Author: Nigel Rainton

The last day of March, not long until the River opens. It was a lovely Spring day, North wind, fluffy white clouds in a blue sky and sunshine just like the South of France. Too bright without Ray Bans.

The trout were moving, some were rising to hatching buzzers. I caught a couple of Rainbows from Great Springs, both on an olive nymph fished deep. I had a leisurely lunch in front of the fishing hut, BLT and a cup of tea. Proper job.

I had a lengthy chat with Tony the Keeper and I raised the topic of a Catch and Release experiment on one of the lakes. He will consult with some of the other members.

I need to tie some black nymphs for next Monday.

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Storm Kate had filled the back garden with water and knocked some trees over but the high winds had abated by late afternoon. I had the lake to myself. It was relaxing sitting beside the water in the sunshine but the breeze was a problem. I had a rainbow on a small Montana and then lost another bigger fish. It was time to find somewhere sheltered.

After a short drive I signed in at a lake deep in the woods, the Secretary was already there in the hotspot. First cast with a small, leaded GRHE nymph produced a hard fighting brownie. After 45 minutes I had a take from another fish which fought really hard, it was foul-hooked in the side !

A couple of pints at the Black Horse and then pan fried trout fillets for tea. It had been an easy start to the season.

It all started in the summer of 1959. The family went on a picnic to Middle Bridge at Wallers Haven on Pevensey Marsh. It was a hot Sunday afternoon. My brother and I had a Spanish reed fishing rod, a porcupine quill float and one hook tied to nylon. We used flour and water paste for bait and caught lots of small roach. The float laid flat on the water and twitched and vibrated when the tiny roach nibbled at the bait. If the float cocked or disappeared, we pulled the line in and the little fish swung back and forth, wriggling to escape before one of us grabbed it and took the hook out.

The old geezer fishing next to us caught nothing, he was a bit miffed. After a while the fisherman called me over and put a maggot on the hook. He told me that I would catch a Perch. I lowered the float into the water near the reeds and watched. I didn’t know what a Perch looked like. It wasn’t long before the float disappeared and I held aloft a stripey Perch. It was very small, not what I had imagined. Unfortunately, while removing the hook, the hooklength broke and that was the end of our first fishing adventure. The fisherman looked pleased to see us go. We were probably too noisy.

On a later trip to Wallers Haven my brother caught a Bream which we took home. It was not very happy in the bucket and died, the cat had it for supper.

I have not fished at Wallers Haven for 55 years but I regularly drive across the bridge. I always slow down and look, apart from the trees having grown, it hasn’t changed. Perhaps I will stop and fish there again one day.

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April 3, the start of the new Trout season, is only a few weeks away. I am looking forward to my first trout fishing trip since last November. At the start of last season I had a cunning plan. It worked!  I was surprised because so many of my plans are abandoned at the first set back.

What is the plan for 2016? That is tricky. Last year the plan was inside my head, this year it’s here for people to read. My main objective is to catch a sea trout. Any size will do. They do not enter the river until late summer so I have plenty of time to prepare. It’s a realistic objective as several are caught each season. The bottom beat was electro fished by the EA last year and they caught 10 sea trout, heaviest about 10lb, in a short stretch below a weir. I made a feeble attempt to catch a sea trout last year but this year I must persevere.

So what about the early part of the season, prior to the Mayfly? Do I try for another monster trout from the top beat?  Yes, of course. That will be more out of curiosity than anything else. I want to know if last year’s monsters were just a fluke. It is extremely unlikely that I will catch another big brownie but I have to try. I foresee quite a few blank trips in the jungle of the top beat.

I don’t set myself goals for the number or size of trout.  I’ve grown out of that. It’s not about the numbers of fish caught. I’ve lost interest in catching lots of trout.  There is no point to it. I don’t know exactly how many trout I caught last year. Similarly, size is not important. If I wanted to catch a 20lb trout, I could go to Avington.

I must spend more time watching the water and each trip I must have a proper lunch. A restful lunch at the pub or by the river under a suitable tree makes the day complete. I would like to improve my casting and presentation skills. I tend to slap the fly down onto the water, a higher trajectory is required.

Occasionally I will stay on past Opening Time and fish the evening rise.  There is so much more wildlife about and sunset is a great time for photography.

I will write something about each fishing adventure. Even if I don’t catch any trout I will update my Diary. The reel has been serviced, a new line loaded and a few flies tied.

Game on.

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I had accepted an invitation to the Apsley Estate near Hurstbourne Priors, for a guided tour of the Bourne. The invitation was to see the stretch of water described by Harry Plunkett Greene in ‘Where the Bright Waters Meet’. My journey West was uneventful except for the SatNav which proudly declared that I had arrived at my destination while waiting at the traffic lights outside Boots in the centre of Winchester !

It was a cold blustery day which was very appropriate as Harry had repeatedly complained about the North East wind that blows down the Bourne Valley. The Bourne Valley is a beautiful place, not part of the normal world. It is quintessentially English, peaceful and oozing charm. I had entered a time warp and felt privileged to be in such a calming environment.

The plan was to visit the places featured in the book and compare the Bourne in 1902 to 2016. The river was in fine, winter condition and I saw several good fish. I walked upstream towards the Iron Bridge where I paused to look over the railings. I can never resist looking over a bridge parapet.

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The river at the Sawmill was every anglers dream. A large header pool had been built in the 17th century to provide a constant supply of water for the mill. The pool was calm with rising trout and the mill race was a torrent of white water. Both were very therapeutic.

It was icy cold so we adjourned to the pub for a pint and lunch. We finished the tour with a visit to the Bright Waters just below the viaduct. The Bourne had hardly changed, the eastern arm of the river was a little overgrown but otherwise it could have been 1902.

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On the long journey home, the SatNav refused to talk to me. I think it was sulking because I had taken a short cut. When I arrived home my mind was in a whirl of crystal clear water, rising trout and deep pools. The next time I read his book I will recall my visit and know exactly where Harry was standing and how he felt.

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