On Friday afternoon I wandered around the farm and found myself watching carp feeding in the margins of the pond. The temptation was too much. I returned to the house, set up a rod and walked back across the fields to find even more carp rooting around in the marginal silt. I tried a black spider which they ignored and a bloodworm imitation, which was also ignored. It was tricky casting in the blustery wind, good practice for the weekend trout fishing.

On Saturday morning, I started at Little Springs, the trout were rising to mayfly all over the lake. I tried dry, emerger and mayfly nymphs but the fish were shy and turned away at the last moment. I caught a very nice roach on a nymph before switching tactics.

At Great Springs I sat on the bench and allowed a deep sunk GRHE nymph to drift into the shade of a willow tree. I had a take and landed a good rainbow about two and a half pounds. An hour later another trout fought long and hard before slipping over the rim of the landing net.

In 1935 Pezon et Michel hired Charles Ritz as a technical consultant. The first split cane fly rods, with Ritz parabolic tapers, were sold in 1938. France declared war against Germany on 3 September 1939 and was invaded on 10 May 1940. Eighty five years later it seemed appropriate to use my restored Pezon et Michel fly rod to catch a trout from the river.

I drove to the river at Rotherbridge. The water had a pronounced green tint, an algal bloom caused by agricultural run-off. It was very hot and bright. I started fishing at Keepers Bridge where there is shade and plenty of alder trees rooted in the river banks providing refuge for the trout. Mayfly and alder flies were hatching but there was no sign of fish.

I walked upstream casting to all the fish holding spots. The old cane rod slowed down my casting arm and the casts became more accurate. I walked as far as the Old Riffle before fatigue and dehydration drove me back to the car.

We met at mid-day on Sunday, a meeting long delayed by Covid, work, family commitments etc. It was extremely hot and dusty. Seeds from the alder trees covered the surface of the water and clung to the tippet knot. I lost a couple of flies targeting a sunken tree trunk before moving slowly downstream.

After a four hours of concentration I slumped on the grass in the shade. A trout rose a few feet from me, a splashy feeding rise. I tried everything I knew to tempt the fish but without a response. I sat and watched mayfly spinners rising and falling in the breeze. I left the river earlier than I had planned but was glad to hear that my companion had caught a few during the evening rise.

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