Tag Archives: Moreno Borriero

NORTHAMPTONSHIRE

02 Saturday Jul 2011

Posted by in Northamptonshire

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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

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HERTFORDSHIRE

04 Saturday Jun 2011

Posted by in Hertfordshire

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

June 2011 – the Rib

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

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

The fishing is tough. No manicuring here.

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

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

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

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

Clambering back up through the nettles was interesting…

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

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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