Author: Nigel Rainton

I had some tedious chores in the morning, the car had been booked in for it’s MOT. It failed. On the bright side, Postman Pat delivered a vintage Barbour jacket that I found on eBay for only £22. After I had re-waxed it and sewn up a small tear, it looked almost new.

The weather was odd. The North wind was quite warm. The clouds moved across the sky with a purpose. The outlook alternated between sunshine and rain. I got to Keeper’s Bridge and tackled up. While I was filling my pockets with fly boxes and toffees, a large bough fell off a tree in the woods. It crashed down on the path. Without any warning. It was a little worrying and I made a mental note to use the farm track in future. Last week I promised some friends a brace of Trout for their dinner. However, none of the fish I had caught were suitable and the pressure was mounting.

Black Nymph

I walked down the farm track and stood on the bend waiting for a fish to show itself. I heard a splash from under the Alder tree but dismissed it as falling debris. The wind was quite strong. I heard another splash but I was looking upstream and couldn’t tell what had caused it. I concentrated my gaze on that pool. A fish swirled right under the tree. I walked down to the pool and just as I got there, the fish rose again a bit further upstream. I tied on a Black Nymph and cast upstream of the rise. The fish took the fly on about the third cast. It was a good fish and battled up and down the pool, diving into the weeds a couple of times. It weighed 2lb 4oz and was suitable for a meal.

I rested the pool for twenty minutes as I had seen another fish. The splashing and jumping about had scared the other fish away and I walked upstream to the Sandy Pool. Last Monday I had seen a Trout under an Alder tree below the Sandy Pool. I wondered if it was still there. Brown Trout are quite territorial. I worked the fly towards the tree, extending the line a little on each cast. There was a big swirl, I lifted the rod and a spooked fish leapt out of the water into the tree branches. It crashed back into the water and I assumed that was the end of the matter.

I walked upstream and half-heartedly flicked the fly around a couple of pools. I wanted to get back to the spooked fish but I knew better than to rush it. After a while my patience ran out and I crept behind the rushes opposite the tree. The first cast was a fluke. The leader curled under the low hanging branches and the fly landed near the opposite bank. The fish swirled at the fly and then hung in the current just underneath it. The fly drifted downstream, I lifted off and repeated the cast. The Trout took, crashed around under the tree and then  dashed up the river. As usual my landing net had run away and hidden in the grass. I  was lucky to land the fish. It made a nice brace, dinner for two.

The barbless hook had taken a good hold in the Trout’s jaw. I don’t think a barbed hook would have penetrated that well. The hook pattern that I have chosen for this season’s flies is the best that I have ever used. The hooks are made from fine wire and are strong. They have a matt black finish and are very sharp.

I walked downstream, past the bridge, towards another favourite tree. I worked hard to entice a third fish but the wind had grown stronger and it was getting cold. My casting was mechanical and I was losing concentration. Time for the pub. I dropped off the two fish on my way home.

There was nearly an inch of rain over the weekend and the river level had risen.  It might encourage the Sea Trout to run up the river but I would have to wait until later in the week to find out. I had been planning to visit the lakes at Little Bognor in November. However, there was no guarantee that the club would extend the fishing season another month.

The early rain had cleared. With a gentle south-westerly breeze the conditions would be ideal. Little Bognor is deep in the woods and sheltered from all but the strongest of winds. The Brown Trout are super fussy and a slight ripple helps to hide the leader. Normally the fish look upon a large or badly presented fly with scorn. A quiet approach and a fine tippet are essential.  Buzzers and tiny nymphs usually tempt the fish. The lakes are spring fed and contain wild Brown Trout.  The wild fish are easily identified and must be returned to the lakes.

As the Land Rover thundered towards Petworth the rain returned. When I got to Fittleworth is was torrential. I swung off the little lane and drove up the muddy track into the woods. I parked under an Oak tree and sat watching the water while I had a sandwich. An acorn fell on the aluminium roof and gave me a shock. Eventually the rain stopped and the sun came out. I tackled up beside the lower lake and walked up the slope to the outflow of the top lake. I stood behind a clump of ferns and looked for rising fish. There were a lot of Roach on the surface sipping buzzers and a few Trout swirling among the floating leaves. I decided to start with a buzzer and cast to a rise near the Willow tree. No response. I persevered with buzzers of different colours and sizes but I couldn’t get a take.

I moved to the other side of the tree behind a chest high, bushy fern. I was well hidden but the line kept snagging on the fern and the Chestnut tree behind me. The chestnuts were thumping on the ground like hand grenades.

The fish were rising only a couple of rod lengths out. I flicked a green buzzer to the nearest rise and had a take straight away.  I missed. I cast to another rise and missed the second take. I tried to relax and to delay lifting the rod. After a few more casts the fish moved away into the centre of the lake. I swapped to a dry fly, a size 18 Black Neoprene Spider, which sat in the surface film and remained visible. A Trout moved towards me from the right, head and tailing as it fed on buzzers.  The fly was right along it’s feeding line and the fish rose confidently for it. I knew it was a small Trout and I tried to keep it quiet to avoid frightening the other fish away. It fought well and the lake remained still for a long time after I had netted it.

I crept along the far bank looking for fish but they were wary and stopped rising as soon as I cast. As the sun went down the Roach stopped feeding and everything went dead. I went to the Land Rover contemplating a pint at the Black Horse. A Trout was feeding at the far end of the lower lake and ‘one last cast’ was in order. I watched the fish rise among the leaves, it was moving away from me. I waited until the fish turned and put an Amber Nymph in it’s path. I gave the fly a little tweak and the fish seized it. After a few twists and turns it came off. It was a good time to leave.

It was a cold, grey morning with a gusty east wind. Not traditional weather for fly fishing. I wanted to fish a stretch of the river that I wasn’t familiar with. It would be more of a challenge. I decided to fish in the wooded section between Keeper’s Bridge and Ladymead.  I haven’t been there this season and it would be like fishing a different river. I made an early start as the evenings are short and the light goes about 6:00pm.

I walked upstream from Keeper’s Bridge. I paused and watched each pool for a few minutes to see if the Trout were rising.  It was about an hour before I reached the footbridge by the abandoned Sussex barn. There’s a Barn Owl’s nest inside the old building. Although I waited in the bushes, the owls didn’t show themselves. I found lots of Blackberries on a south facing hedgerow. They were sweet and not ‘pippy’. I left a few for the birds.

As I was admiring the clouds a fish rose in a narrow section of river just below the fallen Oak tree.  It was impossible to cast so I lowered a Black Spider into the water a few times but the Trout had gone. I walked back towards the riffle, casting into the likely looking gaps under the trees.  When I got to the Sandy Pool there were signs of fish moving. I covered every part of the pool with a weighted nymph but I didn’t get a take.

I was contemplating an early visit to the pub when I saw a fish rise in the straight section of river below the pool.  I could see the fish hanging in midstream just under the surface.  I swapped my fly for a weighted Black Spider and crept down the bank until I was opposite the rise. I kept still and watched the river, nothing happened.  I cast the fly across to the far side of the river and watched the leader. It twitched then drew away from me. I lifted into the fish and kept it out of the bushes and weeds. After releasing the fish I  decided to go to the pub as I was convinced that I wouldn’t get another. I picked up my rod and net and started walking but another fish swirled.

The fish had torn the fly but I decided to trim the hackles and use it again. It looked like a black nymph, I must tie some like that. First cast there was a flash and a swirl at the fly but the Trout did not take. I rested the fish and tried again but it had gone. I saw a fish rise in the tail of the Sandy Pool but it had also disappeared by the time I got there. I wandered back towards Keeper’s Bridge and stood on the corner waiting for a fish to show itself. The light was fading fast but a couple of fish rose just past the big Alder tree. The trees behind me made it difficult to cast properly but I flicked the fly out just under the branches. It was taken without hesitation. As I was struggling with the landing net another fish splashed downstream from the bridge.

The two Trout had torn the fly to pieces. The silk thread was coming undone and it looked a mess. I tied on a new fly and went in search of another fish. I found the fish below the bridge and presented the fly just upstream of it’s position. After a couple of casts the leader tightened and I was into my third fish. I unhooked it and released it from the landing net. I was using a pan-shaped landing net which is not very traditional. However, it is easier to nurse the fish and allow it to swim off from a shallow net. The light had gone, I could no longer see my leader and the fish had stopped rising.

I had thought that I would return home without catching anything but three fish in the last hour was a good result. If I had gone to the pub earlier I would have missed the evening rise. There is no doubt that the hour before darkness is the best time of day.

It was a beautiful Monday morning with blue skies and a gentle North wind. I’d had a message from the Keeper last Friday to tell me the trout were going ‘crazy’ at Ladymead. However, my weekend was messy and fishing had to wait a couple of days.

I drove along the disused railway line to the start of the top beat. There were Pheasants everywhere.  October is a great month for country sports because the fishing and shooting seasons overlap. As I set up my rod three Buzzards were wheeling around the sky, riding the thermals to gain height. They were calling to each other, an unmistakable sound. I walked around the headland to avoid the cover crop and signed in. A member had recorded a good Trout, taken on a dry fly the previous day.

I walked around the old lock and crept to the edge of the pool. I hid behind some rushes and scanned the water for fish. There were several in midstream and amongst the group was a large Trout. I estimated it’s weight at about 4lb. The fish were just under the surface in the main current,  I could see them clearly.  I thought a dry fly would be the best option.  I chose a large badger winged Mayfly,  the nearest imitation of a Crane fly that I had in my box. I lengthened the line on the grass behind me and tried to cast the fly upstream of the fish. The wind caught the line and the fly landed right on top of the big Trout. It turned, looked at the fly and moved away. A smaller fish swung round, followed the fly and grabbed it. Luckily it dashed off into the tail of the pool and I was able to land it without too much disturbance. After releasing the fish I rested the pool for a while and the other fish returned. The big Trout was still there in midstream. I tied on a black Neoprene Spider and cast well upstream. It drifted down the right line but started to drag just at the critical point.  The fish moved away from me. I tried again with the same result.

I rested the pool and walked to the top of the beat trying a few likely looking holes on the way. I didn’t see any signs of Trout. When I returned to Ladymead the fish were back. I swapped to a size 12 weighted GRHE nymph. The cast was perfect,  another one of the smaller fish took the fly confidently. I saw the fish turn and lifted the rod. Once again it went downstream and I netted it from the sandy bank at the tail of the pool. I thought I would have to give the fish a rest but while I was taking some photos another Trout swirled. I watched it for a while and couldn’t resist a cast.  To my surprise the fish greedily accepted the nymph and tore around like a mad thing. It jumped out of the landing net but I managed to net it again.

Ladymead needed a rest so I walked down to the Shallow Pool and changed to a dry fly. I had a couple of tentative takes but couldn’t connect. One of the fish looked like a wild Trout about 12oz. Back at Ladymead I saw only one fish, not the big one. It was lying deep,  just the other side of the sandbank. I dropped a GRHE nymph infront of it and the Trout moved up in the water,  turned and took the fly. This fish behaved differently,  it made a dash across the pool but then gave up. I guided it into the net and while unhooking it, I noticed a cut in its upper jaw. It had been caught the day before.

When I returned to the bridge I watched the shallows and a fish rose under the trees. I presented a nymph accurately but there was no interest. I stopped at Keeper’s Bridge on the way home and checked the signing in book, a few fish had been caught over the weekend.

Autumn arrived with attitude. A strong east wind tore the curly brown leaves off the Chestnut trees. Grey skies and jumpers indoors. It was time to put my waistcoat away and get out the Barbour jacket.  I retrieved my old Border from the back of the cupboard and re-waxed it. Good as new. Thursday is a popular day at the river and I resolved to get there early. At 1:00pm the conditions looked perfect, the journey seemed to take longer than usual.