Sussex Trout Fishing … and Devon

I decided to fish in the afternoon,  I thought that the trout might be feeding later in the day. On Tuesday afternoon I had seen a few terrestrial flies along the river and a few buzzers had hatched.

Nobody had visited the fish ladder and nothing had been caught at Rotherbridge. A couple of wild fish had been caught from the middle beats. I parked at the end of the old railway line and walked around the edge of the field to sign in.

Ladymead looked good but despite working hard mending the line and casting into the wind,  I didn’t get any takes. I went back to the long straight below the bridge and tried a nymph but again, nothing.

The shallow run above the Monster Pool always produces a fish. Nothing. I had high hopes for the Monster Pool,  the water swirled around the entire width of the river,  surely there would be a trout waiting for my fly. Nothing. I was losing heart but I had to give the Long Pool a few minutes. I trundled the fly around the head of the pool expecting a take but there was no response.

I walked back upstream and as I came to the Monster Pool, a big fish rose confidently on the bend at the top of the pool. I fished that area thoroughly but the trout was not interested.  I had the impression that the fish were there but were spooked by my casting or the flies. Another member had fished the beat just before I arrived, the trout may have been put down. The weather is settled and the water should be in excellent condition at the weekend.

 

The BBC weather forecast predicted a southerly wind veering around to the north by noon. I chose to ignore it in favour of ‘looking out of the window’. The topmost leaf on the willow tree was not moving and a soft rain fell vertically. Good fishing weather.

I had cleaned my fly line and glued a new leader into the tip of the line. Where should I fish? Yesterday, Rotherbridge looked uninspiring but the top beats looked great and I had seen a good trout rise. There were no cars at Keeper’s Bridge and I decided to start on that beat. The water was a little coloured by the run-off from the overnight rain. I got tangled in a tree before the first cast. Oops.

When I eventually got the black nymph in the river I worked it down and across, concentrating on the leader. There was no response above Keeper’s Bridge. I moved down to the new riffle. The water was fast moving in the centre of the river leaving a slightly slower channel along the near and far bank. At the end of the first cast, a small trout splashed but did not take the fly. I searched down and across and took a step after every couple of casts. Just like salmon fishing. About half way down the riffle, just after I had put a mend in the line, there was a savage take and a large angry trout burst onto the surface of the water. It shook itself, jumped and thrashed about. Then it used the strong current and moved downstream to the end of the pool. I followed. Without the landing net. I subdued the fish but it was hard to bring it back upstream against the flow. I beached the trout and lifted it out by hand. Then I put it in the landing net to recover.

The fish was 3lb and bore the scars of several encounters with cormorants. I felt a bit sorry for the trout. It had survived the winter, predators and was obviously hungry. After it had recovered, I dropped the edge of the net and let it swim back into the pool. It looked about 4lb in the water. I will recognize that fish if we meet again. I walked downstream to Rotherbridge and missed a take just below the big alder tree. It felt like a small wild trout. Half an hour later I returned to the riffle. I had four more takes but couldn’t connect.

I went back to the Land Rover and drove to The Badgers for a pint. It had been a successful day. A good start to the river season.

The BBC weather forecast said there would be a southerly breeze at 7:00am,  it was from the west. After some gardening chores I drove down to the lakes  with the intention of fishing dry flies all afternoon. The sun was hot, the spring flowers were all in full bloom and the buzzards were mewing to each other. It all looked perfect. I had the mandatory mug of Darjeeling and chocolate biscuits while looking at the lakes. Great Springs looked lovely but barren. Nothing moved. Little Springs was alive with rising trout and another member had three fish while I sat in the sun watching. The wind swung round to the south and was pleasantly warm.

I browsed through my dry fly box, it’s a bit of a tangle. I must get something better. I thought I would start with a large olive fly that is easy to see. That pattern had been very successful on the river, surely the trout in the lake would like it. If that didn’t work, I would try a dry Pheasant Tail.

The olive didn’t work. Neither did the Pheasant Tail. The trout came to the flies confidently but turned away. They were taking something smaller, probably buzzers. I looked through the box and found some size 16 ginger buzzers that I tied last season. The pattern incorporated a small wedge of white foam to keep the fly suspended in the surface film. I had difficulty tying the knot, bright sun and a size 16 hook are not a good combination, particularly when the eye of the hook is clogged with varnish.

I waited for a fish to come close to the bank and flicked the fly at it. There was a big swirl but no take. That went on for a while but eventually the leader snaked away and I connected. It was a trout under 2lb but it took most of my fly line and fought for ages. I thought that it was foul hooked but the fly had caught in the scissors.

I returned to the lodge and celebrated with an ‘All Day Breakfast’ sandwich and a cup of tea. Plus several chocolate biscuits. With a few Quality Street.

The afternoon was nearly over. I went for a walk to Luffs and had a chat with a couple of members. The fish were taking buzzers down the centre of the lake, well beyond casting range. We are all looking forward to the opening of the river next Tuesday. It should be good if the rain holds off.

It was a glorious spring morning, I sat in the garden with a cup of tea and decided to go to the lakes later in the day. There would probably be an evening rise when the wind dropped. However, in the afternoon when I arrived at Great Springs, the clouds were darkening and the wind had a chill to it. Just to remind me it was still March. I had the usual cup of tea and a chat while watching the lakes. Great Springs was lifeless but Little Springs looked like a stock pond, trout were rising down the centre of the lake from the dam to the inlet spring. They were exploring a line of debris that had blown off the trees in the strong southerly wind. A new member arrived and with some advice about flies, he went to Little Springs and caught two trout.

Chironomid midges form 80% of a trout’s diet. They hatch all year round, even on a cold winter day. I thought I would fish Great Springs with a buzzer and try to catch a surface feeding trout. Or roach. I cast a Neoprene buzzer to rising roach and had several takes but I was too slow. The new member returned to the lodge, happy with his first day at the lakes. The trout were still rising on Little Springs as he left. I sat on the bench next to the inlet stream and flicked a buzzer out a few yards. Casting into the wind was a bit tricky and the fish moved away from my splashing around.

I went round to the side of the lake and changed my fly to a Neoprene Spider. That fly floats for hours. The first cast produced a savage, splashy take within seconds of the fly landing. I was surprised by the speed of the take and missed the fish. The next cast also enticed a trout which I hooked but it shook itself free after a few seconds. The hook holds are not very secure with the spider, the bulk of the Neoprene tends to mask the point of the hook. I must get the fly-tying vice out and design something more efficient.

The wind got stronger and colder. The fish had disappeared as a result of my efforts. My arm was aching so I called it a day.

The morning was grey and chilly, not British Summer Time.  I went to Rotherbridge to meet Andrew and we discussed the previous week’s catch returns. I was then treated to a guided tour of the river below Coultershaw Bridge. It looked great but it was obviously hard fished. Later in the morning I parked my Land Rover at Keeper’s Bridge and walked slowly upstream looking for trout and noting the subtle changes to the river. The streamer weed was starting to grow and the water had a nice greenish tint. The catkins were emerging on the willow and alder trees. The sun was high in a blue sky and it was hot, about 60 degrees. I walked downstream to the new riffle. I saw a trout rise just on the bend below Keeper’s Bridge and another in the middle of the riffle. It’s only a week until the opening day on the river.

I had lunch at the lodge next to Great Springs and a long chat with another member.  I decided to go back to Luffs, it looked lovely in the spring sunshine.  I stood on the grass, looking at the lake, watching for rising fish.  I was directly under the National Grid cables. I noticed my left hand, holding my carbon fibre rod, was tingling. It felt like mild ‘pins-and-needles’. I was alarmed but reassured by my rubber Wellingtons. I touched the rod tip on the grass to earth it and the tingling stopped. When I raised the rod off the ground the tingling started. Static was building up in my rod. I decided to fish from the other side of the lake.

I sat on the bench near the willow tree and started fishing with a GRHE nymph. I had a couple of knocks on the fly but didn’t connect. I changed to an amber nymph but the fish had moved away. They are quite spooky. I met a new member and chatted while I fished. I moved around to the sluice and fished the amber nymph deep, casting into the wind. I had a solid take and the trout charged off up the lake, jumping as it went. It was a small fish, pulling well above it’s weight. The trout was foul hooked in the side and eventually came adrift. I walked back to Great Springs and after another cup of tea,  fished a Neoprene Buzzer from the point.  I hooked a good trout which took me through several weed beds before escaping. Probably another foul hooked fish. Soon after losing the fish I hooked another and bullied it away from the weeds into the net. It had been a long day so I signed out and headed for home.