Sussex Trout Fishing … and Devon

The morning was damp and chilly, the south westerly wind and grey skies were ideal for fishing. It seemed as if Autumn had arrived in July. There was no point in waiting for the evening and the light to fade, the sky was dull enough at 9:00am. I arrived at Rotherbridge at 11:00am and decided to fish downstream, Beat E, but on the North bank. I had never fished that stretch from the Rotherbridge Farm side and it would be like fishing a new river.

I started by the bridge, got snagged in the trees a few times and decided to explore as far downstream as possible. I fished the shallow stretch below the bridge, working the nymph between the numerous clumps of rushes and streamer weed. I saw a couple of fish splash but had no takes. The fish were splashing and leaping, they weren’t feeding. I walked down to the first bend but there was no sign of Trout under the trees. I found a crystal clear spring with a good flow of water. It was a miniature chalk stream full of shrimps.

I went further downstream and worked a few likely looking pools but the sun had broken through the clouds and the fish had gone deep into the tree roots. I fished a few pools on the way back to the bridge but I had lost confidence in the Beat and my concentration. I hid beside the bushes near the bridge and looked for Trout, one was rising under the trees but it was an impossible cast. I hooked the trees a couple of times and decided to have a short break back at the Land Rover. After a bottle of Lucozade and a toffee I reorganised my pockets and went upstream.

I hid behind the rushes and carefully presented a nymph but the downstream wind was getting stronger. After twenty minutes I found a more sheltered pool and methodically searched it with a GRHE nymph. No response. Black clouds loomed over the horizon and I had to shelter under the trees at the edge of the field. While waiting for the rain to stop I tied on a representation of a freshwater shrimp. First cast by the landing stage a wild trout followed the shrimp but veered away at the critical moment.

I walked up to the New Riffle and thoroughly covered it with a large black fly. I had a couple of heart stopping moments but it was streamer weed I’d hooked not a monster Trout. On my way back to the bridge I stopped on the bend and cast my fly alongside a bush on the opposite bank. A very large Trout followed the fly but rolled away back into deeper water. It had probably been caught before and saw through the deception. The wind speed had increased and it was very difficult to control my #3 weight line so I decided to leave and save my energy for the Orvis event the following day.

Five days ago the river had risen dramatically and was coloured by the run-off from the  newly tilled fields. The soil in the river valley is very sandy. The rain came at the wrong time for both harvesting the wheat and planting winter greens. Yesterday the water level was high and the water was quite coloured. I decided not to fish. Today’s weather forecast was very confusing but I thought the river would be in good condition and the trout would be hungry after sheltering from the high water.

Before last week’s rain there were lots of fish around Rotherbridge. The New Riffle is only a short walk from there and I decided to fish Beat D, upstream of the bridge. I arrived about 4:00pm and tackled up beside the Land Rover. As I approached the river I saw several fish rising along the two hundred yard stretch above the bridge. There was also a fish under the bushes beside the bridge.

I hid behind a tall clump of Himalayan Balsam opposite the farm and cast a size 14 dry fly to a rising fish. It took second cast and charged off downstream. A loop of fly line caught on the reel handle and the Trout escaped as my fly pinged back towards me. How annoying. I moved a few yards upstream to another rising fish. I presented several flies carefully. They were inspected, carefully, before being ignored. Even my Neoprene Nymph was rejected. I rested the fish, had a toffee and started again with a size 14 Pheasant Tail. The fish took the fly even though it had previously been rejected. I returned the trout from the landing net and it dashed off into the weeds.

A much bigger fish was crashing about close to my bank just above the big Alder tree. It was feeding with attitude. I tried all the dry flies in the box but the fish eventually disappeared. It was probably my poor presentation that put it down.

I walked up to the straight below the riffle but I couldn’t find a rising fish. On the way back downstream I saw a fish rise by the small landing stage and spent an hour trying to entice it into accepting various patterns. Then the fish changed position, it was feeding closer to me. It was close enough to drop the fly over it with just the leader outside the tip ring. Through a tangle of balsam flowers I saw the fish take the fly. It screamed downstream close to my bank, across the river and into a clump of streamer weed. I bullied it back across the flow and drew an angry Trout into the landing net. It was a short, thickset fish about 2lb. It gave me a dirty look as I released it. Everything about that fish was aggressive.

I tried to find the Trout by the bridge but two swans had stirred up the weeds and put all the fish down. I left just before 9:00pm. Four takes, four hooked fish. The fish had been hungry as I expected but they were fussy eaters.

The morning brought sunshine and a brisk north easterly wind, a combination more suited to Autumn than Summer. The air was moist but clean and everything looked bright and new. I’d probably missed the best part of the day.

By the time I had checked the lakes and collated all the catch returns it was 2:30pm. It was hot. Very hot. The river level had dropped to 0.02m on the gauge at Halfway Bridge, slightly lower than a week ago and the water was clear-ish. The wind was upstream which was a big advantage as it minimised drag. Earlier, while collecting the catch return at Rotherbridge, I sat and watched the river for thirty minutes. I had seen a mirror carp about 15lb swimming down the margin towards the trees. Several sea trout were splashing about above the bridge and a couple of trout were taking flies amongst the trees below the bridge. With so much activity it seemed sensible to start by the bridge.

I sat in the shade of the bushes expecting a long wait but the fish I had seen earlier were rising all over the pool. I couldn’t decide if it was several fish or one hungry fish dashing around. I tied on a parachute Pheasant Tail with a white foam hackle post and flicked it out gently into midstream. The breeze curled the leader upstream and held the fly in position. The trout inspected my offering and declined. I swapped the fly for a lightly dressed mayfly and that too was rejected. The next fly I tried was a small Walker’s sedge. The trout looked at it for several seconds but refused. I was running out of options. I rested the trout and browsed through my fly box. A black Neoprene nymph with a sparse badger hackle looked good. It would sink very slowly and hide the tippet.

I cast the fly upstream of the fish, another much bigger trout immediately grabbed the fly and when I lifted the rod, dashed off downstream at high speed. Most of my thirty yard fly line slid off the reel heading towards Coultershaw Bridge. I grabbed the landing net and walked downstream, winding in the line as I went. When I got to the weedbed where the fish was hiding I splashed the net on the weeds and the trout dived into midstream. It looked big. This procedure was repeated several times until the fish was exhausted and I guided it through a gap in the weeds into the net.

Unfortunately I couldn’t revive the fish, the warm water and frantic fight were too much. I weighed it and presented it to the farmer’s wife for their dinner. It was 2lb 4ozs but looked 3lb. It’s tail was huge, a slightly curled dorsal fin meant that it was not a wild fish.

I was hot and exhausted. Too tired for the pub.

Heavy rain yesterday had cleared the air and settled the dust. The temperature was in the mid sixties and the wind was a light north-easterly. A very strange direction for July.

I got to the river about 1:00pm, earlier than planned. I was relieved to see that the water had only risen a couple of inches and was not too coloured. It was humid and thundery but when the clouds parted the sunlight was intense. The air was thick with summer perfumes, butterflies and blue damsel flies. There were thousands of common red Soldier Beetles (Rhagonycha fulva) on the flowers, they seemed to prefer the cow parsley.

I signed in at the Fish Pass and went to have a look at the pool where I had seen a monster sea trout on Monday. The wind was blustery and it made casting tricky. When I eventually got the fly in the water a sea trout shot out from under the Willow, grabbed the fly and zig-zagged around the pool before dropping the fly and disappearing downstream. It all happened so fast, I was unable to react.

The Badgers looked inviting but I resisted the temptation. I moved up to the Long Straight and worked a nymph down and across but the water was too coloured for the trout to see the fly unless it passed very close to them. I persevered, moving upstream but the water was dead. I decided to cut my losses and change to another beat. Somewhere a bit shallower so the fish had a chance to see the fly.

I drove to Keeper’s Bridge and decided to walk downstream, fishing the usual pools until I got to the New Riffle. There were a few fish splashing around in the riffle and in the pool immediately below it but they were not feeding. After thirty minutes of searching the riffle with a Mayfly nymph a fish rose and took a fly in the tail of the pool. I spent about an hour chasing rising fish around the pools but I didn’t get a take. The majority of the splashes were sea trout larking about. Very frustrating.

I walked back towards Keeper’s Bridge, the splashes became more frequent and more violent as the sun went down. I worked hard all the way back to the bridge but I had no response. It had been an interesting afternoon. When the water level drops back to normal it should be possible to find a few sea trout.

Thankfully the heat wave had ended. It was only 70 degrees with high wispy clouds and a cool westerly breeze. I checked the lakes and collected the catch returns. It had been another tough week on the lakes due to the high water temperature. I also visited the river, looking for fish and taking photographs. There was no point fishing until late afternoon, the fish would be hiding from the sun. The intense sunlight reminded me of the south of France. It made the summer colours surreal. I wandered around taking photographs until about 3:00pm when the wind grew stronger and thunder clouds loomed over the Downs.

As I drove towards Little Bognor I stopped at my favourite gateway to look south at the Downs. The view is spectacular in all weathers.

The Environment Agency had finished cutting down the trees around the fish ladder. It has opened up the pool and increased the flow of water. Sea trout run up the centre of each step where the flow is greater.

The wheat beside the top beat was swaying in the wind, the silky waves of grain looked ready for harvest.

I haven’t seen many bees this year. This honey bee was visiting the flowers around Little Springs.

After lunch at Great Springs I drove to the river, stopping frequently on the way to look at the views.  At the top of the rise most of the Rother valley can be seen.

I concentrated on the stretch between the farm track and the Sandy Pool. The Trout I had seen on my last visit were still there. I stood behind the Himalayan Balsam and the nettles which were tall enough to hide me. I tried a nymph but although a fish continually splashed around the pool, I couldn’t get a take. I changed to a Sedge and after a few casts the fish took the fly but managed to wriggle off the hook.

I walked up to the Wide Pool above the old riffle but the sun was on the water and no fish were showing. I walked back and tried all the usual pools. I caught a small wild fish on a nymph at the tail of the Sandy Pool. It was under the weeds along the far bank.

There was a Trout splashing in the pool by the drainage ditch, it took a GRHE nymph and weighed about 1lb 8ozs. I returned the fish and decided to stop fishing. I was dehydrated, hot and tired. It had been a long day and I had walked too far in the hot sun.