Author: Nigel Rainton

Last weeks rain had given the Sea Trout an opportunity to find their way up to Coultershaw Bridge and this weeks hot sunny days had petered out. The river level was perfect and the weather forecast for a cool, overcast evening was encouraging. I arrived just after 5:00pm and went straight to the weir pool, it looked good. The water was cool and well oxygenated, as I crept around the edge of the pool a Trout splashed in the main flow. The air was sultry and the high, hazy cloud was some protection from the sun.

Before I set up my rod, I explored the fish ladder and the bend immediately above the weir. Everywhere looked promising. I started at the weir lashing and explored every inch of the white water with a weighted GRHE nymph. Then I repeated the process with a black spider. At about 6:00pm I had a tentative pluck but didn’t connect with the fish. A few pale yellow Olives were hatching and occasionally a small Trout splashed under the far bank as it took a fly. I was tempted to change to a dry fly but this was not part of the plan. I would concentrate on catching a Sea Trout.

At about 7:00pm the sun started to disappear behind a bank of clouds and the gentle breeze dropped. A big fish rolled slowly on the surface just behind an overhanging branch. The cast was difficult, the fly line stretched across the main flow and washed round in a belly, the classic ‘down and across’ approach. There was a good thump on the rod and my immediate reaction was ‘Sea Trout’. It wasn’t. The fish fought very hard in the current and swum off strongly when released.

I moved half way down the pool and put the fly over a fish near the far bank. The Trout took the fly but after wrenching the rod, the hook pulled out. It felt like a good fish.

I walked up to the Corner Pool and searched the pool from the top down to the junction of the side stream. There was no sign of life. I returned to the weir and fished across the current behind the overhanging branch where I caught the fish earlier. After twenty minutes I had another savage take and caught a fish that looked remarkably like the first one. I checked it’s mouth for hook marks but it was clean. The Trout seem to gather under the overhanging Alder branch, just on the edge of the current. My arm and wrist were painful from the constant casting so I packed up and walked across the field to the Land Rover. I met Andrew, the Keeper,  on the way and he said the Environment Agency had just electro-fished the stretch of river below the pub and that he would let me know the results. It would be encouraging to hear that they found a few big Sea Trout. Last year they caught ten Sea Trout weighing up to 10lbs.

It had been hard work searching the fast, deep water for a Sea Trout. Next time I might try the big pool at Ladymead, the remains of the old sluice interrupts the upstream journey of the fish and the pool is said to be over ten feet deep.

After 10 days on holiday I was keen to get back to the river. The gauge at Halfway Bridge was reading 0.03m and the weather looked good. When I got to Keeper’s Bridge the river was at a good height but was too coloured so I decided to visit Lower Figgs instead.

At the lake the wind was quite strong and swirling around in gusts. The clouds gave some respite from the sun. There were a lot of Damsel flies and Dragon flies in the air but nothing hatching. The Trout were cruising around quite close to the surface, most of the fish were obviously distressed and not feeding, the water was too warm. Amongst the wobbly fish there were some faster moving Trout, they were feeding on something below the surface, probably buzzers.

It would be dry fly only. I chose an Adams variant with a hackle stretching half-way down the body. There were some large fish showing, some over 3lb. I waited until a bigger fish came within range and put the fly down gently but the fish cruised past without a glance. That continued for a while. A couple of fish rose and swirled at the fly but I was so surprised I missed ! I found a feeding fish close to the bank and flicked the fly into the Trout’s path. It surged forwards, grabbed the fly and thrashed about on a short line for a few moments.

I used the clumps of rushes to hide and the fish came quite close to me. A Trout was swimming straight towards me and was quite active, looking for food. I plopped the fly down and as soon as the fish heard the fly land, it accelerated towards the fly and took it confidently. The fight was feeble and the fish was obviously suffering from the heat. I decided to pack up and leave. Targeting the fish was fun but it was unsporting to catch them. We need some rain and chilly nights.

Today I visited a stream that I have not fished for 43 years. In my experience it is not a good idea to relive memories, things change and it usually leads to disappointment.

I last fished here during my college days when I should have been studying the flora and fauna but I took a short rod instead of a notebook.

The buzzards were mewing in the stiff breeze and the harsh rattle of a 50 caliber machine gun sounded from over the hill. The RM gunners were live firing on the range. The red flags were flying. I always had the stream to myself when the range was in use. On previous visits I walked up the stream bed casting ahead and taking small trout from most pools. They were all returned.

Today I was restricted by a lack of wellingtons, I clambered along the bank looking into the pools. The water was crystal clear and flowed swiftly, no change there. It was good to see green weeds in the water, a sign that the water was not too acid.

I didn’t see any trout but that was always the case, they hide deep in the pools under rocks and bankside rushes.

The little stream was exactly as I remembered. In fact, better than I remember.

Yesterday I went to the river with a dozen other members for a guided tour organised by Andrew, the Keeper. Unfortunately the river was still coloured and unfishable. We toured the North bank from Rotherbridge, stopping at every bridge, right to the end of the top beat. We travelled in a convoy of Land Rovers which was just as well because the grass and stinging nettles were as high as the door handles. Then we visited the South bank driving to Taylor’s bridge and discussing the various pools on the way.

As the river was still coloured this morning, I went to Little Bognor and had a look around the top lake. The water was the colour of strong black coffee with brown sugar in a brown cup. I left the lake and drove to Great Springs. It was a lovely Summer’s day with a warm gentle breeze from the West and fluffy white clouds. I had a long chat with Tony, the Keeper, and a leisurely cup of tea. I walked around the top lake and saw several fish along the margins of the West Bank. I tried them with a buzzer and dry fly but they showed no interest.

I walked around the lower lake and fished near the Lime tree and then on the dam bank with no success. I did another circuit of the top lake but the fish seem to have gone down in the water to avoid the bright sunlight. After a final walk around the bottom lake and a few fruitless casts, it was time to leave. It was a very relaxing afternoon after the hectic events of Brexit.

Yesterday Tony told me about some big Brown Trout in the lakes at Little Bognor. I drove down to Fittleworth thinking about the possibility of an encounter with a Monster. I arrived at 11:30am and was relieved to see that the car park was empty, it’s only a small lake and two is a crowd.

I started at the top of the lake where the feeder stream runs in, there were trout rising amongst the debris from the willow trees. I tied on a size 18 Adams and flicked it at Trout that were only twenty feet from the bank. I used a large bushy fern to hide behind.

Several fish looked at the fly but were not interested. I changed the fly but there was no response. I could see the 4lb bs tippet clearly in the surface film, so could the fish. I changed the tippet to 2.5lb bs and cast to rising fish. Nothing. I persevered for about two hours but I couldn’t get a take.

I could see that they were taking buzzers just below the surface. The water had lots of dust and debris on the surface and the hatching buzzers were taking a long time to break through. I tried a size 12 Neoprene Buzzer, a size 12 Red Buzzer and a size 12 Green Buzzer but to no avail. I scaled down to a size 18 Black Buzzer but they were not fooled. I spent another hour with the buzzers but it was hopeless.

There were several fish rising to buzzers just by the overflow so I crept round to the dam end of the lake and hid behind another bush. I had a take on a Black Buzzer but missed it. The fish were underneath the Weeping Willow and they occasionally wandered out into the lake for a feed and then went back under the leaves.

I snipped the hackle off a size 18 Adams so it looked like an emerging buzzer and watched it slowly sink. At 4:00pm I was rewarded with a gentle take and I lifted into the fish. It felt as if I had hooked a snag and I thought ‘Monster‘ but it was only a small fish. I had a quick look around the bottom lake before leaving, there were fish rising but the water was very coloured.

It was a nice day and I worked hard, the fish at Little Bognor are very fussy.