I only need a few patterns. I have hundreds of flies in pretty boxes which are rarely opened. Over fifty years ago I tied flies semi-professionally, I still like to tie them in batches. The first fly is always scruffy and off-pattern. That’s the one that catches the trout !
GRHE nymph
My car park fly. It frequently stays on the tippet all day. When I clip it off and put it back in the ammo box, I leave a little tag of nylon on the hook so I know it’s been used.
Adams-ish
Not the original pattern. It’s a just a small dry fly that looks like a Grey Duster and Adams cross dresser. I’ve nearly run out of decent grizzle hackles.
Black Buzzer
A realistic imitation made from closed cell Neoprene. I control the sink rate by trimming the white tag. Fished static on a fine tippet, this will catch fish all year round. If I can’t catch trout on this fly, I go home.
Quality Street Sedge
The coloured plastic wrappers from Quality Street chocolates are a joy to collect. Other brands are available. Strawberry creme, caramel and those big, round, flat yellow toffees are the best for sedge flies. Fortunately, each wrapper is only enough for a couple of flies ! The sunlight glows through the plastic wing which doesn’t get soggy.
I have a camera case full of materials, some of which are fifty years old. I haven’t bought feathers for many years, I just pick them up when I’m fishing. My favourite hooks, Tiemco 103bl, are in very short supply, probably due to their popularity. I don’t use beads. I’ve never seen an insect with a huge brass blob for a head.
It was a season of disruptions. In Devon the prolonged rain in the spring and regular spates throughout the summer, meant that the rivers were full. Dartmoor was saturated all year and remained green until the autumn. The spates kept me off the water. The few sea trout that made it from the sea back to the rivers, quickly made their way to the high moor. When I visited Sussex, the Rother was often muddy and unfishable, I spent most of the weekends in Sussex casting to educated trout in the lakes.
I fished the Devon rivers on twenty occasions and the waters in Sussex about a dozen times. That was probably the least number of fishing trips I have ever made in one season. I made only one visit to the Tamar and didn’t fish Burrator at all. On the one occasion that I planned to fish Burrator, the website refused to validate my payment for the permit and nobody answered the helpline phone. How frustrating.
February was a game changer, I bought the Sage ESN #3 that I had agonised over a few years earlier, trying to justify the horrendous expense. The rod performed much better than I had imagined and became my favourite when fishing the Devon rivers. It was under powered for the big brownies in the River Rother.
For most of August and part of September I was confined to the village, while the cottage roof was replaced. The weather was kind but I felt imprisoned, unable to escape the dust and debris. The 300 year old cottage is now drier, warmer and quieter. Somethings are more important than fishing.
During the summer I seemed to spend more time on fishing club admin than actually fishing. Battling with young college kids who have no idea about testing software or customer service took up several hours each day. Gen Z techno jargon and lame excuses were infuriating.
Little Bognor 4lb+
I caught two memorable trout, one from the lakes and the other from the Rother. They had something in common. At the lake, I was concentrating, in the zone. Twenty yards away, I saw a fish travelling just under the surface, turn towards the buzzer and create a wake. It had fixed on the fly and to secure the take, I lifted the rod gently. The perfectly induced take avoided a last second rejection. The fight and size of the fish were irrelevant. The tug is the drug.
On the river, I sat upstream of an alder tree on the far bank, a raft of flood debris had gathered around the low hanging branches. I was confident that a trout lived there. At the end of a cast as I lifted off, I saw a very subtle swirl behind the fly. Auto-cast kicked in, the perfectly placed nymph sunk, the leader moved and I lifted into a trout. It had all happened without conscious thought, all of the process had been intuitive. Magic.
The GRHE nymph was my car park fly. On several trips I didn’t bother to change the fly. I was confident that if I found a trout and the presentation was good, the fish would take. I could happily use a GRHE nymph on the rivers and a black neoprene buzzer on the lakes, for the entire season.
Little Bognor
I used various split cane rods from my collection when the occasion felt right. I added the Hardy ‘Pope’ to the rod cupboard, the reel fitting needs fettling during the winter. The big, heavy, high-tech DSLR was reserved for photo shoots but will see the light more during the Dartmoor winter.
I ended the season with a weekend at the lakes in Sussex, the Rother was flooded again. I nearly turned back at Billingshurst as torrential rain lashed the windscreen. I persevered and was rewarded with two nice rainbows from Great Springs and two browns from Little Bognor. A nice way to end the season.
The salmon was listed as an endangered species by the International Union for the Conservation of Nature (IUCN) in December 2023, having suffered a 30-50% decline since 2006 and a projected 50-80% decline since 2010. The decline is more severe in the west country, the southern limit of the salmon’s habitat. The 2023 EA report on salmon and sea trout was depressing.
The weekend was probably my last chance to fish in Sussex until next season. The previous week had been mild for mid October but the morning was chilly and the lawn was silvery with dew. The south westerly wind brought torrential rain on the drive to Petworth and I considered turning back. However, the bright sky over the Downs convinced me that a break in the weather would give me a few hours beside the lakes. The rain was forecast to return at 2:00pm. No pressure.
At Great Springs the trout were rising for buzzers and a good fish took my imitation second cast, it was about two and a half pounds and swam away from the landing net strongly, back to the cold deep water near the bank. I expected to catch several more trout but the disturbance had put all the fish down and the surface of the lake remained flat calm for several hours. It was good to see swallows skimming the water, something I’d not seen all year.
Later, as the rain clouds swept across the Downs, a trout surged towards my fly making a wake. I slowly lifted the rod to induce a take and connected with a solid fish which was identical in colouring and weight to my first. I drove to Luffs but as I was about to cast, heavy rain started to fall and I left the rising fish for the following day.
Sunday – Little Bognor
The weather forecast predicted a sunny day with a breeze. It was no surprise to find a still, dull overcast morning. I deleted the Met Office app from my phone. I watched the water at Great Springs while I had a cup of tea, nothing moved. There were fish moving at Luffs but they were well out of casting range and I drove to Little Bognor.
Little Bognor was deserted and a few fish were moving. The lake was calm and the surface had a scattering of autumn leaves. I dropped a black spider ahead of a fish cruising slowly past in open water. It saw the fly and veered away. A trout rose very close to the bank, next to a fallen branch. I took a risk and flicked the fly close to the twigs, then twitched the leader. I hooked the fish and held it until it had splashed itself away from the snag. The autumn colours along the flank of the brown trout matched the colours of the beech mast and leaves. I dragged the branch out of the water, it was a lot bigger than I thought.
Extracting the trout and the branch, had driven the fish away, towards the stone steps, below Rex Vicat-Coles long dead chestnut tree. As usual a fish was cruising inside the curtain of overhanging branches. Another risky cast landed the fly just inside the tree canopy and after a couple of tweaks, the leader rose from its curve and I lifted into another trout. A brace in ten minutes ! I crept along the stone path and watched a fish from behind a wall of ferns. I extended about ten yards of line along the short mown grass and waited for the trout to come within range. The tippet landed awkwardly across a floating leaf. I repeated the process a few times until the fish saw the fly and grabbed it. It came unstuck after a few seconds. As I walked around the lake I saw another fish feeding near the outflow but decided that two and a half fish was enough for one afternoon. It’s always good to end the day on a high note.
The last day of the Devon brown trout season. I had made plans to fish the Tavy on the last day, to catch another monster trout on the lower beat. Four days earlier I had walked beside the River Plym. I could tell from the peaty water flowing under the bridge in the village that the Plym would not be fishable and took my camera instead of a rod. No pressure.
The weak sunshine occasionally broke through the overcast sky and lit up the white water racing down the valley towards Plymouth Sound. The woodland was quiet, the soggy leaves and moss deadened my footsteps as I wandered downstream, pausing to look back at the river and compose a shot.
Gale force winds and heavy rain overnight ruined my plans for the last day of the season. I could hear the water thundering under the old bridge long before I saw the foam and heavily peat stained spate. Water had risen to engulf the flood defences and had left a line of leaves and debris across the grass, marking the high water mark. The river was dropping but not quickly enough.
The spate would bring silver tourists up the river but I had no interest in bothering fish that are teetering on the brink of extinction from the Devon rivers. Salmon had been seen in the Bridge Pool and I saw a couple of groups of sea trout above the fish pass ten days ago. On home ground, it seemed rude to interrupt their journey upstream to the spawning grounds high on the moor.
It’s been an odd season. We seemed to have a spate every week throughout the summer. There was plenty of water but not many trout. The handful of small trout dashing around below the bridge, taking midges in the evening, had disappeared, probably washed downstream.
It’s time to tie a few flies, restore an old rod and to explore Burrator which remains open until late into the autumn. I might also visit the Tamar to see if the grayling have evaded the cormorants.
I realised last week that the trout season in Devon would end in a few days. I needed to fit in several trips to the rivers. The weather was windy, warm and bright, I wanted somewhere with plenty of shade. Deep in the valley, the River Walkham beckoned. The beat is left wild, unspoilt. Moreover, access is behind locked gates, keeping walkers and spaniels away from the river.
I walked down the gently sloping track, stopping occasionally to listen and look around the woodland. The white noise from the wind in the tree tops was pierced by buzzards mewing while looking for lunch.
I wandered further down the track looking for a familiar tree and an easy path through the bracken and fallen trees. I slid down the bank and found the bridge over the leat, high above the river. The river looked perfect, slightly above normal level with only a few leaves spinning in the current.
I sat on a mossy log and threaded the fly line through the rod rings. I flicked the GRHE nymph upstream and worked it through the flat water and around the boulders. I stumbled occasionally, watching the leader while feeling for a secure foothold was tricky. I worked my way upstream until a rock wall blocked my progress. The deep pool beside the cliff probably held trout but they showed no interest in my fly.
I turned downstream and drifted the nymph through the deep water on the outside of several bends. Nothing. A twenty yard long, slow moving pool also failed to produce a fish.
I retraced my steps back to the path and walked to the bottom of the valley. Above the weir and fish pass, the open water was ruffled by a stiff breeze providing good cover. I dropped the nymph over the edge of a rock wall where I had seen a good fish on a previous visit. Nothing. As I walked upstream looking for signs of fish, the wind dropped and the flat calm left me exposed to the spooky fish.
I paced myself as I walked uphill for half mile back to the Defender. Although I hadn’t caught anything, I had enjoyed the scenery. I had a beef stew and a couple of glasses of red wine in the pub to end the day.
I boosted my confidence the next day. I took the old Mk IV and Mitchell 300 to the lake on the moor and caught a beautiful 10lb common carp off the surface.
Sussex Trout Fishing ... and Devon 