Author: Nigel Rainton

I hoped the river level had dropped. I checked the level on GuageMap, it was 0.026m. The weather had changed over the weekend, it had been dull and windy on Sunday. The temperature had dropped and the river should be in good condition. I wouldn’t know if the river was fishable until I crossed the bridge at Billingshurst.

Monday is always a good day to visit the river. A few members would have fished on Sunday evening but that keeps the Cormorants away. The weather forecast was unhelpful, sunny and 72 degrees. An evening session was my best option. I wondered about the temperature of the river. Was it one of the reasons why the fishing has been so difficult recently?

Dissolved oxygen levels decrease as the temperature rises.  Trout use about 50-60 milligrams of oxygen per hour at 41F. At the lethal limit of 77F they would need five or six times that amount. Fish need more oxygen at higher temperatures because their metabolic rate increases. At 86F there is hardly any dissolved oxygen. So the lower the temperature of the water the better it is for fishing. I will have to buy a thermometer,  something I’ve always dismissed as a gadget.

I stood on the bridge at Rotherbridge, the place that gave the river it’s name. Not the other way around. The water was clear and there were a few fish dimpling the surface, they were Dace not Trout. A member had already ‘signed in’ and I decided to go to Keeper’s Bridge. When I approached the arch of the old railway bridge I could see a car under the trees. I drove past and headed for the top beats.

As I walked around the edge of the field to Taylor’s Bridge I could hear voices. Two members were walking upstream chatting but not fishing. They didn’t see me as I crossed the bridge and went downstream to the shallow pool above the Monster Pool.

There is always a Trout in this pool, usually a small wild fish. I crept to the edge of the river bank and worked an Amber Nymph under the trees and down the edge of the weeds. After a few casts a frantic bow wave followed the fly but the fish missed it. I covered the whole pool working my way downstream towards the Monster Pool but I couldn’t get a response. I am always nervous at the Monster Pool as it produced my two best fish last year. I fished for about twenty minutes expecting a solid take at any moment. The fish had other ideas.

I moved to the Long Pool and after searching the edge of a weed bed, the line went solid and I thought I had hooked the roots. The rod thumped and a good fish thrashed on the surface. It showed a deep golden flank and then dived to the bottom of the pool. Luckily the pool had a sandy ledge and I was able to scramble down to the waters edge and net the fish. It was about 2lb and swam off back into the weeds. The water felt cool as I released the Trout.

The clouds were building in the West and I felt like a pint to celebrate. I walked back to the Land Rover and drove back down the old railway line. When I got to Keeper’s Bridge there were two cars parked under the trees. I decided to walk down to the river to see if the Trout were rising. I had a chat to the members who were waiting for the evening rise. The water looked good but there were no signs of fish.

I had a pint at the Badgers and as I drove home the contractors were cutting the Wheat. Combine Harvesters the size of a small house were cutting precise lines through the fields. In the dusk the head lights and spot lamps made them look like alien machines from a sci-fi movie.

I will buy a thermometer and make a habit of recording the water temperature at each visit. August has been a difficult month for the last three years. Next week I’m having a break from Trout fishing. No doubt the River Wye Barbel and Chub will be just as demanding.

After several failed attempts at catching a Sea Trout and the news that the Environment Agency annual survey had not found any fish, I was lacking confidence. The last trip to the river was unproductive.  I needed to catch a Trout to get back on track. South of Ockley torrential rain slowed me to 20mph but by the time I got to Five Oaks I needed sun glasses. Weird weather.

As I drove over the bridge at Billingshurst the North River was high and very coloured. It feeds into the Rother which I realised would be unfishable. I thought the lakes at Little Bognor would also be coloured so I turned right at Petworth and went to Great Springs.

As I entered the Estate the view across the Rother valley, the patchwork of fields and the cloudscape looked magnificent. I was surrounded by hundreds of acres of White Kidney Beans destined for cattle feed and to make humus. The millions of black seed pods made the fields look like the aftermath of a wild fire.

Tony, the Keeper, was at the club house carrying a thermometer. He said the water temperature was 26 degrees and a lot of fish had died. Things were not looking good. I took Tony’s advice and went to Luffs. I walked past Great Springs, it looked very quiet. A few fish were moving in the lower lake but they looked stressed and it was obvious that they were not feeding. The path through the woods was cool and quiet but it was too dark and enclosed for any wild life. Luffs lies in open ground and there was a steady breeze blowing up the lake from the dam end, it was enough to cool the water a few degrees.

While I set up my rod I sheltered from a shower of rain under a big Oak tree. Fish were rising along the far bank close to the weed beds. The rain stopped and everything looked soft and clean in the late afternoon sun. I flicked a size 16 Black Buzzer out across the ripple and almost immediately a fish flashed at it.

I explored the wooded bank at Luffs and saw a few fish rise but I couldn’t get a take. I wandered onto the dam end and saw a good fish cruising within casting range. The fly dropped perfectly, the fish rose in the water and turned towards the fly. The leader moved and I lifted the rod expecting a Trout. A small Roach had got there first. I caught another Roach and then moved to Upper Figgs. I didn’t see any signs of Trout so I walked down to Lower Figgs. It was looking lovely, the lilies and rushes made it seem like the perfect Tench water. There were no Trout, they were probably all dead.

It was a long walk back to the club house but it was peaceful in the woods. I’m glad I went for a walk around the lakes, the Estate is an unspoilt part of Sussex and it’s very calming. Catching a Trout is not as important as I thought.

The weather forecast was for heavy rain from 4:00pm onwards so I left earlier than I had planned. It was overcast with a gentle south-westerly wind and showers. I was in two minds which beat to fish. The middle beats would have been fished over the weekend and although I hesitated at Keeper’s Bridge, I went with my intuition and headed for the Top Beat.

As I drove up the old railway track a flock of Gold Finches kept ahead of the Land Rover, flitting from one bunch of thistles to the next. A very large Buzzard was circling over a tractor cutting the meadow, no doubt looking for lunch.

While I was setting up my rod the Keeper, Andrew, drove across the field for a chat. He told me that the Environment Agency had electro fished the stretch of river below The Badgers and had found nothing; no Trout or Sea Trout. Either the fish had not arrived or they had all migrated far upstream during the high water in June/July.

I started with an Amber Nymph that I had tied over the weekend. It was weighted and sunk nicely. The pool immediately below Ladymead looked very inviting, as I crept to the edge of the river a trout splashed at the head of the pool, above the fallen tree. I covered the entire pool carefully and was surprised not to get a take.

Although I was only wearing wellies, I was able to wade onto the sand-bar at Ladymead without getting my feet wet. I searched the pool with the nymph but there was no interest. I walked up the beat searching the deepest pools. I heard several fish splash under the trees but only where it was impossible to present a fly.

I got about half-way up the beat but at about 4:00pm dark clouds welled up over the South Downs and the rain started to fall. It was time to go. I walked briskly back to the Land Rover but I had left it a bit late, I was soaked. I dried off in the Badgers with a pint.

In the hunt for a Sea Trout I had explored many of the likely pools and only caught the non-migratory variety. The numbers didn’t stack up. The numbers of wild fish and stocked Trout far outweighed the Sea Trout. These shy, wild fish probably move up river in the dead of night and hide deep under the tree roots during the day. In my favour, they occasionally jump clear of the water and their bright silver colour makes it easy to distinguish them from the normal brownies. Several members had reported sightings, mainly in the middle beats; that’s where they mainly fish !

The weather had changed, a West wind and overcast skies would make the Sea Trout more inclined to move upstream. I arrived at Coultershaw Bridge about 5:30pm and parked near the weir.  The stretch of water below the fish ladder must hold Sea Trout. They would wait in the deep runs until a spate gave them the depth of water they needed to clear the weir. Access to the river was very difficult. The high banks were overgrown with Willow, Alder and Himalayan Balsam.  It was a sheer drop into the pools about ten feet below me, if I hooked a fish it would be impossible to get it out of the water.

I drove to Keeper’s Bridge and signed in. When I got to the river it looked perfect, the current was steady and there was a slight green tinge to the water. The streamer weed swayed in the margins and provided good cover for the Trout. I started with a GRHE nymph under the Alder trees and after about thirty minutes a fish rolled just behind the fly as it crossed the middle of the river. I flicked the fly back to the same place a couple of times and the fish eventually grabbed it. After a few seconds the fly came adrift.

Then followed an hour of minor problems; flies in trees, tangles, erratic casting, frequent fly changes. It was time for a change of scene. I walked up to the Sandy Pool and fished it down systematically. I had a fish swirl around the fly a couple of times and eventually a nice fish took the fly confidently. It was a very yellow fish, it almost looked like a wild Trout but it had a slight kink in its dorsal fin.

As I left the river a few fish were starting to rise. I popped into the Badgers and had a pint of Cornish Orchards cider on the way back, it was a reward for my efforts. No Sea Trout had been caught but it had been a pleasant evening.

The river level at Halfway Bridge registered 0.024m on the gauge which was the lowest I had seen for several weeks. The long hot spell and the lack of rain had lowered the water level and reduced the flow. Trout don’t like warm, slack water. They seek out faster, well oxygenated water with shelter from the sun and cormorants.

Ladymead was fast flowing and deep but I needed waders to get to the gully on the far side of the sand bar. The pool lies near one of the old locks on the Rother Navigation. Built in 1791 by the Third Earl of Egremont, the lock was one of seven between Midhurst and Stopham. The canal bought coal for the iron works and took stone down to the coast at Littlehampton. Ironically, I had driven along the disused railway line that put an end to the canal, one of Dr. Beeching’s many victims.

Ladymead Lock – circa 1791

The pool could only be fished ‘up and across’, mature Oak and Alder trees hang over the twin sluices at the head of the pool and give shelter to the resting Sea Trout. I’ve fished the pool a lot but I’ve never caught anything there. The steep sandy edge of the pool and overhanging trees had kept me away from the run that undercuts the Alders along the far bank but this time I had waders with me.

I got to Ladymead about 6:00pm, there was nobody there. I waded out onto the sand bar and fished a GRHE nymph methodically up the right hand run. The sand was coarse and supported my weight. There was a spring bubbling up through the sand just infront of me. I was careful to keep well away from the bubbles. I gradually worked up the run, lengthening the line, until I could drop the fly under the overhanging Alder tree. It was hard work keeping in contact with the fly as the current washed the line back towards me. After about an hour I had a take but I missed it. I repeated the process with a black spider but had nothing. I switched my attention to the left hand side of the pool and again worked up and across, gradually lengthening the line. After thirty minutes a fish took, it was a wild fish about 1lb and it scrapped for ages. It was in fine condition but I couldn’t take a photo and hold the fish and the net and the rod….

There was a splash just behind me in the left run. A small fish was rising so I changed to a dry fly and covered it. It rose to the fly three times and each time I missed.

A Kingfisher wizzed past me and flew between the stone pillars of the derelict sluice. There were quite a lot of pale yellow Olives hatching but the Trout seemed to be taking something very small.

My arm was hurting so I got out of the water and wandered downstream to the Long Pool. It looked great but I couldn’t find a fish. I tried the Monster Pool on the way back to the Land Rover but after a few casts I packed up and walked across the field, the pub was calling. I saw a member at Keeper’s Bridge car park, he’d had two fish and seen a Sea Trout. Perhaps I’m fishing in the wrong places.