Author: Nigel Rainton

Record temperatures this summer have made Trout fishing difficult. During the day the fish hide under the Alder and Oak trees,  deep in the roots. They don’t venture out of their shelters until late evening. This week has seen regular midday temperatures over 86 Fahrenheit, boosted by hot southerly winds straight from the Mediterranean. Much too hot for fishing. On the plus side, sundown is 7:15pm,  a civilised time for a few last casts and a pint.

The river had been busier than normal as members avoid the luke warm lakes and stressed Rainbows. I had seen a few fish at the top of the Rotherbridge Beat on a previous trip and planned to visit that stretch. However, as I pulled into the Rotherbridge car park I saw another car. Then Tony arrived in his Land Rover, followed by David. I decided to go elsewhere but when I got to Keeper’s Bridge two members were tackling up in the parking area. I wished them well and drove on to the Top Beat. Thankfully I had that stretch of river to myself.  I wandered across the field to the river. The remnants of last year’s potato crop were shooting amongst the stubble Pheasant poults were everywhere,  feasting on the spilt wheat grains.

Above the Monster Pool

The signing-in book was blank, nobody had fished the Beat for at least 3 days. As I crossed the bridge a good Trout spooked, swam downstream under the bridge and took shelter among the tree roots. I marked the fish down for the end of the session. I walked downstream about a hundred yards and sat on the soft grass while I set up my rod. A small fish rose opposite me in shallow water. It rose again several times making it’s way down the pool.  I tied on a Neoprene Spider and waited.  The fish rose and I flicked the fly just upstream of it. The fish came up, inspected the fly and disappeared.  The small wild fish are well educated, they have seen too many flies. I changed the fly to a Neoprene Buzzer and chopped the hackle short.  As I was about to cast a much bigger fish rose just above a Willow tree. I crept above the Willow and flicked the buzzer into the main current. The Trout rose in slow motion, looked carefully at the fly and took it confidently.  I lifted gently and the fish dashed across the river under an Alder tree.  The fight was long and hard but I eventually slipped the hook out of it’s throat and released the fish from the landing net. It swum off strongly.  I had only been there thirty minutes, things looked positive.

The Long Pool

As I walked down to the Monster Pool I saw another member walking upstream wearing a white shirt and ‘sky-lining’ the entire stretch. He’ll probably complain about the lack of Trout in the river.

I fished the Long Pool and Monster Pool with little hope of a take and then walked back upstream to the fish I had marked down earlier.  Before I got to the bridge I saw a swirl under a low hanging Alder tree, then another swirl.  A good fish was feeding greedily on midges. I peered under the branches and saw two fish competing for the hatching flies. I tied on a Neoprene Spider and put it under the tree with a neat side cast. A fish flashed at the fly but was put off by the leader which had curled downstream. The presentation would have to be improved.

Above the Monster Pool – Wasps Nest

I rested the fish which had moved down a couple of yards. They were soon back, swirling under the branches. I cast above the fish, let the bow in the leader drag round then released the fly line to drift down under the leaves. I saw both fish swirl and lifted into the biggest. Hurrah, it had all gone to plan. The Trout reacted strangely, it swam leisurely towards me just under the surface, wagging it’s tail. I immediately thought it was the fish I had caught an hour earlier so I turned and  reached for the net. That was premature. The fish woke up and dashed upstream, ‘pointing’ me and nearly breaking free as a loop of fly line caught around the reel handle. I eventually unhooked the Trout and nursed it in the landing net for about ten minutes.

After it had swum off I turned to climb the bank and saw a bullock standing over my rod. It’s front feet were perilously close to the expensive carbon fibre. My heart sank, the stupid animal was going to ruin my evening.  I crept along the grass on all fours towards the butt of the rod and slowly the curious beast backed away. Thank heaven, I nearly went home with a seven piece rod. Note to self: do not lay my rod in the grass.

I was happy with my brace of Trout and decided to pack up. As I got to the bridge the fish I had seen earlier jumped clear of the water in a two-fingered gesture.  It was unfinished business, I’ll meet him next time.

The pub was crowded, David arrived with a prospective new member who had caught a Trout in the weir pool.  It was raining heavily as I drove home and the temperature had dropped about 10 degrees. A cold front had moved in from the West. We need the rain.

With a West wind and over 70 Fahrenheit it would be a waste of time fishing in the afternoon.  I’d tied a few flies while I was waiting for the sun to drop below the top of the hedge. I used size 18 barbless fine wire hooks which are suitable for both dry flies and nymphs. The fish had been taking small flies just under the surface so I tied some emergers. The flies are semi-buoyant,  they will float if presented gently on a nylon tippet but sink slowly with fluorocarbon. Everybody raves about CDC emergers but I can’t see the point of a fly that is useless when wet. I tied mine with Partridge hackles or a blob of white foam.

When the tippet sinks it is less obvious, the surface film is not disrupted.  No shadows are produced.  Fluorocarbon is slightly thicker than pre-stretched nylon but it’s refractive index is close to that of water. That makes it almost invisible under water.

I arrived about 4:00pm to find a hint of Autumn along the river. Some of the Alder leaves were yellowing and falling into the water, drifting slowly downstream.  The Balsam was starting to topple over and seed pods were popping as they knocked together in the wind. I’d planned to walk down to the site of the new riffle as I had seen several fish there during my last visit. As I was setting up my rod, a fish rose just upstream of Keeper’s Bridge.  I tied a black spider on a 2.7lb tippet and cast gently. About thirty minutes later another fish rose close to me. At least I hadn’t scared them away. A dry fly skated around and twisted badly. A weighted black spider fished down and across, alongside the streamer weed, was followed but the fish veered away as I lifted off.

I peered into the water where the fish had swirled, it was still there. It was in about two feet of water just under the rod tip, holding it’s position near a small clump of weed. I flicked the fly under the bridge so that it would have time to sink before I twitched it back past the Trout. As soon as the fly landed it was grabbed by another fish. I lifted gently and after a long tussle the Trout was in the landing net. As I lifted it out of the water I saw a group of about five fish near the net. They had remained in a shoal since being stocked. I released the fish below the bridge and had a toffee to celebrate.

Keeper’s Bridge

I thought I would rest the fish and walk up to the riffle above the Sandy Pool. The grass had been cut and there were hundreds of young Pheasants  poking about in the stubble.  Many more than last season. The improved riffle looked good. At the tail end of the riffle a small tree had been pushed over to cover the gravel. That would provide shelter for young fish. A croy had been built on the North bank and a deep channel dug to increase the flow. The bank had been graded and fenced.  The biggest improvement was immediately above the ripple.  A tree had been removed and the entire pool opened up. As I was watching a fish rose in the middle of the pool. I searched the pool with a nymph but the Trout was indifferent.

As I strolled back to the bridge I saw a deer jumping about in the field occasionally browsing the grass.  Very odd behaviour.  I crept towards it, when it lifted it’s head I stood still. I got quite close but it saw me and bounded away into the tree line.

When I got back to the bridge I put a weighted Amber Nymph on and cast under the rushes on the far bank. The take came immediately but the fish made a long run down under the bridge and broke the tippet on the streamer weed. I fished below the bridge to a rising Trout,  it swirled angrily at the nymph but I couldn’t entice it.

The wind was getting stronger and I needed a pint. The Badgers was very busy with people from the Goodwood Revival.

The weather looked good for an evening session.  The light rain had cleared and left behind a muggy, overcast afternoon with a warm southerly breeze. It was over 70 degrees when I left home and the humidity was 100%. As I drove over the bridge at Billingshurst I was pleased to see that the North River was neither high nor coloured.  The Rother would be fine.  I parked the Land Rover under the Hazel tree at Keeper’s Bridge and checked the Beat record book. Not much had been caught over the weekend.  I wandered down to the river and checked the water temperature with my newly acquired thermometer.  It was 62 degrees Fahrenheit. I don’t like the Centigrade scale, it’s too clumsy.  The water was up a few inches and had a green tint but I could still see the ribbons of weed in mid-river.  A fish rose gently and sipped in something so small I couldn’t see it, probably a buzzer.

I chose a leaded black spider and crushed the barb with artery forceps, it makes unhooking a fish so much easier. I had a new leader and a tippet of 4.4lb breaking strain Frog Fluorocarbon. I’d been to Albury Game Angling over the weekend and bought some goodies but I handed back the Hardy Duchess 3″ reel that Peter had tried to sell me.  Next season perhaps.

I crept along the bank to a rising fish and carefully worked the cast downstream.  After about thirty minutes of delicate casting a fish took the fly just under the far bank. It was on for a few seconds and then the line fell slack. It looked like quite a nice fish. I thought the fly had pulled free but on checking the hook I saw the point had snapped off.  Another lesson learnt; don’t crush barbs – buy barbless hooks.

I was confident that I would get a fish or two and I decided to go further downstream to my favourite Alder tree just below the bridge. The pool looked good and a fish rose as I tied on a new fly. I used a lightly weighted black spider with a bushy hackle. The fish rose again, it had taken up station in mid-stream intercepting flies as the current delivered them. After a few casts the fish took the spider just under the surface. It fought hard, I nearly messed things up when the fly line caught on the reel handle. The new tippet material was a success. It is not as brittle as the Orvis fluorocarbon and a third of the price. I returned the fish and it shot off after I poked it with the landing net. A small pan shaped net made it a lot easier to release the fish but I need a longer net handle.

I made my way down to the bend but just as I was preparing to cast,  Andrew the Keeper arrived in his Land Rover. He said the riffle above the Sandy Pool had been improved and a new riffle would be built near the water pump above Rotherbridge.  The digger was in place and after modifying the banks, 500 tons of gravel would be spread across the river bed.  That is a lot of gravel.

I walked downstream to the site of the new riffle and started working the pool down and across.   Three fish rose repeatedly in the same stretch of water. One Trout followed my fly but sheered away at the last moment.  There were a couple of nips at the fly but I couldn’t connect with the Trout. I walked slowly back upstream casting to several rising fish but they went down as soon as I presented the fly. I need to approach the fish more carefully and measure the first cast accurately. I often overdo it and ‘line’ the fish.

I was hot and tired, the tropical weather had taken its toll on me. A cool pint awaited me at The Badgers. September had started well.

No Trout fishing for the last three weeks, I was chasing Chub and Barbel in Herefordshire on the River Wye. I fished on the Red Lion stretch at Bredwardine which is primarily a Salmon fishery. There were quite a few Salmon and Sea Trout showing and a local fly angler caught four brownies in one evening.

I became engrossed in the big river and didn’t miss the much smaller and peaceful Rother. Now I’m back home the hot weather has broken and after the madness of the Bank Holiday, it is time to head for Petworth. A delicate nymph is much more satisfying than a lump of luncheon meat.

The River Wye

The bad weather might have discouraged some members from visiting the river. The water won’t have risen as the long hot dry spell left the ground parched. The stubble fields are full of huge round straw bales. The salad crops in the dry sandy soil have soaked up the light August rain.

It was a lovely Autumn morning with a clear blue sky. The lawn was white with damp spiders webs. I drove down to Petworth wondering where to start. I went to Rotherbridge and watched the water, it was shallow and clear. There were no Trout moving but it was interesting to see the contours of the sandy river bed. It was level with a regular dimple pattern, just like the sand on a beach at low tide. I didn’t like the look of the Beat, it was lifeless and I decided to go further upstream.

I checked the log-book at Keeper’s Bridge. I was surprised to see that a few fish had been caught over the weekend despite the Bank Holiday wind and rain. I signed in and walked down the slope to the river. I stood and watched the river while sipping a beer; it was a beautiful evening. Two members arrived and walked upstream, well away from me. A couple of fish rose within casting range. I decided to concentrate on the pool immediately above the bridge. I set up a long leader to fish an Amber Nymph but fish were still rising to a hatch of small Olives. It didn’t make sense to fish a nymph.

I switched to a size 10 bushy dry fly and worked it under the Alder trees on the far bank. Every fish I covered stopped rising. A good fish just above the bridge, came to the fly, inspected it and disappeared. The fly or leader were spooking the Trout. Probably both. I swapped to a lighter leader but it twisted with the ‘helicopter effect’ of the fly. I chopped the hackle square under the fly and the lopsided fly didn’t spin as much.

Fish started to rise along the stretch above the bridge just as the sun went down. They were feeding on something tiny. I changed to a size 16 Adams on a 4lb tippet, chopped the hackle and cast ‘up and across’ to a rising fish. It took immediately and fought well. Bill happened to walk past and netted it for me, a bright coloured fish that swam off strongly. Success on the last cast. Bill had caught two fish on a large Grey Wulf, what a contrast to my approach.

We adjourned to the Badgers for a pint and a chat. It had been a hard session but rewarding. I had re-learned a lot. Why can’t I remember these things? Writing about it might help.