Author: Nigel Rainton

It was a mixed week. The hottest day during May since records began, 33 degrees ! At the end of the week the trout in the lakes became lethargic as the water temperature exceeded 18 degrees and the dissolved oxygen level dropped.

At the start of the week we had bright sunshine, cold winds and rain showers. Then high pressure settled over England and a hot southerly wind brought soaring temperatures to the south east, Sussex baked and the trout disappeared into the weeds.

I visited Great Springs on 15 May and caught three nice rainbows on various patterns of mayfly. It was windy which helped me reach distant fish and the ripples hid the tippet.

On Saturday 16 May I took a loaf of bread and a light rod to the lake on the farm. The fish were patrolling the margins on the down-wind side of the lake and were very wary. I was surrounded by sheep and cattle. The grass had been chewed short which didn’t give me anywhere to hide. I caught one small wild carp. The first fish I had caught from the lake since it was dug and landscaped.

On Sunday 17 May I went to the Leconfield BBQ and ate too much cake. During the hour prior to the picnic I caught 3 rainbows from Luffs. I had the lake to myself. The south westerly breeze cooled me and helped with casting. The fish were hunting mayfly nymphs and adults, they took the dry fly as soon as it touched down.

On Thursday 21 May I caught two carp from the farm lake on floating crust. One fish was fat with spawn and the other had already spawned, we should have some lovely wild fish in a few years.

On Friday 22 May it was 28 degrees but I thought an evening visit to the river was in order. The heat wave forecast for the bank holiday weekend would prevent any further fishing trips before my return to Devon. The river at Keepers Bridge had an olive green tint and was up a few inches. I went upstream towards Perryfields Barn. During three hours walking I saw two fish rise, neither fish liked my imitation mayfly. The winged imitation of a dun twisted the tippet and presentation was poor, I should remove those patterns from my fly box.

I took photos of the mayfly as they hatched. The duns, spinners and egg layers were everywhere. There were no birds feeding on the flies and most duns lifted off the water and found security in the willow trees. By 8 o’clock I was exhausted, I should have delayed the trip a couple of hours.

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It was cold. An east wind, overcast sky and odd spells of sunshine, were perfect for fishing. I had an urge to fish the Abbey Beat on the Tavy.

I took the Hardy Perfect that I had rescued from a market stall. The water level was good and the deep wooded valley sheltered me from the cold wind. I paddled in the margins, flicked a nymph across the pool and let it drift under the overhanging branches. After twenty minutes of concentration I left the pool. A trout rose exactly where I had been fishing !

After another twenty minutes I gave up on the fish. A huge sea trout drifted downstream and disappeared in the riffle at the end of the pool. I walked to another, much deeper pool and worked the nymph beyond a sand bank. Nothing responded.

The woods along the river bank were carpeted with bluebells, pink campion and wild garlic. The garlic squeaked as I crushed it under foot and the scent was overpowering. Japanese Knotweed and Himalayan Balsam lined the edge of the river and restricted my back cast.

The rod performed well and I only lost one nymph in the trees. As I left the river trout were rising for midges and I regretted leaving my dry flies at home !

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The mayfly have a civilised life cycle, the nymphs make their way to the surface around noon. The duns flutter into the air and head for the nearest vegetation. The date on which the mayfly season starts is largely determined by the length of daylight hours. Other factors play a minor role. My diary entries record mayfly hatching at Little Springs on 30 April or 1 May consistently for over 10 years. The hatches are later on the Rother and last until late June.

A week earlier my hunt for mayfly had been inconclusive. I thought I had seen a couple of duns but they were too far away to be sure. I arrived at noon and had both lakes to myself. The strong, blustery, west wind made cats paws on the surface and stripped the seeds and pollen from the willow trees. The margins along the east bank were a constantly moving soup of debris, the trout were flashing at ascending nymphs and gulping down emerging mayfly.

I found a lone cowslip near the fishing hut which reminded me of the title pages of BB’s books. I took it as a good omen. The wind assisted my casting, floating the #3 line high on the forward cast enabled me to reach the middle of the lake, close to the feeding frenzy. For an hour the trout rose to my fly, I hooked four and netted only one. The hook pinged out of the other three as I reached for the landing net. I think the acute angle of the 10′ 6″ rod was too much, I should have extended the telescopic landing net handle.

The most successful fly was an extended foam body imitation of a spinner. I spent a while chasing the clouds of spinners to get a closer look until the hatch abruptly ended about 2:00pm. In a couple of weeks the Rother will come to life and I hope to continue fishing the mayfly hatch there.

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A stiff easterly breeze, bright sunshine and a cloudless sky were not ideal weather conditions for trout fishing. I woke up early to see the boys off to school and to feed my furry friend. He stayed at home guarding the house against pesky squirrels.

I left the house and drove south towards Petworth through the school run traffic. I wanted to catch a trout using a mayfly. The start of the mayfly season is triggered mainly by the length of daylight hours. The earliest I had seen mayfly at the lakes was 30 April, St Georges Day was a bit early.

Little Springs was deserted and the trout were cruising in the shadows cast by the oak and lime trees along the east bank. They were gently sipping down the flies, occasionally head and tailing for buzzers. I fed the fly line through the many rings on the #3 10′ 6″ Sage ESN and checked that I hadn’t missed any or twisted the Rio line around the rod. The rod and line are a perfect match although not designed for my style of fishing.

I started with a teal winged mayfly, dropped ahead of cruising fish. It was carefully inspected and rejected by several fish. I changed to a French partridge pattern, that was also rejected. There were lots of Alder flies fluttering in the breeze but few landed in the water. It occurred to me that the fish might be focusing on buzzers but I persevered with a selection of mayflies.

I changed the tippet to 3lb and tied on a size 14 mayfly. Aiming high and ahead of a cruising fish, it fluttered down slowly and produced a positive take. The trout became airborne before running down the lake. It was in fin perfect condition and the fly dropped out of its jaw in the landing net, a perfect release. Job done. As the sun rose, the tree shadows faded and the fish retreated to the deeper water. I followed and missed a few more takes before heading back to the car for breakfast and a Red Bull, my substitute for coffee.

I sat on the bench at Great Springs, flicked a parachute pheasant tail into the wind and watched for a swirl. Tree debris, bud scales and petals, were being blown across the lake towards me and the trout were testing them to see if they were edible. The fish were only a few feet from the bank and I eventually hooked one which wriggled free after a few seconds. Never mind.

The wind and hot sun had exhausted me and I drove away from the lakes in a trance. It was twenty minutes before I realised that I was heading in the wrong direction. I could have caught a few more fish if I had switched to a buzzer but I had achieved my objective and all was well.

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Recent visits to the Devon rivers and Sussex lakes are blurred in my memory. The contrast between the rivers and the lakes was stark as was the fishing but I don’t recall the details.

Devon – I walked the Abbey Beat and admired the water, I didn’t bother with a rod. The walk on the high moor beside the Cad was uplifting. I should have taken a rod.

The Plym was in prime condition, up a few inches and clear water. I took a rod. I anticipated a trout or two but nothing bothered my fly.

The spring scenery was a distraction, the water was cold and nothing hatched.

Large rocks had moved, trees had fallen and been washed into the margins by the winter spates. I saw no fish in the crystal clear water, it was too early in the season.

Sussex – I went to the lakes at Lower Bognor in the knowledge that the deep valley and mature trees would keep the worst of the north wind off the water. The lakes were slightly coloured and there were no signs of trout. I had made up my mind how I was going to fish on the drive south. A single size 14 black buzzer, slow sinking on a light tippet. It seemed overly optimistic to drift such a small insignificant fly across the ruffled lake surface. Surely the fly could not be easily seen.

I missed the first take, I was not concentrating. Over the course of two hours I missed a few takes, connected with four trout and landed three. I was cold and tired and three fish was a good result in poor conditions.

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