Author: Nigel Rainton

The weather had changed, a warm breeze, some high wispy clouds and bright sunshine. No need for the Barbour jacket. I knew exactly where I was going to fish. On the last trip I had pulled a dry fly out of the mouth of a good fish. I checked the signing-in book at Keeper’s Bridge. The fish had not been caught. I walked down through the woods, the bluebells were just starting to fade but the wood anemones and wild garlic were in full bloom.

I walked downstream keeping an eye on the river but not casting. The sun beat down on the water and there was only a slight upstream ripple. Just enough to help me position the fly. I crept around the Alder tree and peered over the marginal nettles. No sign of life. I decided to start with a nymph. I thought the trout would be hiding under the bushes. There was a long branch across the river about three feet off the water. The other side of the branch the main flow ran alongside a bush. Petals from the Hawthorn trees floated past the bush. I cast sideways under the branch and flicked the rod tip to curl the leader around. By a miracle I consistently avoided the branch.

After twenty minutes a trout swirled at the nymph just as I was lifting off for the next cast. I changed the GRHE nymph for an Olive nymph and cast again. The fish rose close to me and took a small fly off the surface. Ten minutes later it rose again. I persisted with the nymph and eventually had a take. The trout charged around but I lead it downstream and netted it. It was about 1lb 8ozs,  not the fish I had seen on the previous trip !

The pool was trashed so I walked down to the riffle. I had a ‘rattle’ first cast, probably a small wild fish. As I was casting I heard a good fish rise and turned to see the ripples in the deep pool above the riffle. I sneaked through a gap in the bushes and saw a shoal of about ten big fish under the far bank. They were quite deep and I thought they looked like sea trout. I had to roll cast the nymph. It landed near one of the shadows, the shadow followed but then turned away. I changed to a Black Nymph and managed to roll the line out so the nymph plopped down amongst the shoal. One of the smaller fish charged at the fly and grabbed it. I expected fireworks but when I lifted the rod, the fish struggled a bit and then gave up. It was a chub. Three others followed it to the net. It was in stunning condition and weighed about 3lb 8ozs. Some of it’s companions were double the size.

I moved upstream about fifty yards and worked the nymph down and across alongside a row of trees.  After a few casts there was a solid take and a small fish dashed around like a Mackerel, the silver flashes and skittering fight suggested a sea trout. It took several yards of line but when I got it in the net it only weighed about 6ozs. I wondered what a big sea trout would do.

The sun was very hot and I didn’t have the energy to carry on. It had been a short but productive day. I had hoped a lot of Mayfly would be hatching. I will return one evening next week and wait for dusk.

I left home early for our regular Monday morning meeting to discuss the catch returns for the river and lakes. I peeped through the bars at Rotherbridge and saw a trout rising amongst the trees. After degreasing the tippet I flicked a nymph into a low hanging tree branch and pulled for a break. The fish disappeared. Another trout rose slightly further downstream and after several casts took the GRHE nymph. It screamed off down the river but after a very determined battle, it found the back of the net. It was about 1lb 8ozs and swam away strongly. A good start to the day.

I drove to Great Springs and had a cup of tea while watching the fish rise, there were very few birds about. The Mayfly were not hatching but I saw a few Olives. I found a male Mayfly spinner posing for me on a bluebell in the gusty wind. I went pond dipping in both lakes to see if the weed removal had reduced the numbers of upwinged flies.

I found lots of daphnia, hog louse, corixa, olive and damsel nymphs. Even a tiny fresh water mussel. The numbers in each lake were similar, the weed removal and treatment in the top lake doesn’t seem to have affected the pond life. The lakes were all stocked while I was messing about.

After another cup of tea I drove back to the river and had lunch at Keeper’s Bridge. The North wind was gusting upstream and it was difficult to cast but once the fly was in the water, the wind helped reduce drag. The river looked lifeless, no fish rising and no flies hatching.  As I walked towards the new riffle I found several pools where the Mayfly were coming off but there were no fish rising.

I sat on the grass for half an hour. The bend in the river enabled me to watch about a hundred yards of water in each direction. Nothing. I wandered down to the new riffle, there were lots of Mayfly and Yellow May hatching.

The wind was helping the Mayfly to dry their wings and lift them off the surface of the water. There were very few birds about so most of them made it to shelter. I didn’t see any swallows. I walked to Rotherbridge and found a fish rising just below the big Hawthorn tree on the far bank. It took a dry Pheasant Tail and the bright silver dashing around immediately told me it was a sea trout smolt. There were several rising in the pool opposite the farm but I couldn’t tempt another fish.

I went back to the riffle, there were several fish rising but not to my fly. I swapped it for an Adams,  my ‘go to’ fly when the fish are difficult. Andrew arrived in his Land Rover on the far bank and photographed me as I hooked another sea trout smolt.  I worked the pools below the riffle but the fish were spooked by my casting.

I made my way back to Keeper’s Bridge and saw lots of fish rising, mainly small trout. I eventually found a big fish sipping down Mayfly in midstream under a tree branch. It was a tricky side cast that needed a twitch to the left as the leader curled over. Miraculously I didn’t hook the branch. The fish came up slowly,  opened it’s mouth and gulped the fly down. I lifted the fly out of it’s mouth and laughed loudly at my incompetence. Frustrating.  The fish will be there tomorrow.

Convinced that I had spoilt my best chance,  I decided to leave for home. As I was walking back, berating myself, I saw another big trout circling in midstream taking Mayfly. The bank was very high and there was plenty of cover. I watched the fish for several minutes and tied on a spent Mayfly imitation that I had tied the day before.

I was looking down on the fish as it took. I waited a few seconds then lifted the rod. Success. It was a scramble netting the fish without falling in the river. It weighed about 2lb. I was exhausted but on the drive home I replayed the day’s events in my head. I had been driving and walking for over nine hours. A long but rewarding day.

It was a horrible cold, grey day. A strong wind from the north-east.  Not good weather for fly fishing. If I fished the river I could shelter from the rain in The Badgers. Alternatively, at the lakes I could shelter in the clubhouse with a cup of tea and chocolate biscuits. I visited all of the lakes, they were deserted. Fish were rising in the shallows at Little Springs but the other lakes looked lifeless. I decided on the river.

I went to the river and signed in at the fish pass. I walked to the shallow section of river below the fish pass and saw a good fish holding station above a large flat stone. It saw me and turned downstream,  it looked like a sea trout. A week ago I found, hooked and lost a big trout along the straight above the fish pass. It was hiding alongside a small bed of weed in mid stream and had snagged me there when I thought I had it beaten.

I sat on the grass just above the weeds and cast well upstream, I didn’t want to spook the fish with the first cast. I gradually cast closer to the weeds, using the current and the downstream wind to move the GRHE nymph across and down. When the fly reached the critical point the fish swirled and I lifted into it. It tore off upstream,  well away from the weeds. I thought it was foul hooked but when I got it close to the landing net I saw the nymph in it’s jaw. When the trout saw the net it dashed off downstream and took a lot of line. After several attempts I got it in the net. I was surprised by it’s size, it was bigger than I had thought. Ironically, the fish had taken the same GRHE nymph as last week. Not just the same pattern, the very fly ! It was about 2lb 8ozs and marked like a leopard.

I walked upstream and saw a fish rise. I sat and watched the water while I had a toffee. Andrew arrived in his Land Rover and I showed him the photo of the big trout, he said it was an over-wintered fish. While we were chatting the fish rose again. It took about an hour before I could convince the trout to take my fly. It was about 1lb 8ozs, a recently stocked fish.

I fished every pool on the way back to the fish pass but I couldn’t find a trout. I started at the top of the weir pool and had a take first cast. It was a sea trout smolt and came off just as I was about to bring it to the net. The trout were following the fly but turning away. I changed the fly and had a take, it was about 1lb 8ozs and I returned it to the pool. My arm was painful and I decided to leave. Just as I snipped the nymph off the tippet a good fish took a fly off the surface in mid-stream.  I worked a dry fly over the fish for ten minutes to no avail. It had been another good day, I looked forward to a glass of wine to celebrate.

Over Easter I stayed away from the river and consequently missed a couple of opportunities to catch a decent fish. So I started early in the hope that I would have the river to myself for a few hours.  There was a strong southerly wind and heavy rain was forecast. Another Barbour day. Despite the overnight rain the river level was 0.030m, very low. I discussed the catch returns with Andrew, ten wild fish had been caught from the river including three small sea trout. Mayfly had been seen at Little Springs.

Ladymead was not an option, the weekend campers shatter the peace and quiet. I decided to start at Keeper’s Bridge. The bluebells and wild garlic looked spectacular but it is an odd combination of scents. I set my rod up and worked the pool by the big Alder tree. Then I started again from scratch. I had missed a rod ring. Again.

There were no fish showing so I walked slowly downstream towards the new riffle looking for fish. I was nearly at the riffle when I heard a fish rise behind me. I turned and watched the water,  the fish rose again. I sat on the bank above the rise and waited. After five minutes there was a violent splash, a good fish circled around and took a fly on the second attempt. I renewed my tippet and tied on an unweighted Black Nymph. After a couple of tentative casts across the river to get the length, I flicked the fly down and across to where the trout had risen. It took the fly just under the surface and I lifted the rod. Too soon. I pulled the fly out of it’s mouth. Bother. I would have to give the fish time to compose itself.

I left the pool and walked down to the new riffle. I searched the riffle without reward. I think the fish there have become educated.  On the way back upstream I saw a fish rise just below a fallen tree bough. I swapped the fly for a GRHE nymph and started well above the rise, intending to work downstream. The leader shot forward and I lifted into the fish. It felt like a wild brownie but when I first caught sight of the fish, I knew that it was a sea trout. I bullied it into the landing net and let it rest while I searched my pockets for the camera and forceps. The hook dropped out easily and I took a few photos. The fish dashed away from the net, eager to find shelter. It was about eight ounces, not a big fish but my first sea trout from the river. Hurrah.

The sea trout lifted my spirits. I walked back upstream with a purpose, the big brownie was next. I knelt upstream of the fish’s position and waited. It rose for a fly and disappeared. I drifted a Black Nymph over the fish. It came up, carefully inspected the nymph and rejected it. I tied a size 14 dry Olive on and rubbed the tippet with mud. I flicked the dry fly out, the fish rose and took it confidently. The trout fought long and hard,  nearly pointing me on a couple of occasions. It took a long time to recover. As it swam away it looked four pounds but was actually only two. A very long, lithe fish.

On the way back to Keeper’s Bridge I saw another rise and covered it. The fish was very small and wriggled off the hook. I was thirsty and tired so I drove to Great Springs and had a cup of tea.

The trout and wagtails were taking mayfly from the shallows at the top of Little Springs. Brian helped me photograph a newly emerged mayfly. Very appropriate for 1 May. If we get a few sunny days the main hatch will start. It had been a long, tiring day but one that would  stay in my memory for quite a while.

There was a hard frost last night, the top of the car was frozen and the lawn was white. It hadn’t altered the temperature of the water. It takes several days of very cold weather to make even a small change in water temperature. My diary for 2016 showed that on this day last year, the river was six inches higher and coloured. The lack of winter rain had left the sandy soil parched and the river low.

The hedgerows by the Fish Pass and Coultershaw Bridge had been heavily trimmed during the winter. The overgrown banks around the feeder streams had been cleared and access to the river had been made a lot easier.  I waded across the river and walked downstream. The water was crystal clear and the streamer weed had grown a lot. The water was too shallow to hold a good fish so I went back to the weir pool. After a few casts with a Black Nymph I had a ‘rattle’ from a wild trout but it was too quick for me. A little later I had a serious ‘nip’ on the fly but again I failed to hook the fish. I left the pool and fished the Coultershaw Bridge arm of the river. I hadn’t fished this part of the river before and expected great things. Unfortunately it was shallower than I had hoped and after a fishless hour I walked back downstream and crossed back  onto the north bank.

I wandered slowly upstream looking for signs of fish. I stopped at Wasp Bend. That was the pool where I had caught a small trout on my first ever visit to the Rother. The entire stretch looked lifeless but I decided to concentrate and cover every pool on the way back to the Fish Pass. Nothing happened until I got to the top of the long straight. I drew the fly alongside a bed of streamer weed and there was a big thump on the rod as a good fish seized the nymph. It managed to wrap itself around the weed and came free. Disappointing but it spurred me on.

I moved along the bank twenty yards and worked the fly down and across, taking several steps at the end of each cast. Halfway down the straight I had a gentle take and the trout stayed on the hook. Success. It started to rain and I could see The Badgers across the field. It was calling me. The pub was nice and warm.