After two months of constant rain, a high pressure system dominated England and early March was warm and dry. Dartmoor had four times the average annual rainfall and was saturated. Last spring was wet but three consecutive thirty degree heatwaves ruined the summer trout fishing on Dartmoor. Hot dry summers and warm wet winters are symptoms of global warming.

I was saddened to learn of the death of Robin Armstrong on 20 February as a result of poor health following a serious car crash from which he never fully recovered. He was a prolific wildlife artist, author and fisherman. Dennis Watkins-Pitchford was Robin’s favourite author and the preface to most of BB’s books, taken from a gravestone in Yorkshire, is particularly appropriate.

“The wonder of the world. The beauty and the power. The shapes of things, their colours, light and shades. These I saw, look ye also while life lasts.” 

I returned to Surrey for he start of the Leconfield season. The farm lake is full and lots of buzzers are hatching. The fish are feeding in the margins. Landscaping and planting will start when the ground has dried out.

The Leconfield AGM was well attended and a five year plan for the restoration of the River Rother was revealed. The river will be returned to its pre eighteenth century state, before it was straightened and deepened to allow navigation. The plan is very ambitious.

On Saturday I arrived early and chatted with a few members. The lakes were busy and I wandered around with a cup of tea taking action photos. I intended to fish with a favourite split cane rod in Robin Armstrong’s memory. The water was coloured and I started with a weighted black spider. I felt rusty and it took a while for the muscle memory to return during which time I missed a few takes and lost a couple of fish. I blamed the century old split cane. Most members disappeared mid-afternoon to watch the rugby at a local pub and I wandered around the lakes until I found a pod of trout. I landed three fish from Little Springs on a red and black spider, fished deep and close to the marginal weed. Rain was forecast and I left the estate happy to have caught a few trout in glorious spring sunshine. England lost to France.

On Sunday the weather made it impossible to give my grandson a casting lesson. I sought shelter in the woods at Little Bognor. The lakes were deserted, it was Mother’s day and the pubs were busy. The cold blustery wind from the southwest blew the line around. Presentation was difficult and after snagging several holly bushes, I moved to the open bank. A fish repeatedly followed my fly to the surface as I hung the spider at the end of the cast. It eventually took the fly. I caught a second brownie and left Fittleworth to get diesel and lunch.

The lakes at Stag Park were also deserted and I chose to fish at Luffs. A good fish took the fly on the first wind assisted cast. Thirty minutes later another trout took the fly seconds after it landed. I concluded that the trout could only see the fly in the coloured water by chance and decided to pack up, it was not very interesting fishing. It had been a weekend of stark contrasts, the weather had changed, busy Saturday deserted Sunday, warm then cold. However, all of the takes had been to the same black and red spider. I must tie some more.

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