Author: Nigel Rainton

Heavy rain yesterday had cleared the air and settled the dust. The temperature was in the mid sixties and the wind was a light north-easterly. A very strange direction for July.

I got to the river about 1:00pm, earlier than planned. I was relieved to see that the water had only risen a couple of inches and was not too coloured. It was humid and thundery but when the clouds parted the sunlight was intense. The air was thick with summer perfumes, butterflies and blue damsel flies. There were thousands of common red Soldier Beetles (Rhagonycha fulva) on the flowers, they seemed to prefer the cow parsley.

I signed in at the Fish Pass and went to have a look at the pool where I had seen a monster sea trout on Monday. The wind was blustery and it made casting tricky. When I eventually got the fly in the water a sea trout shot out from under the Willow, grabbed the fly and zig-zagged around the pool before dropping the fly and disappearing downstream. It all happened so fast, I was unable to react.

The Badgers looked inviting but I resisted the temptation. I moved up to the Long Straight and worked a nymph down and across but the water was too coloured for the trout to see the fly unless it passed very close to them. I persevered, moving upstream but the water was dead. I decided to cut my losses and change to another beat. Somewhere a bit shallower so the fish had a chance to see the fly.

I drove to Keeper’s Bridge and decided to walk downstream, fishing the usual pools until I got to the New Riffle. There were a few fish splashing around in the riffle and in the pool immediately below it but they were not feeding. After thirty minutes of searching the riffle with a Mayfly nymph a fish rose and took a fly in the tail of the pool. I spent about an hour chasing rising fish around the pools but I didn’t get a take. The majority of the splashes were sea trout larking about. Very frustrating.

I walked back towards Keeper’s Bridge, the splashes became more frequent and more violent as the sun went down. I worked hard all the way back to the bridge but I had no response. It had been an interesting afternoon. When the water level drops back to normal it should be possible to find a few sea trout.

Thankfully the heat wave had ended. It was only 70 degrees with high wispy clouds and a cool westerly breeze. I checked the lakes and collected the catch returns. It had been another tough week on the lakes due to the high water temperature. I also visited the river, looking for fish and taking photographs. There was no point fishing until late afternoon, the fish would be hiding from the sun. The intense sunlight reminded me of the south of France. It made the summer colours surreal. I wandered around taking photographs until about 3:00pm when the wind grew stronger and thunder clouds loomed over the Downs.

As I drove towards Little Bognor I stopped at my favourite gateway to look south at the Downs. The view is spectacular in all weathers.

The Environment Agency had finished cutting down the trees around the fish ladder. It has opened up the pool and increased the flow of water. Sea trout run up the centre of each step where the flow is greater.

The wheat beside the top beat was swaying in the wind, the silky waves of grain looked ready for harvest.

I haven’t seen many bees this year. This honey bee was visiting the flowers around Little Springs.

After lunch at Great Springs I drove to the river, stopping frequently on the way to look at the views.  At the top of the rise most of the Rother valley can be seen.

I concentrated on the stretch between the farm track and the Sandy Pool. The Trout I had seen on my last visit were still there. I stood behind the Himalayan Balsam and the nettles which were tall enough to hide me. I tried a nymph but although a fish continually splashed around the pool, I couldn’t get a take. I changed to a Sedge and after a few casts the fish took the fly but managed to wriggle off the hook.

I walked up to the Wide Pool above the old riffle but the sun was on the water and no fish were showing. I walked back and tried all the usual pools. I caught a small wild fish on a nymph at the tail of the Sandy Pool. It was under the weeds along the far bank.

There was a Trout splashing in the pool by the drainage ditch, it took a GRHE nymph and weighed about 1lb 8ozs. I returned the fish and decided to stop fishing. I was dehydrated, hot and tired. It had been a long day and I had walked too far in the hot sun.

The temperature was over 80 degrees and the southerly wind blew thunderclouds across the English Channel. There was no point in fishing until late afternoon, I would become dehydrated and tired for the evening rise.

I had tied a few Gold Ribbed Hare’s Ear nymphs to replace those lost in the trees. I used fine copper wire for the ribbing as it’s not so flashy as gold. Hare’s Ears are not part of my fly tying kit, I used rabbit instead. The fly should be lightly dressed and fuzzy with loose guard hairs to simulate the nymph’s legs and breathers. Definitely no brass or tungsten bead, the ribbing wire is sufficient weight.

I met my guest, Johnathan, at The Badgers and we drove to Keeper’s Bridge. The middle beats had been very productive while I was on holiday in Dorset and I hoped that we would see a few good Trout after sunset. At this time last year I needed a jacket while fishing at the lakes. The river was high, coloured and unfishable.

I went upstream, Jonathan went downstream. I started just above the farm track, in the shade of an Alder tree. I allowed the nymph to drift down and across a gentle flow. I saw a vague shape wander down the middle of the pool and turn towards me, it looked like a good size Trout. I cast above it and as I drew the fly towards the fish, it rose up in the water and I saw the white of it’s mouth opening. I lifted gently and surprised the fish which hung in the water for a couple of seconds then shot into the tree roots. After much pulling and rod bending the fly came back. How do they do that ? It’s tree hugging tactics suggested a Chub, Trout splash about before they run. The pool was toast but I heard a fish rise downstream, near the drainage ditch. I moved down, flicked the fly across the pool and had a take just as I was starting to lift the rod for the next cast. It was a Trout of about two pounds which had been hooked right in the tip of it’s upper jaw.

My confidence was growing as I sat down beside the tail of the Sandy Pool. While I checked the tippet and nymph for damage, I saw a fish rise. It splashed again, upstream near a tree branch. A minute later it rose in the centre of the pool. It was probably a sea trout making its way upstream. I had a swirling rise from a good fish but I lifted the rod too soon.

I moved up to the pool with the overhanging tree and a bush on my right. I cast at an angle and at the last moment, flicked the rod to bend the line around under the tree. One particularly good cast landed the fly well upstream and close to the near bank. A fish took the nymph and immediately dashed upstream. It kept going, paused and then went on another long run. I resigned myself to losing a good fish, probably a three pounder. I put an alarming bend in the rod and the fish turned, it came back down the centre of the river. As it passed me it jumped clear of the water and I saw it was a sea trout between one and two pounds. Then the hook fell out. Rats. I laughed and sat down behind the stinging nettles to contemplate. Was it the fish I had seen earlier?

It was incredibly hot and the insect repellent wasn’t doing what it said on the tin. I found a breeze and strolled back towards Keeper’s Bridge. A fish rose below the Sandy Pool and took my nymph on the second cast. I lifted too soon and the fish dived away in disgust. At 6:00pm we retired to the shelter of the trees beside the old railway bridge for a drink and to compare notes. Refreshed, we returned to the same beats for the evening rise. Lots of fish were showing around Keeper’s Bridge so I swapped the nymph for a size 14 Adams and covered several fish. The presentation was not good enough. The fish saw the tippet.

Eventually, under the big Alder tree, a fish swirled at the fly but I was looking at something else. Below the bridge several fish were rising to midges. My Adams was inspected and consistently rejected. I tied on a parachute ginger sedge and had a good take but failed to connect. Jonathan caught a nice trout on a large black dry fly. I missed several more takes before we adjourned to The Badgers for a life saving pint of Fuller’s. A taster for tomorrow’s family gathering at the Griffin Brewery, Chiswick.

On the return journey from a holiday in Dorset, I found myself in Stockbridge. It was a convenient place to stop, have lunch and look over the bridge spanning the River Test. I saw a brace of fish taking nymphs from under the newly cut weed. The trout were enormous, each fish looked well over 6lb. The Orvis shop had a ‘Sale’ on. Not fishing tackle, shirts. I had never visited Robjent’s tackle shop. Big mistake. Particularly as it’s just across the road from Orvis. It’s a proper fishing tackle shop run by friendly and knowledgeable anglers. They bullied me into buying a new fly line. I had used Cortland lines for several decades. My reluctance to buy another brand was obvious. The purchase of a Rio fly line was concluded with an agreement that I would write and let the proprietor know if I hated it.

I liked the colour of the line, weed green. The coating felt supple and the core of the line was white braid. Excellent. It didn’t have a welded loop at the business end, no need to cut it off. The running line felt stiffer than the body of the line but that might have been my imagination. I had been told to stretch the entire line before loading it on the reel. I fixed it to the garden fence and gave it a good pull, several times. There were a couple of small blemishes in the line. I could feel the difference in the coating between the main body and the tip of the line. Rio claim the coating on the tip makes it float higher.

I superglued a Greys copolymer nine foot tapered leader into the exposed core of the tip. The 7lb leader was a bit heavy, I’ll use 5lb next time. A couple of short casts on the lawn felt odd, I would have to test it on the river.

After the regular 10:00am meeting to discuss the previous week’s catch returns, I went to the river at Keeper’s Bridge. I tackled up ensuring that I didn’t miss any rod rings. The first few casts under an Alder tree were accurate and I was impressed with how softly the line landed. I’d underlined the rod with an AFTM #3 hoping for more delicate presentation. The profile was Weight Forward with an extended front taper. A Robjent’s Chalkstream special design.

I visited some of the pools that require a more demanding cast and with each cast I became more confident. I saw a fish rise upstream alongside a bush. The cast was into a strong westerly wind, it would be an excellent test of the line. I used a weighted GRHE nymph and gradually worked the fly further up the pool, extending line into the wind. After several casts, to my surprise, the fish took but I lifted the line too soon. I was a bit out of touch after a ten day break from the river. I moved downstream to the Overhanging Tree. I could not bend the line under the tree into the wind, the tip was too light. I saw a fish rise but I couldn’t interest the trout in my nymph. Another trout, on the bend above the Cow Drink, followed the nymph, creating a bow wave but sheered away when I induced the take. I explored the New Riffle and the next pool down but found nothing.

On the way back to Keeper’s Bridge I stopped where a trout had risen earlier and swapped the nymph for a size 14 Adams with the hackle trimmed off. It looked good. The trout took it confidently and put up a spirited fight. I returned the fish and continued upstream. A fish rose close to my bank so I lowered a Mayfly over the rushes and gently onto the water. The trout did not respond, it had probably seen me. I walked upstream to the Sandy Pool but I couldn’t find another fish.

The new line had performed well. No memory, delicate presentation and it floated nicely without any dressing. I had a couple of tip splashdowns when I pushed the line too hard. I found it harder to judge distance because I couldn’t see the line during the cast. On balance, the enhanced presentation outweighs any minor issues. I won’t need to write to Mr Robjent.

Yesterday was the longest day, the Summer Solstice. It was also the hottest day of the year. The BBC ‘officially’ declared a heat wave after six consecutive days of temperatures over ninety degrees. Much too hot for day time fishing. Overnight the weather had  changed to thunderstorms and hail. A midday temperature of only seventy two degrees was less debilitating. The strong westerly wind tried to cool things down but failed.

I had been disabled for a few days by the heat and an insect bite that had made my rod hand swell up. A late evening session on the river searching for a big brown would be a great end to the week. When I arrived at the river I went to see the work the Environment Agency had carried out on the fish pass. The trees around the fish ladder had been cut down to protect the concrete structures.

I fished the weir pool with a weighted nymph but after thirty minutes I’d had no response so I moved up to the long straight. I worked a weighted Black Nymph down and across the long straight and it wasn’t long before a trout took the fly. It flashed at the fly before the leader moved and I lifted into the fish. It came unstuck after a few seconds and was probably foul-hooked. I fished the rest of the pool but had no takes.

I walked and fished all the way to Rotherbridge but I didn’t see any trout.  As I was sitting on the grass wondering whether or not to walk further upstream, a trout rose under the big Alder tree. I cast a dry fly over the fish but it showed no interest. I persevered but to no effect. I walked downstream to where the tree line started and found two good fish taking flies under the trees. I sat down and shuffled forwards so that I could see the nearest fish clearly. It was moving around and sipping down midges. Luckily there was a clear slot in the trees and I flicked my dry fly through the gap to land near the far bank. The trout found the fly and took it without hesitation. I returned the fish and then looked for the other trout but it had disappeared.

That fish boosted my confidence and I continued downstream, keeping well back from the river, looking for rising fish. I saw two or three fish rising in the middle of a tree tunnel. Moreover, the stinging nettles were head high. I used the landing net to press some of the nettles aside and crushed the stems underfoot to make a little nettle cave. I had to cast with my arms held high.

I lobbed a dry fly over the nettles but I couldn’t see where it landed. A fish swirled and I lifted the rod. It was hooked and while I struggled with that trout another fish continued to rise under the trees. I returned the fish in another pool and crept back into the nettles to see if the second fish was still rising.  It was still there but a bit further down under the trees on my side of the river.  I threw caution to the wind, cast a long line and let the fly swing across the current. The trout rose to the fly but I was impatient and I lifted too soon. I expected to see more rising fish as I walked back to the fish pass but there were none. A small fish rose at the end of the weir pool but it was not interested in my fly. It was a cool drive home, thankfully.