Sussex Trout Fishing … and Devon

I spent the afternoon taking temperature and pH readings at the lakes, some very interesting results. It was scorching hot with bright sunshine. I arrived at Keeper’s Bridge about 4:30pm and had already decided to fish upstream to Perryfields. I hadn’t fished that stretch for a long time and it would make a nice change. I walked past the Sandy Pool and found a large Alder tree to sit under. I could see a short stretch of river while I set up my rod. After selecting and tying on a Mayfly I discovered that I had missed a rod ring. Again. Despite great care. My eyesight must be failing.

I was enjoying the shade and the breeze when a fish rose just upstream under a tree branch. I watched it rise several times and then tried to cover it. I lost the fly in the Alder tree. The fish continued to rise until I managed to get a Mayfly over it. Then the trout disappeared.  My casting was not at it’s best. The heat and midges were getting to me so I strolled upstream along the headlands of a large open water meadow. The breeze was stronger there. I heard a splash in the big wide pool about a hundred yards above the old riffle. I sat and watched for ten minutes and only saw a Moorhen. I was just about to continue upstream when the fish rose again. In midstream just below a sunken tree branch. I had lost a few flies on that branch last season. I cast a Neoprene Mayfly over the trout a few times but there was no response. I went upstream and chased a trout along a stretch of river. It kept moving up, it was probably a sea trout. When I reached Perryfields Barn a diesel engine was thumping away feeding the water sprinklers.  It was too noisy so I went back to the trout by the sunken tree. As I approached the pool it rose several times. I checked the knots, degreased the tippet and put the fly in the perfect place second cast. The trout swirled and I lifted into it. I bent the rod and hauled the fish out of the branches. It took the fish by surprise. By the time it was on an even keel it was in open water. It ran deep and pulled hard but it kept away from the snags. In the net it looked very long, it was about 2lbs 4ozs. It had a curly dorsal fin, not a wild fish.

After returning the trout I went back for the fish under the Alder tree. It had gone. I returned to the Sandy Pool and watched the tail end. A fish rose under the  old willow stumps but not for my Mayfly. Back at Keeper’s Bridge there were two fish rising, one under my favourite Alder branch and another under the near bank about twenty yards downstream. I tried the lower fish with a Mayfly gently lowered onto the water. It came up, looked at the fly, circled around and went back down again. It was not the presentation, the leader was not touching the water. It didn’t appreciate my fly tying skills. I tried it again with a different fly but the fish remained unimpressed. I moved up the pool to cover the fish sipping down flies under the branch. The cast was perfect, the fly landed gently, the fish head-and-tailed. It was hooked. It was about 1lb 8ozs and marked like a leopard. A cool pint at The Badgers was desperately needed. It was a perfect end to the evening.

I arrived at the river about 5:30pm and planned to stay until dark. There were a few Mayfly hatching but not enough to coax the trout to the surface.  The sea trout smolts were splashing on the surface.

I started at Keeper’s Bridge and caught a small sea trout within thirty minutes. As the sun dipped lower the fish started to rise. Not for Mayfly but for midges, there were millions buzzing about near the surface. I saw a small fish leap out of the water in an attempt to grab an airborne fly. A fish was rising just above the bend but a careless cast put it down. I rested the fish and it started to rise again a bit further downstream. It refused several flies and I walked away in search of an easier target. I couldn’t find another trout so I returned to the spooky fish and cast a spent Mayfly imitation. The trout rose confidently and took the fly. It was a small wild fish which I quickly returned.

I wanted to explore the stretch of river between Keeper’s Bridge and the old riffle, it had been kind to me last season. I walked slowly upstream looking for any signs of trout. I reached the riffle without seeing anything except ducks and swans. The sun was low and the air temperature was dropping. Dew was forming on the short grass beside the river. I sat beside the Sandy Pool waiting for a rise. A trout took a midge at the end of the pool near the far bank. I waited for it to show again and cast down and across. The cast was clumsy and I put the fish down. Another trout rose downstream from the pool, at the top of the long straight beside a bush. I crept down and flicked a Mayfly into the rings of a rise. I did that several times. The trout took the fly just as I lifted it slowly off the water at the end of a cast. I didn’t scare the fish which kept rising under my rod tip. A few minutes later I lowered the fly onto the surface and a good fish rose and gulped it down. I’m not sure it was the same fish. With such a short line the fight was frantic, Ian appeared and netted the fish for me. It was nearly 2lb and nicely marked. I left about 9:15pm, a good fish was rising at the top of the Sandy Pool close to the bank. I marked it down for next time. The evening was very productive.

The weather over the Bank Holiday weekend had been odd, extreme heat and bright sunshine then thunderstorms. I made the usual Monday morning visit to discuss the catch returns for the lakes and river. The river level at Halfway Bridge had risen from 0.026m to 0.064m as a result of 22mm off overnight rain. At 9:30am I could see the sandy bottom at Rotherbridge but an hour later it was obscured, the river was still rising. The shallows at Ladymead were unfishable, the only place I thought might be worth fishing was the new riffle.

I started at the top of the riffle and worked my way down covering the whole pool with a pale coloured leaded nymph. It would be visible in the muddy water. By continually mending the line I was able to keep the fly trundling down the deeper runs. There was no response. I returned to the top of the pool and changed to a black fly. I had a toffee before working the pool again. Towards the end of the riffle, in midstream, there was a satisfying thump on the rod which remained bent in an alarming hoop as the fish kept deep in the fast water. I saw a flash of silver and immediately thought “sea trout”.  However, there was no jumping or thrashing about and I revised my thoughts. It was a chub. I beached the fish and unhooked it in the water. It had a few scales missing, probably from spawning. There was little point in moving to another pool. I rested the main flow and fished just above the bend. After twenty minutes the line drew taught and I hooked a trout. It was an opportunity to use my landing net with the ‘new’ extending, three metre handle. It worked beautifully and made returning the fish safer. No more teetering on the edge of a high bank.

There were lots of Mayfly hatching so I changed to a dry fly and covered several rising fish. I didn’t grease the fly or tippet and the fly hung just below the surface. I only had one take but I was distracted by a chaffinch fluttering around, chasing it’s lunch. I looked back at the river to see the leader stop moving and the swirl widening.

I had been lucky with the weather. The rain had been evaporating from my shirt at about the same rate as it fell. Behind me a large dark cloud was growing along the ridge of the South Downs, it was time to leave. I drove to Great Springs and had a cup of tea. I had mistakenly left the landing net on the roof of the Land Rover when I left Rotherbridge but it survived the journey.  The water looked dark and lifeless. A few fish were jumping, not feeding. I fished a dry fly for a while but had no takes. The water temperature was 21 degrees, rainbow trout don’t like warm water. After a final cuppa I drove away through a warm mist rising from the fields. Although it was only 5:00pm I had to use the headlights, very odd weather.

I thought that the Mayfly would be hatching in swarms. The temperature and bright sunshine would surely encourage them to leave the water. I was wrong. It was much too hot and sunny. The hottest day of the year so far, 28 degrees. There were a few Mayfly hatching but not enough to coax the trout from under the streamer weed and tree roots.

I decided to concentrate on the pools around Keeper’s Bridge because on Tuesday evening I had seen lots of trout greedily taking Mayfly. Tuesday was overcast. I sat on the mown grass below the bridge where I could see about two hundred yards of the river. I thought that I was going to wait a long time before a fish revealed itself. Not so, there was a rise just a short cast upstream. I had tied some delicate parachute Mayfly using white foam for the body and hackle post. They looked convincing. I flicked one at the trout which was rising alongside an overhanging bush. It stopped rising.

I moved downstream and found a good fish rising in a completely inaccessible pool. I saw a group of fish in the pool immediately above the new riffle. Mark had a 3lb 8oz sea trout below the riffle on Tuesday evening and had seen several more. I flicked a black nymph towards the biggest fish. The cast was short. I flicked it out again and shot some line. The leader curled over and the fly landed close to the big one.  It took the fly and snapped the line with ease. I walked back to Keeper’s Bridge and visited the Land Rover for a drink and consolation banana.

I settled down to wait by the Alder trees opposite the footpath through the woods. A fish rose and I covered it with a Mayfly. It responded but I was too quick with the strike. I rested the fish but it would not rise again.  I walked upstream to the Sandy Pool but there were no fish. I was hot, dehydrated and tired. Too tired for the pub.

During the morning I toured the lakes and the river collecting the catch returns and chatting to other members. Mayfly were hatching everywhere. By 2:00pm the sun had burnt off the clouds leaving only wispy bits, high in a deep blue sky. Very Mediterranean. It was extremely hot and the gentle breeze was downstream,  not very helpful. The water level had dropped after the inch of rain last Wednesday but the water was still slightly coloured. I drove to Keeper’s Bridge and tackled up under the silver birch. It was too hot for fishing. I walked very slowly downstream looking for trout. I hoped that, like the trout,  I could find shelter under the Alder trees.

There were no fish rising so I explored under the bushes and alongside the streamer weed with a black nymph. After three or four bushes a trout grabbed the fly and sulked on the bottom. I thought it had snagged me but a long steady lift with the rod bought the fish up in the water and the usual tearing around and splashing commenced.  It was about 2lb and had a small scar from a cormorant. Filled with confidence I made my way down to the new riffle, stopping to explore under every tree along the far bank. Nothing. The riffle looked good but I couldn’t get a take. I fished my way back to Keeper’s Bridge and found a rising fish under the alder trees just below the bridge. I tied on a Mayfly with a white Neoprene body and presented it carefully just upstream of the trout. It took first cast but got off. Rats. I judged a cast badly and lost the entire leader in a tree. I hadn’t bothered to replace a badly worn joint before I left home. The bodged needle knot did nothing to improve presentation.

I sat and watched the river for a while. Then I sheltered from the sun on the edge of the wood, keeping an eye on the water.  Jerome arrived and went downstream. I saw two fish rise opposite me about twenty yards apart. Definitely not the same fish. I watched the upstream fish. It rose under a tree branch and delicately sipped down a newly hatched Mayfly. Several times. I crawled towards the fish Indian style, sliding the last few yards on my side. The first cast was short, the second cast was perfect. The trout rose and accepted my imitation. I hustled the fish into the landing net trying not to disturb the downstream trout.

After I had released the trout I stood back from the waters edge in the tree line and waited for trout Number 2. It didn’t show. Jerome and I walked upstream looking for another target but found nothing. We returned to trout Number 2 and on the third cast I induced a take by twitching the Mayfly. Jerome netted the fish and released it. We will return tomorrow and swap roles. It had been another very long, hot and exhausting day. It had been fun.