‘Wood magic … so delicate and elusive’
‘A fine spirits lifelong wistful brooding upon the loveliness of earth’
‘The wonder of the world, the beauty and the power, the shapes of things ….’
‘… their colours, lights and shades; these I saw, look ye also while life lasts.’
The Sinister Trees
Sir Edward and Lady Alice
I started my day at Bedham. It was a beautiful Spring morning and I decided to take a detour through the woods. The single track road from Bedham to Fittleworth was deserted and I stopped for a wander through the trees. I explored the headlands of a wheat field at Fittleworth and watched the clouds billowing up along the South Downs.
The lakes at Little Bognor were calm and the fish were hiding. It was only 10:00am but the sun was warm and it was too hot for a jacket. I visited the river knowing that it was very high and coloured. There would be no chance of a Rother Trout for several days. I went to Great Springs via Tillington and had a look at Lower Figgs on the way. I saw my first Mayfly beside Little Springs, it fluttered into the top of a tree where it would be safe. I looked on the underside of the new leaves but I couldn’t find any more. The long winter has delayed everything, last year I saw my first Mayfly on 1st May. I walked around the lakes with a cup of tea and chocolate biscuit for breakfast. There were millions of tadpoles in the margins and the Trout were picking them off.
I thought it would be too easy to catch a fish there, a Black Spider twitched back into the margins would be irresistible. I went to Luffs where the air was thick with Hawthorn flies and midges. I strolled down the track to Upper Figgs and watched the fish rising under the trees. I hung over the bridge rail looking down into the stream between the two lakes and saw three good Trout patrolling just above a weed bed. The current was strong and the fish were active. I returned to Luffs for my rod and net and positioned myself with the sun in my face, watching the Trout in the stream. One fish was turning on it’s side and slapping itself against the gravel, cutting a redd.
The three fish scattered downstream at my first cast. Although I had lengthened the line on the grass beforehand, I misjudged the distance. There would be no second chance. The Trout were swirling around under a small tree at the top of the lake, waiting for a chance to return to the stream. I decided to rest them and moved further down the lake where fish were hammering the tadpoles. I searched a small bay with a Black Spider, expecting a thump on the rod. I lost three flies as a result of overcasting, the Rio line was not the best choice. It shoots out of the rod rings easily but because of it’s green colouring, I can’t judge it’s flight accurately. A fish swirled at the fly but didn’t take.
With only one weighted Black Spider left in my box I retreated to the South bank of the lake and watched another group of fish feeding very close to the bank. They were taking something from the surface, not tadpoles. I changed to a dry fly. It was ignored. I changed flies several times but the dark shadows passed underneath without a glance. I wondered if my flies were too small and selected a size 12 Walkers Sedge with a long dark wing. A fish took it in the margin as I was twitching it prior to a recast. It fought long and hard and was in perfect condition. I kept it for dinner.
I was exhausted. I had spent most of the day walking rather than fishing. I had seen the Sussex countryside at it’s best.
The south westerly breeze spread the orange bud scales over the surface of the lake. The Trout were cruising just underneath the debris looking for pond skaters and the occasional Olive. There were lots of Alder flies hatching from the grass but the breeze was not strong enough to knock them down onto the water. Fortunately there was a clear stretch of water under the high bank on the east side of the lake.
I had tied some imitations of the pond skaters that the fish were feeding on. I had confidence in the pattern. It would be great to get a couple of the fussy Trout on a custom designed fly.
I crept over the wet moss on my knees until I was beside the little seat. I used the Rio line and a twelve foot leader ending in a 2lb bs tippet. Good presentation was essential. Several fish were feeding close to me. I fired the pond skater imitation onto the water with a bow-and-arrow cast. I twitched the fly to mimic the real thing but although I thought it looked genuine, the Trout did not.
I swapped the fly for a Black Neoprene Spider and after several casts changed that for a palmered dry fly. As I sat watching, a natural Olive fluttered across the surface towards me and was immediately snatched by a good fish. I dragged my fly into the widening ripples but the Trout had moved away. I lost the fly on a branch and moved down the bank to the steps.
Two good fish were patrolling under the branches only ten feet from me. There was enough room for a side cast. I offered the fish a selection of flies but they just swirled underneath the fly and disappeared. I moved further down and stood next to the trunk of a big Beech tree.
I was close enough to the water to be able to dap the fly and shake the rod to give it a realistic buzz. A big fish took a natural less than a foot from my imitation, I twitched the fly to induce a take. There was another swirl but it didn’t convert into the thump on the rod that I expected. The wind suddenly increased and a hail storm forced me to shelter in the hut.
The storm moved away but I was cold and wet. I didn’t want to crawl around on the ground under the trees anymore. I went to the top lake and presented a variety of dry flies to the Trout. They were not impressed. Black clouds were building and another storm loomed over the woods. I signed out and left the lakes. Early morning or late evening is probably the only time I’m going to catch a spooky Trout at Little Bognor.
What has Elgar to do with my fishing diary ? He was a keen fisherman and fished at Little Bognor while living at Brinkwells, a cottage less than a mile from the lakes through the woods and across the fields. Brinkwells is just north of Fittleworth with a view of the Arun valley and the South Downs. On my many visits to Little Bognor I have often wondered if the mature Beech woods and the sheltered lakes inspired his music.
Edward Elgar was born on 2 June 1857. He married Alice on 8 May 1889 and their only child, Carice, was born on 14 August 1890. On 2 May 1917 Alice and Carice went to Fittleworth to see a cottage. They walked to the cottage from the Inn. Alice recorded in her diary “Lovely place, sat in lovely wood and heard a nightingale, turtle doves and many other birds. Saw lizards and heard Cuckoo first time. Also saw swallows, lovely hot day. Much perplexed as cottage is so very cottagy but large studio and lovely view and woods, dear place. Finally took it for June. Lovely walk through woods and by primroses to Station”. At the time Fittleworth had its own railway station on the line from Petworth to Midhurst.
In May 1918, the Elgar family returned to Brinkwells. Edward was recovering from having his tonsils removed. In August, he had one of his pianos installed at Brinkwells. The day after the piano arrived, he set to work on a sonata for violin and piano. Alice noticed at once that it was different from anything he had written before. She called it “wood magic … so delicate and elusive.” Elgar completed the sonata within weeks and in Adrian Boult’s words, “a new note of fantasy, of freedom and of economy” had come into Elgar’s music.
While living at Brinkwells Elgar recovered his strength and in 1918 and 1919 he produced four large-scale works. The first three of these were chamber pieces: the Violin Sonata in E minor, the Piano Quintet in A minor and the String Quartet in E minor. On hearing the work in progress, Alice Elgar wrote in her diary, “E. writing wonderful new music“. After the Premieres of the three pieces in the Spring of 1919, he began to write a cello concerto. His Cello Concerto in E Minor, Opus 85, is a sombre work, reflecting the sorrows faced by England at the end of World War I. It had its Première on 27 October 1919 with the London Symphony Orchestra. It was a disaster because Elgar and the performers had been deprived of adequate rehearsal time. The critics trashed it, politely. His music went out of fashion and wasn’t revived until the 1960’s.
Elgar’s map of Brinkwells
Elgar’s greatest music is regarded as quintessentially English. That is not surprising. He was an English country gentleman with appropriate hobbies. He was a cyclist, nature lover, fisherman, golfer and was keen on horse racing. Betting not riding. He fished in his native Herefordshire and Sussex. One of his favourite spots was close to Mordiford Bridge on the River Lugg. He fished on the River Teme where he gained inspiration for The Music Makers and other sections of his symphonies. In one of his notebooks he wrote “Mem: four trout (decent) three (small) put back”. It’s good to know he released fish, he was ahead of his time as most fish were killed for the table. Elgar left Brinkwells in August 1921.
Elgar loved the countryside and the rural surroundings helped his recovery. I am convinced that some of his music was inspired by the woods, birds and animals that he saw while walking his dog or fishing at Little Bognor.
The weather had cooled slightly after last nights thunderstorms. The wind had a slight chill and the air was clean. Everything looked set for a great day in deepest Sussex.
After a bit of a delay I eased the Land Rover through the gates at Little Bognor and looked through the trees to see if anyone was fishing. It was deserted, no trout were rising and the surface of the lake was covered with the orange debris from the Beech tree buds. I lifted the metal grid on the outflow and thousands of tiny leaves were drawn from the margins, down the outflow stream. The surface of the top lake was clear and a couple of fish rose as I was wandering around. It was quiet and had a relaxing atmosphere.
I visited all the Beats on the river and all the lakes, to collect the catch returns. It had been a good week. Two over-wintered fish had been caught at Rotherbridge. I was tempted to fish at Lower Figgs where there were no trees to snag my flies. On balance I thought a peaceful afternoon on the top lake at Little Bognor was a better option. I remembered from my last visit that the Trout were feeding on Pond Skaters in the margins. There were lots of the fast moving creatures by the outflow stream. I chose a size 14 black Neoprene Spider with Partridge hackles. It looked similar to the skaters and would float indefinitely.
I sat on a large lump of stone in the corner of the lake and worked the fly close to the bank. As usual several fish were rising close to the weeping Willow tree. I covered the water towards the feeding fish without response. A fish rose close to a lily pad and I put the fly in the ring of ripples at the first attempt. The Trout took the fly immediately and got hung up on the lily pad. The only lily pad in the entire lake ! I had a 4lb bs tippet as I’d run out of lighter nylon, so I bullied the fish into open water. I netted the fish which looked pristine, possibly a wild trout. It flicked its tail and darted out of the net none the worse for being caught.
That corner of the lake was trashed so I crept around to the other side of the Willow tree and sat on the grass about fifteen feet back from the water. I curled a cast around the tree but the fly was ignored. Several times. I tied on a small dry fly with a pale ginger palmered hackle and a tag of white Neoprene. That was also ignored. I trimmed the tag and recast. The fly sat lower in the surface film. A Trout took the fly and shot into the trailing Willow fronds. It wriggled off the hook, leaving it stuck in a branch. I netted the branch and trimmed it to avoid a repeat performance. I cast to several rising fish on my left but they were put off by the heavy tippet. I moved to the overflow and cast to a rising fish which took confidently. It dived into the lily pad but I dragged it out. Then it came off !
The big Chestnut tree kept the sun off me and I was getting cold. I walked to the bottom lake and sat in the sun among the Beech trees. I had approached carefully and the fish were only a rod length away. They were taking Pond Skaters so I switched back to a black Neoprene spider. I cast sideways and managed to position the fly under the branches, close to the bank, without snagging the leader. Consistently. A fish followed the spider along the margin and swirled but didn’t connect. It might have seen me. The wind was kind, it blew the debris away from the bank leaving a stretch of clear water for me to explore. Trout were rising under my rod tip but they were leader shy and I had no takes. I replaced the metal screen on the outflow and left the lakes. I need some lighter leader material and a more convincing imitation of Pond Skaters. It was a great day, very relaxing.
Sussex Trout Fishing ... and Devon 