Author: Nigel Rainton

The day started with a cold, dry north wind and a baby blue sky. Only seven degrees Centigrade, it was definitely a big coat day. On the drive to Petworth the sky clouded over but when I arrived the influence of the sea and the South Downs had cleared away most of the clouds. It was a bright Autumn day again.

I could only fish at Springs or Little Bognor, the other lakes were closed. I visited Little Bognor and looked in the feeder stream for the Trout I had annoyed during my last visit. It was still there, occasionally swirling in the shallow water. I would return later, the fish would be more likely to take a fly at dusk.

I drove to Lower Figgs to see what progress had been made on restoring the lake. Two monster diggers were gulping silt and clay, removing the weed beds and sculpting the banks. It looked very impressive.

As I drove along the Estate road the sheep were relaxing on the tarmac. On top of the hill the track temperature was a lot higher than seven degrees. I had coffee and chocolate biscuits at Great Springs. Both lakes looked lifeless and the cold wind channeled straight down the valley. It was too cold to fish there. I returned to the shelter of Little Bognor and set up my rod with a Cortland line I had customised. I had devised a ‘long tip nymphing special’ from the back end of a Weight Forward line incorporating a bit of running line. Just like my Rio line but a nice peach colour. It was a ‘Weight Backward’. I used a ten foot leader, a three foot tippet and a small black spider with a crimson hackle. I stood well back from the waters edge and covered all the margins and the inlet stream without a response. A fish swirled on my right but it ignored the fly. I swapped the fly for a size 14 GRHE and it ignored that as well. The  4lb bs tippet was probably a bit heavy but I decided to keep it because the lake held some big brownies and it would be a shame to lose a good fish.

Trout were moving along the south bank so I crept round the lake and watched. They were cruising along the marginal band of floating leaves taking something small. I stood at the back of the grassy slope and cast so that only the leader dropped into the water, the fly line rested on the leaves. Several Trout were patrolling and I was confident that I would catch one.

As I stood watching and waiting for a fish to rise I could feel the frost creeping along my shoulders. The top of my head was getting cold. A fish rose infront of me and I dropped the fly into the ripples. I waited a few seconds and lifted the rod. The Trout swirled at the fly but did not take. Dusk arrived early in the woods. As I got colder the pain in my right hand and arm was a distraction. I drove away with the Land Rover’s heater on full. It didn’t work. The sunset was spectacular but by the time I reached my favourite gateway at Riverhill, the sun had just disappeared below the hills. I should have left ten minutes earlier.

My Weight Backward line was a revelation. I had given it a couple of extreme stretches to remove the memory and the cold water made it stiff but it was excellent at short range. It will be interesting to see how it compares with the Rio on the river next season.

The river season ended last week. I planned to fish the lakes a few times before they close at the end of November. The Trout in the lakes have seen hundreds of flies and disappear as soon as a fly line floats overhead. Time for a long leader, a fine tippet and small flies.

Last night there was a full moon, a clear sky and the first heavy frost of the Autumn. The morning sky was bright blue and the puddles were frozen, a bad combination for fishing. There were clouds of midges under the trees which made fly selection a lot easier.

I had an excellent lunch. A mug of coffee, chocolate cake and Christmas cake. I drove to Great Springs and looked around. While I was admiring the Autumn colours and chatting, another member arrived and started fishing Little Springs. Two is a crowd and I decided to spend a couple of hours at Little Bognor with the ultra fussy Trout. The Oak trees along the lanes had retained their leaves and the fields had been harrowed revealing the pink sandy soil. Reminiscent of Herefordshire. The ground looked very dry. I arrived at 3:00pm and as I parked the Land Rover, a fish was feeding a few feet from the bank at the shallow end. The surface of the lake was covered with Beech and Chestnut leaves which gave the Trout shelter and confidence.

I quietly set up my rod and stood well back from the water. I had a twelve foot leader and a 2lb tippet. I chose a size 14 parachute buzzer and flicked it towards the corner of the lake where a fish was swirling around. Only the leader landed on the water, the fly line rested on the short grass. I hooked a leaf with the first cast and a twig with the second. The fish was not impressed and moved away.

A good fish swirled under the far bank of the inlet stream. I cast gently and hauled out another twig. Things were going badly. I stood and watched the water, a small fish was rising frequently, taking buzzers just under the surface. My cast was a bit short but the leader moved and I lifted into a spirited wild Trout. It was a perfectly formed, dark coloured fish which weighed about 12ozs. It recovered quickly and dashed away from the landing net. I moved away from the lake and rested the fish.

After twenty minutes a fish swirled under the trees in the corner on my right. I stayed away from that corner and put the fly about ten feet from the bank. Nothing happened so I slowly lifted the rod, it felt heavy. There was a tug, a big swirl and the Trout bow-waved into the middle of the lake. Unfortunately it was not attached to my line. The fish had seized the fly gently and I hadn’t seen the take. I had just annoyed it. Bad luck, it was a good fish.

I had been at the lake for an hour and my casting arm was painful, the cold air and rising mist were unhelpful. I stopped at Riverhill on the way home and watched the sun drop below the South Downs. It had been a lovely day of Autumn colours, clear skies and rising fish. The sunset was a fitting end to the day.

I watched the water level over the weekend hoping the river would drop before the last day of the season. On Monday the wind had been from the north, cold and dry. Tuesday was warm, overcast and with a gentle south westerly wind. Just as it should be. I wanted to visit each part of the river but I didn’t have the time or stamina to walk three miles in muddy boots.  It would be nice to catch a Trout on the last day but it was not essential.

I took the Land Rover for an MOT and was a bit miffed when it failed. Nevermind, I drove to Petworth via Kirdford along roads I’d never seen before. It was a nice drive along narrow country lanes bordered by mature trees in various shades of orange. I stocked up on toffees at Northchapel and drove to the Fish Pass. Another member had beaten me to it but I found a large fish in the tail run on a patch of sand opposite a feeder stream. I drove to Rotherbridge and looked upstream. A couple of small Trout were feeding among the dying streamer weeds. They were probably looking for shrimps. I returned to the Fish Pass to find it deserted, the large Trout was still in the run accompanied by another fish twice it’s size. A big black monster of a Sea Trout. The Monster saw me and disappeared upstream. The other fish ignored my carefully positioned Black Nymph. Several times. Eventually it became agitated and followed the Monster upstream into the roots of an Alder tree. I decided to rest the fish and return to the run at sunset.

I went back to Rotherbridge but three other members were fishing both beats so I turned around and drove to Keeper’s Bridge. Hurrah, it was quiet and the catch returns told me the Beats had not been fished that morning. I went downstream and saw a fish swirl just below the Alder. I crept along the bank until I was just below the fish and flicked my last Black Nymph upstream and across. On the second cast the leader snaked away as the Trout took the fly. It put up a spirited fight, looked about 1lb 4ozs and dashed away from the landing net. It was happy to be back in the cold water. I was also happy, I’d caught a fish on the final day of the season. I had a toffee and walked on.

I fished a few pools without any response and started to lose concentration. The big pool below the Alder tree on the bend looked good. I lost my last Black Nymph in the tree and tied on a weighted Black Spider with a bright red palmered hackle. After a few casts I was distracted by the mew of a Buzzard but just as I looked away I noticed the line tighten and lifted into a better fish. It was about 1lb 8ozs and nicely coloured. I nearly fell into the water while netting the fish. The bank had collapsed during the recent floods.

I thought the two fish were sufficient but I was also conscious that it would be five months before I could fish the river again. One more cast. I walked through the tree tunnel and stopped below the last tree. The bank was covered with teasel and casting was tricky. I was confident there would be a fish under the bushes and several casts later a big fish flashed under the leader. I drew the line tight and the fish went berserk. It was bright silver and I was sure it was a sea trout. It took a lot of line and buried itself in the sunken branches on my right. I didn’t panic and netted the fish at the first attempt. It was a very silver stocked brownie about 2lb.

I was content with three fish so I walked slowly back to the Land Rover. The river, fields and woods looked lovely in the misty overcast. The clocks had changed and the light was failing as I drove away. It had been an excellent afternoon. The river had been kind to me all season. The fish had been fussy on occasions but not impossible. If we have another mild winter a lot of the fish should survive and put on weight.

Last week’s extreme weather kept me away from the river. The tail end of a hurricane, red dust from the desert and a rain storm heralded the arrival of half-term week. The river level had reached 0.130m on Sunday, the highest level since March. I looked at the river as I crossed Coultershaw Bridge and as I suspected, it was unfishable. Zero visibility and a strong current.

After visiting the lakes and the river to collect the catch returns, I drove to Little Bognor. The Hunt had passed through the woods earlier and the hounds had used the lower lake as a swimming pool. Despite the disturbance a few Trout were rising. Not splashing about or leaping but slow head-and-tail rises. A few tiny midges were buzzing around in the damp Autumn air. There were just enough of them to be annoying. As I’d seen several rises at the southern end of the lower lake I decided to fish there, in the corner near the overflow.

After only a few casts I snagged the leader and it snapped off. Completely. That’s the third time I have done that this season. Rather than mess about with an improvised needle knot I walked back to the Land Rover and changed my reel. I hadn’t used the Cortland line for several months and I was interested to compare it with the Rio line I am testing. I tied the leader to the door handle and stretched the first fifteen yards of the fly line. It felt crude and stiff but I could see it in the air and on the water. I stood well back and fished the deep water close to the wall, gradually working further out. A fish swirled but ignored the fly. I changed my small Black Nymph for a small GRHE nymph and cast to several rising Trout but they ignored that as well.

I moved to the other corner, under the Chestnut trees, where I had seen a fish move. The water was crystal clear and flat calm. I had the feeling that fish were inspecting the fly but we’re spooked. I changed to a 2lb bs tippet but it made no difference.

I walked up the slope to the top lake and saw fish rising amongst the floating Chestnut leaves. They seemed to be feeding underneath the leaf rafts. I started by dropping the fly close to the clusters of leaves. A Trout followed the fly but sheared away. I cast across the leaves and let the leader sink through them. There were several Trout close to the fly and I was confident of a take but nothing happened. I saw a good fish close to the weeds near the inlet stream and flicked the fly in it’s path. There was a big swirl but the leader didn’t move. I pulled the fly and induced another swirl but no take.

I worked the area around the Willow tree but without success. It was damp and chilly, my arm was hurting and I decided to leave. I think the Rio line has the edge. Presentation is good and it has no memory. The Fox Illusion fluorocarbon is a good leader material, it also has no memory and sinks like a stone. A good combination.

The river looked perfect. The current was normal and the water had a lovely olive green tint. The sun shone and the breeze was warm, the scene was set for a lovely afternoon stroll along the river bank. Hopefully the Trout would join me. I decided to visit the places that I could rely on to produce a fish, the bushes and weed beds that always hide a Trout. I started fishing by the broken gate, below the big Willow bush. I chose a weighted Black Nymph, it usually does the trick. After a few casts the leader stopped drifting and slowly dipped, a very delicate take. I lifted gently and the Trout shot off down the pool and into some dead rushes on the far bank. The Trout was about twenty yards away. It dashed back across the river into the rushes on my side. I eased the fish into midstream and carefully played it out, gradually bringing it upstream to the landing net. It was about 2lb and coloured like a Leopard. I nursed the fish in the net and eventually it swirled away into the weeds. I munched on some chocolate to celebrate while watching the river. No Trout revealed themselves, just the occasional Dace.

My next stop was the pool below the big Alder tree, I caught several fish there in the Summer. Everything went to plan. After several casts the leader moved slightly and another Trout fought hard to avoid the net. The second fish was smaller, about 1lb 8ozs, but was coloured like a Char. It revived quickly and dashed away from the landing net as I was trying to take it’s photo. I had only being fishing for an hour and had caught two good Trout. Two gentle takes had been converted into two fish, 100% success.

I thought the fast water in the run below the Sandy Pool would produce a fish but although I concentrated hard, I didn’t get a take. I left the Sandy Pool for later, with the sun behind me I would have created a shadow on the water. The pools by the gaps in the trees didn’t produce a fish. I only hooked the tree once. I tried the fast, deep water below the Old Riffle but as usual, there was no response from the Trout. I’ve spent hours at that pool this year. One day I’ll get a fish there. I walked beyond the riffle to the Wide Pool. I managed to tangle the fly line around a thorn bush and destroyed any chance of a take while untangling the green knitting. I had a token cast but I knew it was a waste of time, the Trout had long gone.

As I walked downstream I remembered that a fish usually hid under the tree in the fast water just above the lip of the Old Riffle. It was quite a long cast but just as I had hoped, the leader twitched and Trout number three was hooked. It was a small, wild fish but it fought hard and was immaculate, fin perfect. It was quite fat and beautifully coloured. Quite different to the previous fish. Three takes, three fish.

By the time I got back to the Sandy Pool the sun had disappeared. I worked the entire pool down and across, expecting a bang on the rod at any moment. It didn’t happen but just as I was reeling in the line to change pools, there was a rattle on the rod tip and I missed Trout number four. I walked downstream to the bridge and saw a fish rise next to a bush. I had a cast or two but left the fish for another member.

It had been a good afternoon. The colours on the different strains of Trout were amazing. It was comforting that I knew the regular lies of the Trout but it will all be different next season. The winter floods will rearrange the sandy river bed and rip out some of the weeds and bushes. It will all have to be learnt again.