Author: Nigel Rainton

The river was high and coloured, the rain was forecast to last into late afternoon. The Poppies and Daisies were in stark contrast to the grey sky and olive green of the crops. I had a leisurely lunch and two cups of tea while waiting for the sun to come out.

The Trout were moving everywhere. Some were jumping, others splashing and a few were obviously feeding. There were lots of Damsel flies around the lakes but I only saw a couple of Mayfly. Some fish were repeatedly jumping well clear of the water, that usually means they have lice and are trying to shake them off.

Jumping well clear of the water.

I had a walk around Great Springs looking for the bigger fish. I cast to two cruising fish but they ignored the fly. They were quite low in the water. I  walked down to Little Springs and watched the fish from behind the rushes. Two large fish were showing but they didn’t like my Iron Blue Dun. I swapped to a nameless fly with a brown silk body and ginger hackle.

I waited for the pale shadow of a Trout to appear, placed the fly gently infront of the fish and then lifted too early. To compound my error I clipped a bush behind me on the back cast and lost the fly. I was waiting for the fish to cruise past but the clouds gathered, the wind got up and I could no longer see the fish through the ripples. Time for tea.

I had a chat with Tony, the ‘Keeper of the Lakes’ and he said that he had introduced some large Brown Trout into the lakes at Little Bognor, mainly the upper lake. That’s where I will be heading tomorrow.

After tea I walked around Great Springs once more but I couldn’t convince the larger fish to take a fly. I left for home, after three hours of stalking, without catching anything but the upside was I hadn’t caught a small Trout.

 

After four days of rain the river level had risen and the water was coloured. Not the peaty brown of May, more of a green tint. There was no point in fishing the river, it would have to wait another week.

When I arrived at the lakes the wind was due South and it was warm, the rain had just stopped. I made my usual cuppa and had a wander around Great Springs, I had the lake to myself. Trout were rising and splashing everywhere, mainly around the dam area. I decided that it would have to be a ‘dry fly only’ day or I would be going home in an hour. I also resolved only to cast to rising fish, the bigger ones ! That should be a challenge.

I tackled up at the club house; surely the most luxurious fishing hut in the country, if not the world. The Iron Blue Dun looked very attractive so I tied on the best example in my box and walked off around the lake.

I found a group of fish feeding on the far side of the point and watched them taking nymphs around the edges of a weed bed. They were about 2lb so I held fire. A bigger, pale fish moved past me about ten yards from the bank, between two weed beds. That would do nicely. I put the fly down gently about a yard infront of the fish which ignored the fly and continued on its way. I waited. Another good fish came towards me from the right. I presented the fly nicely, the fish rose up and took the fly confidently. I lifted into the Trout and tried to keep it in open water but it dived under the nearest weed bed and got off.

I found another feeding fish near the point, it was quite close to the bank. I showed it the Iron Blue and it was on. Briefly. It also crashed under a weed bed and got away. It seemed pointless repeating the process for a third time so I went back to the club house and had another cup of tea. I watched the lower lake which was more sheltered and saw quite a few good fish moving along the East bank. They were feeding not just leaping about. The lower lake has very little weed and I decided to fish there. Although I have been to the lakes on many occasions I have never fished Little Springs. I much prefer the clearer, weedy water of Great Springs. The water is clear because of the weed. There is more pond life and shelter for the Trout. Weed is a good thing even if I do loose the odd fish or two.

I sat on a bench at Little Springs and watched the fish. There were quite a few big fish sipping buzzers from the surface film. The porpoise like head-and-tail rise is a sure sign of Trout taking buzzers. I was very patient and waited for a good fish to come close enough. Eventually I cast the fly but a small trout rushed up and grabbed it before the bigger fish had a chance.

It started to rain. I looked to the South and decided not to walk back to the club house, it would only be a shower. Wrong. I sheltered under a Lime tree and about an hour later the rain eased. The fish became very active, they were rising all around me. I dried and oiled the fly and stood by the bench, it was too wet to sit on.

A good size fish was cruising towards me about twenty feet away. I put the fly right in its path, it rose and took the fly without any hesitation. The Trout took off for the far bank and my little Hardy Marquis reel buzzed frantically as the line disappeared. It was very quiet around the lake but my noisy reel attracted the attention of the two other members fishing. When the fish reached the far bank it turned around and headed back towards me. I wound as fast as I could and just about kept the line from slackening. The Trout did a few circuits infront of me and I looked over my shoulder for the net. The fish wasn’t ready for the net and it tore off along the margins to my left taking most of the fly line. My fly line is 30 yards long ! Then the line fell slack, the hook had dropped out. It took a long time to wind the line back on to the reel, it was an opportunity to reflect on the lost fish.

I continued to target the bigger fish but another small fish appeared from nowhere and gulped the fly down. I try and impose a two fish limit on myself so I wandered around the lake for a chat with another member, had a third cup of tea and left for home. It had been a successful day, the batteries had been recharged for a session on the river next Monday.

I was determined to fish whatever the weather, I wanted to get back to the pool where I had last seen the Monster Trout.

The weather was in stark contrast to my last trip, warm and humid with the return of the West wind. Unfortunately the wind was downstream and as the river level had risen slightly this would cause presentation problems. The Sea Trout might be running after the weekend rain.

The plan was to fish the top beat and concentrate on the deep pools. I walked down the North side to just above the Monster pool and resolved to fish it carefully and to cover every square inch. The Mayfly were dwindling away, I only saw a couple, there were no rising fish anywhere. While I was setting my rod up it started to rain, ‘It will only be a shower’ I thought and I didn’t bother to shelter under a tree. Big mistake, I was soaked to the skin in a few minutes.

I cast down and across with a weighted fly and let the line swing round, just like Salmon fishing. Half way down the pool there was a slight pluck at the line which I missed. A couple of casts later I connected with a small, wild Trout which I released. I moved down a few yards and had another take from a small fish but I didn’t connect with that one.

The Monster Pool

The sun came out and I started to steam. I worked the fly through the deepest part of the pool and under the Oak tree but there was no response from the Trout, they must have been hiding deep in the tree roots. I wandered up to Ladymead but the wind had got up and it was impossible to cast.

On the way back I dropped the fly into the deep pool just below the recently fallen tree and let it drift round. At the tail of the pool a Trout took and put up a spirited fight. The fish was about 1lb 8oz. I got back in the Land Rover and went to Rotherbridge, the water under the bridge is shallower than last year and there are a few more patches of weed. The wind was getting stronger and it was a job to get the line in the water. After a few casts a good fish followed the fly and I drew the line in quickly to induce a take. The Trout was convinced and just like the earlier fish, it gave a good account of itself. It was about the same size as the earlier fish. I return all of the fish from the river, it’s part of the enjoyment to see them swim away. Thunder clouds were gathering and rather than get soaked again, I went to The Badgers for a pint.

I had an invitation to fish the Wey near Alton. A proper chalk stream. This would take me well outside my comfort zone. Clear water, Ranunculus, streamer weed and fussy Brown Trout. I would have to fish at the top of my game. It was a very hot, sunny day with a gentle breeze, not ideal for fishing. We walked downstream looking for fish, the weed beds covered the stream from bank to bank with narrow gaps of deep, dark water in between the weed beds and down the margins.

I started to fish a stretch of water around a right hand bend, flicking the fly on a long leader with only a yard of fly line outside the tip eye. I watched the fly drift back towards me. ‘Tenkara’ style. With each cast I moved upstream a step, slowly making my way along the barbed wire fence and around the bend. As the bend straightened out there was a wide, deep run under the far bank. Overhanging rushes and grass sheltered the run. I flicked the fly close to the far bank and followed the drifting fly down with the rod. After several runs down, there was a flash and wrench on the rod, a monster Trout had seized the fly. Chaos ensued. There was much splashing and shouting for help. After a lot of messing about the Trout was subdued but it was out of reach.

I slid down the bank into the water, waded out into midstream and tried to net the fish, it went barmy again. Eventually I got it in the net and took the fly from it’s mouth. I held the Trout up for a couple of photos and then released it into the chilly water. It swam off strongly and I was a happy bunny. A big, wild Trout from a lovely stream, it doesn’t get any better.

We wandered back upstream, watching the water for rising fish. I had seen a monster in a secluded pool at the start of the day. My host, also called Nigel, worked his fly up under the trees but there was no response.

A sausage sandwich and a pint at the pub allowed me to cool down and recuperate, ready for the afternoon session. After lunch we fished a stretch of more open water. I saw a couple of nice fish below a bridge, they were feeding. They were moving up and down a pool under a big old Willow Tree. I flicked a Mayfly imitation over one of the fish but it didn’t react. I swapped to a badger winged Mayfly and that was taken immediately. As the fish charged off downstream I held it too hard and the tippet broke. It was a good fish, damn.

We walked upstream, there were broad open reaches, deep corners and gravelly shallows with thousands of minnows. It was good to see such a healthy stream with crystal clear water. Near the top of the stretch I found a fish rising just below a Ranunculus bed, it rose to an Olive but I was too slow. At the top I caught a small, wild fish from a weedy glide under an Alder tree. We sat in the shade for a while and cooled down.

Lower down the stream widened out as it dropped over a weir below which was a deep pool with a huge weed bed. Down the nearside the water was deep and fast and along the far bank was a shallow gravel run. I saw a Trout’s tail waving under the trailing weed fronds and crouched down for cover, it hadn’t seen me. I tied on a nameless, olive bodied fly with a bushy ginger hackle. Two Trout about a couple of pounds each came out from under the weeds and stationed themselves in the gravel run, perfect!  It was a tricky upstream cast but the fly landed above the fish and floated down, without drag, right over the fish. Nothing. The second cast had the same effect. Both fish swam under the far bank and disappeared into the bankside weeds. There was only about six inches of water and yet two large Trout had hidden themselves completely. I presented the fly ‘up and across’ the stream and drifted it close to the bankside weeds a dozen times but it was ignored. As I watched the stream one of the fish came out from under the bank, across the pool and into the deep run under my bank where it continued to ignore my fly.

Above the weir several fish were rising, one accepted my dry fly and I returned a fat little brownie of about eight ounces. As we were making our way back we saw a fish rise several times. It looked like a good fish. I tried to capture the moment of it’s downfall but although it rose nicely to a Black Gnat, I missed the photo opportunity and Nigel missed the take.

We were both tired. The water had become coloured by cattle upstream so we made our way back to the farmyard and our cars. Tired, hot, thirsty but fulfilled, I would remember the day forever. It had been my best days fishing for a long time.

Thank you very much Nigel 🙂

Yesterday was hot with bright sunshine, lots of Mayfly would have hatched. Today, Monday, was even hotter, over 75 F. There is no point in fishing too early as the Mayfly rise occurs about lunch time, very civilised. Which beat to fish?  The middle beats are ideal but I fancied a change of scene. Rotherbridge is a beautiful place and there are lots of corners and overhanging trees to explore. However, the top beats are demanding and rarely fished, I would go to the top of the river.

The trees were in full leaf and the bankside vegetation was a good height, plenty of cover to hide behind. I saw a rise just above the bridge as I was setting my rod up. I flicked a fly out and the Trout took it immediately. A good start. It was a small, wild fish which swum off strongly when I released it. I moved downstream and found another fish rising just above a fallen Willow bush. This Trout was fussy, it eventually took a spent Mayfly. Further downstream I caught a third fish on a Mayfly. They were all plump little jewels, it was good to see a new generation of Trout.

I eventually got to the Monster Pool. A small fish was rising in the shallow run just above the pool. As I was preparing to cast, I saw an enormous Trout cruise up the middle of the run. It was swimming slowly, not feeding and disappeared into a small clump of streamer weed. It might be a Sea Trout. I flicked the Mayfly at it but it showed no interest. I rested the pool, keeping watch for the Monster but I didn’t see it again. I estimated the fish to be between six and eight pounds, a true giant. After about thirty minutes a fish rose under the far bank, it took me several attempts to present the fly correctly. It was another small, wild fish. I will return to that pool next time, it has always been a good place for me.

I had caught four small, wild Trout and that was enough. There is no point in fishing purely for numbers, it then becomes a chore. When I got back to the Land Rover a column of male Mayfly Spinners were fluttering up and down alongside it, they probably thought it was a bush ! One Mayfly had settled on the green paint. It posed nicely for a photo. I had a pint of ‘Blonde Bird’ at The Badgers before heading home.

========================================