie’ on the true left bank therefore, and me the opposite, a ‘rightie’. It was an interesting, and true chalk stream experience. This was stalking…and there were fish galore, but they detected the slightest movement from a serious distance and would scurry away in earnest leaving the inept (me!) with little to cast at…that is all but the pike, of which there were too many for comfort, but even they were a little leary, and a swirl and a muddy cloud showed that they, too, were off to a more comfortable lie. The sun was high, the light was bright, there was surprisingly little ranunculus, and therefore, cover, and the trout were wary. I searched for deeper water and currents where my movements would be unseen, and put on a pheasant tail nymph.

In time I found my spot, and took, first a grayling, and then a Wykehamist brown. (I emailed Moreno the pictures from bankside!)

I confess to being confused by these educated fish. Some larger specimens were completely un-phased by my presence, and of course, rejected my feeble attempts to lure them. But September can be a great month or a difficult one. Fly life was scarce….a few upwings, but little else, so subsurface was the way, but also, the barometer was flexing, and patience was important.

In the early afternoon, and in the lower beats, the quietness (silence) of the river was deafening.

But on a bend no more than 200m below the road I found a fish feeding under the branches of a large beech. I tried so many different dries and on every new one, he (?) came up and took a sniff, and did the same as the last time. And, conscious of the tightness of the situation, I was casting side arm, and magnificently, and presenting many flies right over his snout, with great skill, but still failed to impress, or induce a ‘take’. I was completely ignored. It did not help when Peter announced he had just taken his first fish, just yards above me!

We walked along the carrier, and I was reminded of Huddi’s river, the Arnarvatnsa in northern Iceland, it too, a carrier of a world famous river, the Laxa. Twenty five feet wide, flat calm with little noticeable flow, and therefore, little weed life, virtually no bankside cover to hide behind, so, easily spooked fish! So my chances nearer dusk would be improved.

At around 5pm we split up. Peter wandered back upstream to fish from the School playing fields (left) bank, and I persisted below the sluice, starting again where we had earlier, but very slowly because I was intending to fish through to darkness. I was diligent and carefully watching the water and still hoping to see some rising fish…some grayling were, but no trout until, and on arrival opposite my beech tree there he was, and a second smaller fish, too, still coming up and sipping. So I tried again, and again, and again. Guess what? Hhmmm!

 

 

 

 

 

 

After many (more) casts and just as I decided that he/she had won…this beautiful fish of 3 lbs or more, leapt out of the water in triumph….for he/she decided he/she had too !!!

And so to the carrier!

By 7 pm the light was fading. Rings and swirls appeared in the flat waters ahead of me.

Some were aggressive ‘plops’, some gentle ‘slurps’….typical trout and grayling rises. Supper was being delivered, and with predatory fears receding, they were ready to eat.

I moved upstream quickly and cast to rising fish. The joy of parachute flies is that you can see them. And because I failed all day to identify what was hatching, I resorted to the ubiquitous Klinkhammer, and the olive version did not let me down, and three grayling and one brown came to my net. And then it was dark.

Peter wrote me a nice note –

“Dear Tony,

Just to say,  thanks again very much for the book.  Having taken a closer look, the photo of ‘Old Barge’ is indeed where we fished yesterday (about as far up the main river as you reached).  I am much looking forward to dipping into the history.  Thanks also for lunch.  Sorry the day was not very productive – on reflection I think the fish had their minds on other things.  The one I caught and the one I saw jumping out of the water were very coloured – like red salmon.

I much enjoyed your company.

Best

Peter

But as I said to him – “the thanks are all mine”

GREATER LONDON

24 Sunday Oct 2010

Posted by in Greater London

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I met William Tall during the mayfly season, when we were both invited by Paul Jennings to fish his beat on the Chess.

William is an expert fly fisher, a knowledgeable naturalist with a keen interest in fly life, and stalwart of the Wandle Piscators,  www.wandlepiscators.net

I was fascinated to hear of the work that he and his team have undertaken along with members of the Wandle Trust www.wandletrust.org , on a river which was renowned in the 18th century, as one of the most prolific trout streams in England. Its demise, through the years of the Industrial Revolution is well chronicled, with up to 100 mills in its meagre 9 miles from rising in Carshalton, to entering the Thames at Wandsworth. Its ill treatment by modern man is less well acknowledged, but attempts to improve the water quality and its aquatic wildlife this Millennium, by these two organisations, have been recognised, even if there have been setbacks, plus major chemical pollution in 2007, which killed hundreds (thousands) of fish. Recently, trout have been introduced to the river in an imaginative scheme for school age children – “Trout in the Classroom”, and trout fry have been found upstream near the old  Shipley Mill earlier this year, motivating all involved with thoughts of recovery.

Explaining my ‘mission’ and admitting that in spite of walking his river in winter months searching out likely water, I was finding his river a mystery, William kindly offered to guide me to where he thought I might find success. He, like me, is semi-retired, and was able to dedicate a whole day to wandering and casting.

September 2010 – the Wandle

Kitting up in waders in a superstore car park adjacent to a busy London street was always going to amuse some, and it did! But fortified by William’s reassuring smile, and armed with my new Loomis, off we strode across said street and into Wandle Bank, past the John Brown Partnership factory site and round the old Merton Mill (a flour mill, once owned by Scot, James Perry, owner of the Morning Chronicle, a then 18th century Private Eye, but daily!). William said that brown trout and a sea trout, had recently been taken from the mill run.

A Halfordian, I persisted with a dry for a while, but William knows of few trout caught on the surface, so I switched to a weighted pheasant tail nymph, but to no avail. So we waded on upstream toward Merton High Street, stopping and chatting to interested locals who wanted to talk about pollution, wild life, and who I sensed were relieved to think that fishing suggested their river was more healthy than they thought. We bent double to creep under the road bridge (“hope you don’t mind spiders!” asked William) to cast into the waters where   Charles Rangeley- Wilson was filmed for the ‘Accidental Angler’

The river is alive. Walking to a Merton Abbey pub, we encountered a young angler who had just caught a whopping big gudgeon of five inches ( the British record is five ounces from the Wiltshire’ Nadder), and whose blog, which William had read, recorded his catch of a 5 lb. carp the previous week.

Later we drove to Poulter Park – where we bumped into some coarse anglers, some of whom had, that day, caught trout in this stretch, where some fish in the ‘Trout in the Classroom’ project had been released. We both fished below the inlet from the Water Purification plant to above the weir some one yards downstream, but for no fish.

Odd that the coarse anglers were not trying for trout and caught them, and I was trying for trout, and……!!!?  Maybe I should try trotting some maggots down that stretch?

There followed a short walk and wade toward Goat Mill (where I caught a bleak and a small barbel on the dry earlier this summer), but no fish there today, either!

Days later, William sent me a note, with an attachment. A picture of The Piscator’s Senior Vice President, Theo Pike, with his first trout from Poulter Park….what a tease (?)….I will be back, soonest, and I told William that he would be the first to know.

Later –

Almost two weeks after my day with William, and on a dull grey day, with drizzle in the air, temperatures in the mid teens, Autumn calling, and when I really felt like staying home, but with only three days before the end of the season, I dashed down to Mitcham Common for one last try, and on the Poulter Park stretch. There was a little colour in the water after overnight rains but I took that to be ‘a good thing’. I strode, purposefully, to the weir for a few casts, but I had a plan. It was there first, but for nothing, and then back to the inlet area.

It was 1030am on Tuesday 28th.

I was fishing a weighted pheasant tail nymph, and using my Moreno bamboo rod.

Three casts into the fast water and a take…but it was off!

Was it a trout…who knows, but I was encouraged.

More casts…and still more casts…a longer line and casts further into the quicker stream.

A snag on the back cast…damn!  Release it, quickly, for I am motivated !!

Another, but longer cast still…and …BANG!!…another take.

But this fish is well hooked, and after a strong fight….I have a Greater London brownie in my net.

Two photographs and he is returned to breed and help to rebuild the brood stock on this recovering water.

Some would have fished on. My feelings of accomplishment [‘job done’], or pure joy/relief, but probably gratitude, to this lovely urban stream, and with such a noble history,…said to me – “No, go home”   And I did.

But my first act when back at Tonka Too, was to ‘Blackberry’ William, with – “I told you, you would be the first to know…”

His generous reply was – “Congratulations Tony, That’s a lovely Wandle trout and you are now a member of a pretty select band of fly fishers.  Some of the Wandle Piscators members have been trying for years to catch a Wandle trout on a fly.”

The season is ended. Perhaps this lovely fish is the most memorable of my year.

There are few opportunities to catch a London trout, and with help, I have caught one.

I am truly ‘chuffed’.

And I can’t wait for April next year….I am now off to do some serious plotting.

Post script – there is a lovely article posted on Jack Gartside’s website.www.jackgartside.com/art_christmas_queen.htm . (Whilst sadly gone, his site is being maintained by friends) I went to search out what he had found, just in case. The said moat is now gravelled in, and an enquiry to an English Heritage representative in the Jewel Tower, revealed that the moat disgorged itself into the underground car park, used by Parliamentarians, in Abingdon Street, in the early nineties. Jack would have smiled at that…but the trout were gone!


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