Author: Nigel Rainton

The weather over the Bank Holiday weekend had been odd, extreme heat and bright sunshine then thunderstorms. I made the usual Monday morning visit to discuss the catch returns for the lakes and river. The river level at Halfway Bridge had risen from 0.026m to 0.064m as a result of 22mm off overnight rain. At 9:30am I could see the sandy bottom at Rotherbridge but an hour later it was obscured, the river was still rising. The shallows at Ladymead were unfishable, the only place I thought might be worth fishing was the new riffle.

I started at the top of the riffle and worked my way down covering the whole pool with a pale coloured leaded nymph. It would be visible in the muddy water. By continually mending the line I was able to keep the fly trundling down the deeper runs. There was no response. I returned to the top of the pool and changed to a black fly. I had a toffee before working the pool again. Towards the end of the riffle, in midstream, there was a satisfying thump on the rod which remained bent in an alarming hoop as the fish kept deep in the fast water. I saw a flash of silver and immediately thought “sea trout”.  However, there was no jumping or thrashing about and I revised my thoughts. It was a chub. I beached the fish and unhooked it in the water. It had a few scales missing, probably from spawning. There was little point in moving to another pool. I rested the main flow and fished just above the bend. After twenty minutes the line drew taught and I hooked a trout. It was an opportunity to use my landing net with the ‘new’ extending, three metre handle. It worked beautifully and made returning the fish safer. No more teetering on the edge of a high bank.

There were lots of Mayfly hatching so I changed to a dry fly and covered several rising fish. I didn’t grease the fly or tippet and the fly hung just below the surface. I only had one take but I was distracted by a chaffinch fluttering around, chasing it’s lunch. I looked back at the river to see the leader stop moving and the swirl widening.

I had been lucky with the weather. The rain had been evaporating from my shirt at about the same rate as it fell. Behind me a large dark cloud was growing along the ridge of the South Downs, it was time to leave. I drove to Great Springs and had a cup of tea. I had mistakenly left the landing net on the roof of the Land Rover when I left Rotherbridge but it survived the journey.  The water looked dark and lifeless. A few fish were jumping, not feeding. I fished a dry fly for a while but had no takes. The water temperature was 21 degrees, rainbow trout don’t like warm water. After a final cuppa I drove away through a warm mist rising from the fields. Although it was only 5:00pm I had to use the headlights, very odd weather.

I thought that the Mayfly would be hatching in swarms. The temperature and bright sunshine would surely encourage them to leave the water. I was wrong. It was much too hot and sunny. The hottest day of the year so far, 28 degrees. There were a few Mayfly hatching but not enough to coax the trout from under the streamer weed and tree roots.

I decided to concentrate on the pools around Keeper’s Bridge because on Tuesday evening I had seen lots of trout greedily taking Mayfly. Tuesday was overcast. I sat on the mown grass below the bridge where I could see about two hundred yards of the river. I thought that I was going to wait a long time before a fish revealed itself. Not so, there was a rise just a short cast upstream. I had tied some delicate parachute Mayfly using white foam for the body and hackle post. They looked convincing. I flicked one at the trout which was rising alongside an overhanging bush. It stopped rising.

I moved downstream and found a good fish rising in a completely inaccessible pool. I saw a group of fish in the pool immediately above the new riffle. Mark had a 3lb 8oz sea trout below the riffle on Tuesday evening and had seen several more. I flicked a black nymph towards the biggest fish. The cast was short. I flicked it out again and shot some line. The leader curled over and the fly landed close to the big one.  It took the fly and snapped the line with ease. I walked back to Keeper’s Bridge and visited the Land Rover for a drink and consolation banana.

I settled down to wait by the Alder trees opposite the footpath through the woods. A fish rose and I covered it with a Mayfly. It responded but I was too quick with the strike. I rested the fish but it would not rise again.  I walked upstream to the Sandy Pool but there were no fish. I was hot, dehydrated and tired. Too tired for the pub.

During the morning I toured the lakes and the river collecting the catch returns and chatting to other members. Mayfly were hatching everywhere. By 2:00pm the sun had burnt off the clouds leaving only wispy bits, high in a deep blue sky. Very Mediterranean. It was extremely hot and the gentle breeze was downstream,  not very helpful. The water level had dropped after the inch of rain last Wednesday but the water was still slightly coloured. I drove to Keeper’s Bridge and tackled up under the silver birch. It was too hot for fishing. I walked very slowly downstream looking for trout. I hoped that, like the trout,  I could find shelter under the Alder trees.

There were no fish rising so I explored under the bushes and alongside the streamer weed with a black nymph. After three or four bushes a trout grabbed the fly and sulked on the bottom. I thought it had snagged me but a long steady lift with the rod bought the fish up in the water and the usual tearing around and splashing commenced.  It was about 2lb and had a small scar from a cormorant. Filled with confidence I made my way down to the new riffle, stopping to explore under every tree along the far bank. Nothing. The riffle looked good but I couldn’t get a take. I fished my way back to Keeper’s Bridge and found a rising fish under the alder trees just below the bridge. I tied on a Mayfly with a white Neoprene body and presented it carefully just upstream of the trout. It took first cast but got off. Rats. I judged a cast badly and lost the entire leader in a tree. I hadn’t bothered to replace a badly worn joint before I left home. The bodged needle knot did nothing to improve presentation.

I sat and watched the river for a while. Then I sheltered from the sun on the edge of the wood, keeping an eye on the water.  Jerome arrived and went downstream. I saw two fish rise opposite me about twenty yards apart. Definitely not the same fish. I watched the upstream fish. It rose under a tree branch and delicately sipped down a newly hatched Mayfly. Several times. I crawled towards the fish Indian style, sliding the last few yards on my side. The first cast was short, the second cast was perfect. The trout rose and accepted my imitation. I hustled the fish into the landing net trying not to disturb the downstream trout.

After I had released the trout I stood back from the waters edge in the tree line and waited for trout Number 2. It didn’t show. Jerome and I walked upstream looking for another target but found nothing. We returned to trout Number 2 and on the third cast I induced a take by twitching the Mayfly. Jerome netted the fish and released it. We will return tomorrow and swap roles. It had been another very long, hot and exhausting day. It had been fun.

The river had risen two feet and was unfishable. I visited every lake and checked the catch returns. Trout were rising all over Little Springs,  that would be too easy. I decided to fish Great Springs and use only dry flies. That would be a fairer contest. I watched the lake while having a cup of tea and chatting to a couple of members. There were a few Mayfly about but the trout were taking buzzers. The lazy head and tail rises were a dead give away. I walked around the lake to the point and sat on the seat. Trout were cruising along the edge of the marginal weeds and sipping down tiny flies. They were relaxed and confident because the weeds provided cover as well as food. While watching the trout I noticed one of the big blues in the centre of the lake.  It was cruising with a purpose, not dashing about. Obviously feeding. I decided to target them. Blue trout are rainbows that have been selectively bred to remove the red colouration, leaving them a silvery blue.

The lake had been stocked with three big blues a few weeks ago and two giants, both nearly 10lbs, last week. They had acclimatised quickly. I tied on a dry buzzer with a tag of white Neoprene foam to suspend it in the surface film. I thoroughly degreased the tippet with Tetenal Mirasol and cast the line so that it sat on the weeds. That way I had a decent length of line already extended but hidden from the trout. I sat and waited. It was a long wait, I resisted the numerous smaller fish rising around me. After twenty minutes I saw a blue trout in the centre of the lake, well out of casting range. With Polaroids it was easy to keep track of the fish. Eventually it moved towards me. I aerialised as much line as I could manage and dropped the fly about a yard away from the trout. To my surprise it tilted up and took the fly. I pulled the fly out of it’s mouth and then cursed. Repeatedly.

It was a great opportunity wasted. The fish swirled but didn’t appear spooked. It disappeared. I sat and watched the water again. Half an hour later I saw another blue cruising right to left, into the breeze, taking flies off the surface. It was at the limit of my casting range. I double hauled and cast high for wind assistance. The fly settled on the surface and the fish changed direction towards it. An unseen rainbow dashed past the blue and grabbed the fly. It’s antics put the other trout down. I rested the fish while taking a few photos.

When I next saw a blue trout it was moving from the main body of the lake along a channel in the weeds towards the shallows. It was feeding but well out of range.  I put the line on the top of the weeds and waited. The trout moved back along the channel, I lifted off and cast as far as possible. The fish approached the fly, rose in the water and gulped it down. I lifted the rod. The trout thrashed on the surface and I bent the carbon fibre to it’s test curve. I kept the pressure on the trout to get it in clear water. It weighed 3lb 6oz, one of the smaller blues. It started to rain heavily so I went for another cuppa. After an hour of watching the rain I left the lakes. It had been an interesting afternoon, next week I might try targeting the remaining blues if the river level doesn’t drop.

The weather was disappointing for mid-May. Grey, damp and with a strong south-westerly wind. I went to the top beats as they hadn’t been fished for a week. The fish would be relaxed. The big pool at Ladymead looked great but there was a lot of debris from the trees floating down the main current. I favoured a nymph, a dry fly would be hard for the trout to see amongst the leaves and seeds. There was nothing in the run under the near bank but my first cast to the top of the sand bank provoked a response. A good fish charged across the sand and took the fly. It fought hard for a few seconds and then threw the hook. The disturbance ruined the pool but as I turned to leave another fish jumped. I would return later.

I walked down to the Shallow Pool, there’s always a fish there. I started at the top of the pool and covered the deep run under my bank. Nothing. I flicked the fly near to the far bank and let it drift down and across. The Black Nymph was weighted and was probably dragging the bottom. On the second cast a big bow wave built up behind the fly and as I lifted into the fish there was a satisfying thump on the rod. It was a wild fish about 1lb and in pristine condition. The prettiest trout I have caught from the Rother.

I tried the pools further down the beat but despite the large numbers of Mayfly that were hatching, I couldn’t find another fish. Time to return to Ladymead. I thought my first cast to the head of the pool would produce a response but there was nothing. I walked back to the Land Rover and drove to Keeper’s Bridge to take a few photos. I saw a couple of newly stocked trout splashing about.

I saw a fly hatch from midstream and settle on a nettle leaf. It was a very small specimen and I wondered if it might be an Olive. It had three tails and was therefore a male Mayfly. It posed for photos, sheltering against the wind in a curled up leaf. It gradually climbed out of the leaf and flew away. A chaffinch ate it.

Alder flies were crawling everywhere. I found one on the bridge rail. It was easy prey for a passing bird. There were no swallows along the river, very strange.

I left the river and drove to Great Springs for a walk around the lakes and a cup of tea. There were thousands of male Mayfly spinners, rising and falling in columns around the fishing hut. There were columns of spinners along the banks and under the trees. I caught several in a net and then found one hiding under a daisy. The trout were queueing up downwind of the oak bench. Spinners were falling on the grass and into the water.

I will return to the river on Thursday. Hopefully the weather will improve and encourage the trout to rise.