Sussex Trout Fishing … and Devon

The hot sunny weather had persisted. The combination of Spring shoots, birdsong, flowers and the hot Summer sun felt strange. The context was wrong. I wandered around the lower lake at Little Bognor. The sun slanting down through the Beech trees was magical and I paused to admire the grand old trees. Beech are my favourite trees after Oak, perhaps it’s because the two woods are so hard and beautifully marked. I sat on the moss which was crunchy with Beech mast and watched the fish, they were very close to the bank. The top lake looks like a scene from a postcard but it is more open and doesn’t have the same mysterious atmosphere as its companion. Perhaps that’s why Sir Edward Elgar was attracted to the little lake under the trees.

I made my way through the centre of Petworth to Great Springs. The mustard plants were patchy but the bright yellow was in stark contrast to the very heavy blue haze that obscured the South Downs. The air was thick and sultry, it felt thundery. As I drove along the Estate road a Kestrel whizzed across the front of the Land Rover and dived into the grass verge. There was a bit of a scuffle and the bird emerged without anything in its talons. A bit further along the road a Skylark rose from the edge of the field and fluttered into the air. Do Kestrels eat Skylarks ?

I made a cup of tea and walked around Little Springs. There was nothing much to see, the Trout were not very active. However, I had a surprise while wandering along the top end of Great Springs. A massive shoal of Roach fry were sunning themselves. They must have been washed into the lake from the silt trap. They were being harried by several fast swimming Trout. I went to Lower Figgs and found another surprise. A sprig of Canadian Pondweed, Elodea Canadensis, which had floated down the feeder stream. Within a few weeks of the lakes being dredged and refilled, fish and plant species were re-colonizing the water. Alder flies were hatching and crawling over everything. The fish were rising and the lake looked lovely. The restoration had been a great success.

Later, at the Keepers cottage, I had a coffee and biscuits over a chat about fish, the environment and licences. Two EA bailiffs were not surprised to learn that in nearly 60 years of fishing I had never been asked to produce my licence. I had hoped to fish the river and after coffee, I visited every Beat. I found the river low but coloured. I decided that a relaxing afternoon at Little Bognor was preferable to a hot fishless session on the river. I returned to the cool, peaceful woods and had a proper lunch. Beer and an ‘All Day Breakfast’ sandwich. Excellent.

 

As usual I had a cunning plan. I had tied a size 20 Adams with a 2lb bs tippet incorporated in the dressing. This removed the need for a hook knot and could not fail to impress a fussy Trout. What could possibly go wrong ? A wind knot developed in the tippet, just above the fly, before I had a chance to cast. On the first cast I lost the fly in a tree behind me.

Plan B was a size 14 Neoprene Black Buzzer. I lost several in various trees. Eventually a fish rose close to me, I flicked a buzzer at it and the first Trout was hooked. The rises stopped and I rested the fish. Sitting in a convenient mossy hollow was very relaxing. For the next episode I chose a size 20 hatching midge imitation. I had three good takes but missed them all. The short stiff hackle shielded the hook.

 

The fish were searching the bankside debris for food. I sat and waited until a fish came within range. It took a buzzer without hesitation and Trout number two was netted and returned to the lake. It had a mark on its nose which looked like a scar from a tippet. It had been caught before. I cast a buzzer to a couple of fish rising close to the South bank. One of the fish swirled at the buzzer but I failed to connect. While walking back around the lake towards the Land Rover I studied the fish feeding in the weeds. I realized that they were taking water skaters not buzzers. I must tie some imitations.

It had been a great day, more walking and chatting than fishing, but very enjoyable.

 

Spring lasted about a week. Summer had arrived. Yesterday was a scorcher, temperatures in the low seventies and a clear blue sky. Our English climate is now more continental than maritime. I’d watched the river level drop to 0.110m yesterday. No rain was forecast for at least a week. There would be a few days to catch over-wintered and wild Trout before the river was stocked.

On 18 April last year the river was at 0.032m following a very dry winter. A lot of over-wintered fish were caught plus several good Sea Trout. Last April the oil seed was in full bloom and the water flowing through the Fish Pass was crystal clear. A year later the level was 0.96m and the water was coloured.

I looked at the Fish Pass but the water was turbulent and too coloured so I drove to Rotherbridge. Somebody had caught ‘my’ Trout the day before. I was disappointed not to have made its acquaintance. I checked the catch returns at Keepers Bridge and wandered down through the woods to look at the river. The scent of the bluebells was strong with just a hint of crushed wild garlic. The bankside grass was being cut so I decided to spend the morning on the Beat below Taylor’s Bridge.

The wind was from the South and it was quite hot as I stood beside the Land Rover and set up my rod. The clouds were high and wispy, they looked like the remnants of vapour trails from aircraft heading towards Europe. Although it was mid-morning the temperature was already in the mid seventies. I fished the first pool below the bridge thoroughly for about thirty minutes and was surprised not to get a take. The fly was working well and the marginal weed looked very fishy. I swapped the fly and tried again to no avail. I walked slowly to the Shallow Pool, it was too hot for striding out. I sat on the grass and watched the pool. I saw a young mink on a raft of rubbish, it was scratching itself and enjoying the sunshine. It didn’t take any notice of me and eventually disappeared into the bushes. I spent an hour covering the pool but the heat got the better of me and I returned to the Land Rover via Ladymead. It was lunchtime.

I had lunch from the back of the Land Rover in the shade under the trees at Keepers Bridge. Very civilized. After lunch I drove to Lavington and had a walk in the woods. That was not a good idea. I got overheated and dehydrated. I later learnt that it had been the hottest April day since 1949, I should have gone to the pub. I called in at Little Bognor on the return journey, the fish were rising in the shallow corner under the old Yew tree and all along that bank. I was exhausted, too tired to cast a line. After a brief rest under the trees I drove away. Hopefully, next time the river will be clearer and the Trout will be easier to find.

 

It was a beautiful Spring morning. The air was clean and fresh. The wind was quite blustery but kept the clouds on the move. As I drove along the lane at Riverhill the landscape looked like it had been painted by John Constable which was quite appropriate. I stopped at the gate, definitely not 18th Century, and watched the clouds billowing over the South Downs. The prevailing wind was driving up the Channel and climbing up the chalk ridge. The light was constantly changing and had a soft pink tint.

I walked around Little Bognor, the water had cleared and the shafts of light highlighted the Beech leaves on the bottom of the lake. There was a solitary bluebell beside the track leading to the top lake. This time last year there were millions of bluebells in the woods. Everything had been checked by the snow and was about a month late.

I left Little Bognor and went to Taylors Bridge. The water had dropped a little but was still very coloured. I drove to Rotherbridge to check on the resident Trout. One of the fish was there but spooked as soon as it saw me. That fish had been in the same location for nearly two weeks but as the water level drops, it will have to find shrimps elsewhere.

I drove to Great Springs and had my usual cup of tea and a biscuit. There were lots of fish rising at Little Springs. They were feeding, not just splashing and jumping. After discussing the catch returns I parked the Land Rover at Hungers Lane and walked down the slope to cover the fish from the North bank. I would have the sun in my face and I could cast to the Trout without it seeing the fly line. There were two flaws in my cunning plan; with the wind against me I could not reach the far bank and a tractor drove along the South bank putting the fish down.

I returned to Little Bognor and had lunch in the sunshine while watching the Trout. Debris from the trees blew down the lake and into the corner under the old Yew tree. Trout were testing the leaves and buds to see if they were edible. There was such a lot of debris that it was impossible for the fish to find a dry fly at that end of the lake. I moved around the lake and covered a few rising fish but they were ultra spooky and disappeared as soon as I cast. I packed up after an hour, I was tired and couldn’t concentrate.

I enjoyed the time in the sunshine and anticipated success on the river later in the week.

The early morning was a white-out with pale watery sunshine. It looked as if the fog would burn away and leave a sunny day. The fog became denser as I drove South. At Little Bognor the air was chill and the fog hung in the Silver Birches. The water was flat calm and a few Trout were rising. A couple of members were fishing on the bottom lake so I ambled up the slope to the top lake and checked that all was in order. In that short time the sun had strengthened and the fog had evaporated.

I went to Rotherbridge to check the height of the river and to see if the two Trout I found feeding in the margins last Saturday were still there. To my surprise they were in exactly the same place. Feeding on shrimps in very shallow water. Both fish shot back into deep water when they saw me. I planned to return to Rotherbridge after visiting the other beats and lakes. I drove up the old railway line to Taylor’s Bridge and walked downstream on the North bank. The gauge said the river height was 0.143m, down from 0.155m on Friday, but it was quite coloured with run-off from the lettuce fields. The Shallow Pool looked inviting, the streamer weed was waving around in the current, bright green fronds in the caramel coloured water.

I walked back to the Land Rover and drove through Petworth to Great Springs. The water in the lake had cleared a bit and I saw two Trout close to the bank. They weren’t feeding, they looked distressed but I couldn’t see any Cormorant marks. There were a few fish rising at Luffs and Lower Figgs. At Upper Figgs there were about twenty fish cruising, swirling and snatching debris off the surface. It looked like a shoal of newly stocked Trout.

I returned to Rotherbridge, keen to cast a fly to the two shrimping fish. There was a constant hum from the bees in the Hawthorn and Willow trees and a lone Gorse bush was surrounded by Hawthorn flies. The bushes below the bridge didn’t give me much cover so I knelt down well away from the edge. It needed restraint, careless casting would spook the fish. I gently put a short line out and allowed the tip of the fly line to hang on a weed stem so that the leader would swing in towards the bank. I repeated the cast, twitching the line to give the fly movement. Every few casts I extended the line a little, changing the path along which the fly worked. After thirty minutes I moved down the bank a couple of paces and put the fly line over a weedbed. A good sized Trout dashed out of the weeds into midstream. Perhaps the rod flashed in the sunlight or I had lined the fish. While I was cursing my luck the other fish, which was about a yard further down the bank, departed in a puff of silt. I didn’t abandon hope, I thought the fish would be on the bottom in the deeper water. They were not. I covered the pool expecting a thump on the rod at any moment but it never came. Nevermind, the Shallow Pool would produce a fish.

As I walked downstream from Taylor’s Bridge the hot sun, the smell of the newly cut grass and the bright green buds on the bushes confirmed the arrival of Spring. There were very few birds about but lots of insects; midges, Hawthorn flies and Bumble bees. The main current in the Shallow Pool was along the far bank. The width of the pool caused the flow to lose momentum and there was a long slack on my side. I spent an hour working the fly down and across, exploring the edge of the weed beds along my bank. As I reached the end of the pool I realised that it was not going to provide my first river Trout of the season. I had a few casts at Ladymead but although I could see the sandbank, the current was far too strong and the turbulent water too coloured. The water level should have dropped by Monday.

 

The weather had changed for the better. The forecast predicted warm Spring sunshine for the rest of April. For several days I’d checked the river level while having breakfast and lunch. The latest level was shown as 0.234m and falling but that was clearly wrong because when I arrived at Keeper’s Bridge, it was much higher and the colour of a Werthers Original. Totally unfishable. I wandered around Ladymead which looked bleak and scarred by over enthusiastic tree felling on the opposite bank. The trunks of two large Alder trees had become snagged in midstream. Good cover for the Trout but casting would be tricky. It was cold, grey, damp and felt like Autumn.

I walked around the lakes and saw fish rising and swirling in the margins. Luffs looked inviting but I decided to fish at Little Bognor as I could return the fish. I drove to Little Bognor and used the back of the Defender to set up my rod and reel. I chose the Hardy Duchess with the cut-down Cortland 444, it had quickly become my favourite reel. I must change my other reels to right hand wind. I tied on an imitation of a hatching midge and flicked it out on a short line. It sat nicely on the surface of the water. After a few casts a Trout rose confidently from directly beneath the fly and gulped it down. I waited a couple of seconds then lifted into the fish. It shook itself free just as I was reaching for the landing net.

The rising fish had moved away from me and I decided to target cruising fish with a buzzer. I had a few takes but couldn’t connect. I changed the pattern to a semi-buoyant black Neoprene buzzer that hung just under the surface. The tuft of Partridge represented the hatching fly.

The leader seemed to pause in the ripple and I lifted the rod not confident of a response. A Trout had taken the fly very gently. It made several long runs and I let the reel spin silently to release line. I released the fish and concentrated on my technique. I had a few more tentative takes but didn’t hook anything. It was getting cold so I packed up, took a few photos and headed for home. I hope the river soon becomes fishable, Little Bognor is a lovely place but it’s not a substitute for flowing water.

 

The last few trips have been interesting. Fly patterns that I have developed have proved to be successful and I now feel confident that I can catch Trout that are preoccupied, feeding on caenis, midges and hatching buzzers.