Sussex Trout Fishing … and Devon

Over Easter I stayed away from the river and consequently missed a couple of opportunities to catch a decent fish. So I started early in the hope that I would have the river to myself for a few hours.  There was a strong southerly wind and heavy rain was forecast. Another Barbour day. Despite the overnight rain the river level was 0.030m, very low. I discussed the catch returns with Andrew, ten wild fish had been caught from the river including three small sea trout. Mayfly had been seen at Little Springs.

Ladymead was not an option, the weekend campers shatter the peace and quiet. I decided to start at Keeper’s Bridge. The bluebells and wild garlic looked spectacular but it is an odd combination of scents. I set my rod up and worked the pool by the big Alder tree. Then I started again from scratch. I had missed a rod ring. Again.

There were no fish showing so I walked slowly downstream towards the new riffle looking for fish. I was nearly at the riffle when I heard a fish rise behind me. I turned and watched the water,  the fish rose again. I sat on the bank above the rise and waited. After five minutes there was a violent splash, a good fish circled around and took a fly on the second attempt. I renewed my tippet and tied on an unweighted Black Nymph. After a couple of tentative casts across the river to get the length, I flicked the fly down and across to where the trout had risen. It took the fly just under the surface and I lifted the rod. Too soon. I pulled the fly out of it’s mouth. Bother. I would have to give the fish time to compose itself.

I left the pool and walked down to the new riffle. I searched the riffle without reward. I think the fish there have become educated.  On the way back upstream I saw a fish rise just below a fallen tree bough. I swapped the fly for a GRHE nymph and started well above the rise, intending to work downstream. The leader shot forward and I lifted into the fish. It felt like a wild brownie but when I first caught sight of the fish, I knew that it was a sea trout. I bullied it into the landing net and let it rest while I searched my pockets for the camera and forceps. The hook dropped out easily and I took a few photos. The fish dashed away from the net, eager to find shelter. It was about eight ounces, not a big fish but my first sea trout from the river. Hurrah.

The sea trout lifted my spirits. I walked back upstream with a purpose, the big brownie was next. I knelt upstream of the fish’s position and waited. It rose for a fly and disappeared. I drifted a Black Nymph over the fish. It came up, carefully inspected the nymph and rejected it. I tied a size 14 dry Olive on and rubbed the tippet with mud. I flicked the dry fly out, the fish rose and took it confidently. The trout fought long and hard,  nearly pointing me on a couple of occasions. It took a long time to recover. As it swam away it looked four pounds but was actually only two. A very long, lithe fish.

On the way back to Keeper’s Bridge I saw another rise and covered it. The fish was very small and wriggled off the hook. I was thirsty and tired so I drove to Great Springs and had a cup of tea.

The trout and wagtails were taking mayfly from the shallows at the top of Little Springs. Brian helped me photograph a newly emerged mayfly. Very appropriate for 1 May. If we get a few sunny days the main hatch will start. It had been a long, tiring day but one that would  stay in my memory for quite a while.

There was a hard frost last night, the top of the car was frozen and the lawn was white. It hadn’t altered the temperature of the water. It takes several days of very cold weather to make even a small change in water temperature. My diary for 2016 showed that on this day last year, the river was six inches higher and coloured. The lack of winter rain had left the sandy soil parched and the river low.

The hedgerows by the Fish Pass and Coultershaw Bridge had been heavily trimmed during the winter. The overgrown banks around the feeder streams had been cleared and access to the river had been made a lot easier.  I waded across the river and walked downstream. The water was crystal clear and the streamer weed had grown a lot. The water was too shallow to hold a good fish so I went back to the weir pool. After a few casts with a Black Nymph I had a ‘rattle’ from a wild trout but it was too quick for me. A little later I had a serious ‘nip’ on the fly but again I failed to hook the fish. I left the pool and fished the Coultershaw Bridge arm of the river. I hadn’t fished this part of the river before and expected great things. Unfortunately it was shallower than I had hoped and after a fishless hour I walked back downstream and crossed back  onto the north bank.

I wandered slowly upstream looking for signs of fish. I stopped at Wasp Bend. That was the pool where I had caught a small trout on my first ever visit to the Rother. The entire stretch looked lifeless but I decided to concentrate and cover every pool on the way back to the Fish Pass. Nothing happened until I got to the top of the long straight. I drew the fly alongside a bed of streamer weed and there was a big thump on the rod as a good fish seized the nymph. It managed to wrap itself around the weed and came free. Disappointing but it spurred me on.

I moved along the bank twenty yards and worked the fly down and across, taking several steps at the end of each cast. Halfway down the straight I had a gentle take and the trout stayed on the hook. Success. It started to rain and I could see The Badgers across the field. It was calling me. The pub was nice and warm.

Yesterday the river received it’s first stocking of brown trout. The lower beats had been stocked with chalk-stream reared fish but the top beats would be left unstocked until later in the season. The big trout in the pool at Ladymead had evaded capture on my last two visits. I planned to fish the pool again at dusk. The low light level should make it harder for the fish to see me crawling along the bank. I fitted a new leader, cleaned my fly line and sorted out my waistcoat pockets. Too many toffee wrappers were clogging things up. I even cleared out the back of the Land Rover. Preparation is everything.

It was extremely cold for late April, I wore a jumper and a Barbour jacket. The sun was bright but the strong north wind took away it’s warmth. I approached the pool at Ladymead carefully, following the tree line. I approached quietly enough to get within twenty feet of a vixen laying on the short grass and enjoying the sunshine. She ran off then paused, looking back over her shoulder indignantly. I had interrupted her siesta.

I kept well back from the edge of the pool and relaxed in the sun, just like the fox. I watched the water for about an hour and saw dark shadows, the wobbly chub and a few small trout. The dark shadow was cruising along the far edge of the sandbank, under the branches of the oak tree and then back down the main current near the stone work.

I cast a Black Nymph upstream, near the overhanging oak in the slack water down the centre of the pool. The take was violent and as I lifted the rod I was prepared for the big fish. It was a trout but not the one I had targeted. It fought strongly, thrashing around the pool and somersaulting on the surface. I eventually got the trout in the landing net and allowed it to rest while I found the artery forceps and prepared for a photo. I had a good look at the fish, it was about 1lb 8oz and in perfect condition. The biggest wild trout I had caught from the Rother.

I lowered the edge of the landing net, the trout wriggled out and sped away into deep water. It’s nice to see them swim away unharmed. The pool was trashed and although I had a few more casts, I knew I was wasting my time. I walked back to the Land Rover and drove to Rotherbridge. I fished above the bridge and in the new riffle but the wind was getting colder and I decided to head for home. It had been a great evening.

I went to look at the river early in the morning. The weir and fish pass looked inviting, the access to the river below the fish pass had been improved. I was tempted to start at the weir pool but I kept thinking about the large trout I had seen at Ladymead last Friday. I spent an hour with Andrew, discussing club matters and looking at his Tiger photos. The lower beats of the river were being stocked at lunchtime and I therefore decided to go to Ladymead.

At Ladymead the campers had gone and tranquility had returned. As I approached the pool a fish rose close to the bank. It was feeding, not just splashing about. While I threaded the line through the rod rings it took another fly. I was careful not to scare the fish. I slid across the grass and waited for the fish to show itself again. The dark shadow moved around the pool but the fish seemed to be aware of my presence and eventually disappeared. Having survived last season and the winter, it’s become a very clever trout. I need a cunning plan.

I walked downstream to the shallow pool, it’s guaranteed to produce a fish. I worked a Black Nymph down and across, through the centre of the pool where the fish usually take. I had a take but it was either a Dace or a tiny Trout. It wriggled free while I was laughing to myself. The wind was cold and I decided to go to Great Springs for a cup of tea.

Little Springs was being stocked and Great Springs looked barren. After a cuppa and a chat, I went down to Luffs to catch a Blue Trout. I had seen them stocked a couple of weeks earlier, most of them were nearly 4lbs. A couple of the ‘white ghosts’ were cruising around the deep end of the lake. They were easy to see in the dark brown water. I tried to tempt them with a variety of dry flies but they ignored them all. I tried a nymph without success. I moved around to the seat by the willow tree. A lot of fish were rising and I thought it would be easy to connect. After half an hour without a take I was losing interest and getting cold. I decided to leave and as I reeled in my line a fish grabbed my fly close to the bank. It fought hard, well above it’s weight. While I was unhooking my fish, the trout went mad, they were rising all around me. I hooked and lost two fish and then it all went quiet. I had scared the shoal and they had moved away into the centre of the lake. It was time to leave. I had trout for supper, it was yummy.

Thick cloud and a south-westerly wind were ideal conditions for catching a trout from the river. Or a sea trout. On my last visit, although I used a weighted Black Nymph, it hadn’t reached the bottom of the deepest pools. I decided to fish on the top beat as it is lightly fished and it  contains a lot of wild fish. I would need something heavy to get to the bottom of the pool at Ladymead,  about the equivalent of a number 6 shot.

When I got to Taylor’s Bridge and signed in, I saw from the sheet that nothing had been caught over the last few days. That was good news, the fish had not been traumatised. I walked up to Ladymead and watched the pool while I set up my rod. As there was nothing rising I tied on a heavy Black Nymph and worked it down the deeper runs. After about twenty minutes I saw a big brownie cruise up the centre of the pool and take several flies. It looked about 3-4lb. It head-and-tailed up the pool snapping it’s jaws at tiny flies. It was feeding confidently, it looked like it was taking buzzers although I couldn’t see anything hatching. I tried a GRHE just under the surface and although I presented the fly gently, just ahead of the fish, it ignored the nymph. It wanted a dry fly. I returned to the car for my dry fly box and rested the pool. When I got back the big fish was still cruising around.  A chub of about 2lb was also swimming aimlessly around. As it came close to me, it was wobbling a bit and I could see cormorant scars on it’s flanks.

I decided to wait quietly until the big trout came within easy casting range. I stood in the shallow water watching the trout patrol around the pool. It was a very dark brown colour with a big head. Probably an over-wintered fish. A couple of small trout were rising under the far bank at the tail of the pool and although they took my dry buzzer,  I missed both takes. I waited patiently for the big brownie but a group of young lads turned up on the far bank and jumped in the pool for a swim. Rats.

I walked downstream to the shallow pool and drifted a GRHE nymph down and across. At the usual place a big bow wave built up behind my nymph. I paused the drift and then drew the fly upstream. The fish took the fly but wriggled off after a couple of seconds. There must be a rock or depression in the sand at that position. There is always a fish in that lie. I was tired. I walked back to the car and had a relaxing drive home. I will return to Ladymead mid week when the campers have gone back to school.