Sussex Trout Fishing … and Devon

The weather forecast was bad for the latter part of the week so I decided on an evening session before the rain arrived.  Andrew had seen a big Sea Trout and I thought a late session on some of the deeper pools would be a good idea.

I had modified my little Hardy Marquis reel to make the drag mechanism quieter.  A few minutes with a Dremmel polishing disc had reduced the edge of the pawl so that it only just made contact. No more embarrassing tangles  and just a faint purr as I strip line from the reel.

The bright, sunny morning had given way to a warm overcast afternoon with a brisk south-westerly wind. When I got to Keeper’s Bridge two cars were parked under the trees so I continued to the Top Beat.  I signed in and stood on the bridge for a while looking for fish. Strangely the water had a greenish tinge and had risen quite a bit. Either there had been a lot of overnight rain higher up the river or the new riffle at Rotherbridge had backed the water up further than I’d imagined.

I saw a fish rise just under the bank and tried it with a Black Neoprene Spider.  There was no response,  I think the fish had taken refuge under a nearby bush. I walked all the way down to the gate at the bottom of the beat, fishing most pools. It was a long walk in waders. Crouching, crawling and creeping to avoid scaring the fish. I had a hard take at the Shallow Pool but didn’t connect. On the way back up the beat I fished the pools I had leap-frogged.  I walked on past the bridge, up to Ladymead.  I waded out gingerly onto the sand bank in the middle of the pool avoiding the springs. The water was about a foot deeper than normal, previously I had fished there in wellies.  I worked the fly across the current on the far side and then up the near bank under the trees.  I had a double tap but again I failed to connect with the fish.  It felt like a small wild Trout.

I was tired from walking in waders and thirsty so I adjourned to the Badgers just as the light was going. It had been an interesting evening, I was convinced I would get a fish but I’d messed up the only two opportunities.

 

I went to the Club Autumn Bar-B-Q for a chat with the other members and to wander around the lakes.  It’s a social occasion but I took my tackle. I hoped to find a quiet corner of a lake for a few casts after lunch.

There were lots of members fishing when I arrived so I had a cup of tea and a chat to the Keepers. Andrew asked me to write an article about the river for the Club Newsletter. I will have to summarise my season and include some of my better photographs. Great Springs looked very nice, full of fry and not too much weed. The lower lake was coloured but there were a few Trout rising.

The Chef soon got the fire alight and the aroma of beef burgers and sausages drew me towards the clubhouse. Not surprisingly the other members arrived from around the lakes and we tucked into the food and wine.

The lakes were deserted and looked lovely in the Autumn sunshine.

People drifted away from the food and wine back to the serious business of fly fishing. I went to the point on Great Springs and sat on the bench. A few Trout were splashing about. I tied on a size 16 Black Gnat and flicked it at the shoals of fry that were dimpling the surface. None of the Roach were interested. I changed to a GRHE nymph and searched the edges of the weed beds for a cruising Trout but I didn’t have a take. The wind was getting stronger, it was swirling around from all points of the compass. It was almost impossible to get the line in the water and I decided to move to the lower lake which was more sheltered.

After thirty minutes the sky darkened and it looked like rain would spoil the afternoon. I walked back to the hut, had another sausage and said goodbye to the other members.

It had been a very pleasant afternoon.

A good south-westerly breeze, overcast and temperatures in the low sixties would give me no excuses.  No rain was forecast but remembering the last trip,  I took a Barbour with me. One with a hood.

The work on the new riffle would have coloured the water on the Rotherbridge Beat and the weir pool so I went straight to Keeper’s Bridge. After signing the book, I filled my pockets with tackle and walked down the slope to the river. The river looked high but not coloured. Strange.  Fish were rising and I thought I would be successful. I tied a Black Spider on and crept towards a rising fish. I flicked the fly out but just as it landed  the fish rose again upstream. I lifted off and cast into the rings of the rise, the fish took immediately and fought hard. As I was netting it I heard a Land Rover stop in the parking area.  Then a second Land Rover arrived,  they have a distinctive sound. I nursed the fish in the landing net and eventually it swam off into the streamer weed. Andrew the Keeper arrived  and after a brief chat, he drove downstream to supervise the digger driver. Then Mike arrived and while we were chatting,  several fish rose along the stretch by the bridge. Mike went upstream and I made my way downstream towards the construction site.  I fished a few pools but the sun had popped out from behind the clouds and the fish had gone down.

When I got to the pool where the work was in progress I was amazed by the size of the digger and the speed of the current.  Seven hundred tons of gravel had been landscaped into the river bed.

Seven hundred tons!

The water was about two inches deep where it flowed over the crest of the new gravel ridge.  The pool above the riffle shelved upstream steeply to a depth of about six feet.  A new spawning bed and a deep holding pool had been created,  a great improvement. The water flowing over the gravel was very clear. Below the riffle it was the colour of milky tea, the suspended mud and salt will probably persist for a few days.

Andrew explained that the banks had been lowered around the sides of the riffle to allow the winter floods to lose strength at that point and not wash the gravel away. The water level upstream of the gravel bar had risen by nearly a foot.

I fished a few pools with a nymph on the way back to the bridge but there were no takes. As I walked around the corner below Keeper’s Bridge I saw a fish rise under the Alder trees.  I  positioned myself below the rise and cast up and across.  No response.  Just as I was about to recast another fish rose opposite me. I changed the direction of the cast and the fly landed perfectly.  The fish took the nymph after a few seconds. It was a small wild fish and I returned it immediately. Trout were starting to rise along the entire stretch.

There was a good fish rising in the Cow Drink pool below the bridge. I crouched behind a bit of cover and cast, the fish took and fought for ages. Just as I was trying to net the Trout it tore off across the pool and I nearly lost it. The Trout had strange markings, it was very pale and had hardly any coloured spots on it’s flanks. I thought it might be a Sea Trout but the dorsal fin was slightly deformed.

I joined Mike and we wandered slowly back but we were interrupted by a fish rising under an Alder tree. We watched the rise for a few minutes and Mike put a small Hopper over it. Absolutely no interest. The Trout must have seen the fly but was not fooled.

I was 20p short of a pint but celebrated with a glass of Shiraz at home.

It was a perfect Autumn day, overcast and cool with a gentle breeze from the north west.  The leaves were turning brown at the edges and a few were dropping onto the roads. I had to go fishing, to remain at home was unthinkable.

The river level had dropped after the torrential rain at the weekend and I hoped the river would be deserted. There were two fish I had marked down last week and I had an appointment with each of them.

As I arrived at the river it started to rain. I told myself it was a only a shower and took a short cut across the stubble to the shelter of the trees. I tackled up near the bridge. The Beat had not been fished since my last visit and the fish had not been disturbed.

I  had seen one fish in the shadow of a big Alder tree just above Taylor’s Bridge. It had risen for the midges that swarm under the trees.  It had been impossible to present the fly from upstream as the line  of Alder trees blocked the cast. Approaching the fish from downstream was difficult, my first cast had ‘lined’ the Trout and it had disappeared. I had seen the other fish under a bush below the bridge. A side cast, down and across, allowed the fly to drift under the leaves and I had caught one of the brace.

I stood on the bridge for a while, watching the water. Minnows were flipping about on the shallows and eventually the Trout rose in exactly the same place as last week. There must be a stone or some weed to give it shelter as the water there is quite shallow. I chose a black Neoprene Spider with a soft Partridge hackle and crept around the bed of stinging nettles into position. The first cast was short, I didn’t want to line the fish again. The next cast was perfect and I expected the fish to rise. Nothing. I changed the fly and tried again, no response. I thought I would rest the fish and go downstream for my next appointment.

The plan was to cast upstream of the overhanging bushes on the far bank and let the fly drift underneath. I put the fly down just past the rushes and let it swing round. The current was a little stronger than last week and the fly skated just as it reached the critical point. I flicked the fly out again, aiming to get a little closer to the far bank. It was too close and I snagged the fly on the bush. After tying on a new tippet and fly, I had a toffee to calm down.

I rested the fish and walked down to the Monster Pool, avoiding the Wasps’ nest. The rain made it difficult to see fish rising so I swapped to a nymph. I spent a while exploring the Monster Pool and the Long Pool but the fish were not interested. I wandered back to the Monster Pool and cast across under the big Oak tree. Just after the nymph had landed a Trout rose, inspected the fly and rolled away to safety. It clearly did not like the fly. I worked my way through the nymph box, convinced it was just a matter of time before I found something to it’s liking but the fish had seen enough.

I tried the two pools that I had rested but with no success. The rain was persistent, I was wet and cold. I had one last cast immediately below the bridge and caught a small Chub. I had an excellent Fish Casserole at The Badgers with a pint of Blonde, an excellent way to end the day.

Record temperatures this summer have made Trout fishing difficult. During the day the fish hide under the Alder and Oak trees,  deep in the roots. They don’t venture out of their shelters until late evening. This week has seen regular midday temperatures over 86 Fahrenheit, boosted by hot southerly winds straight from the Mediterranean. Much too hot for fishing. On the plus side, sundown is 7:15pm,  a civilised time for a few last casts and a pint.

The river had been busier than normal as members avoid the luke warm lakes and stressed Rainbows. I had seen a few fish at the top of the Rotherbridge Beat on a previous trip and planned to visit that stretch. However, as I pulled into the Rotherbridge car park I saw another car. Then Tony arrived in his Land Rover, followed by David. I decided to go elsewhere but when I got to Keeper’s Bridge two members were tackling up in the parking area. I wished them well and drove on to the Top Beat. Thankfully I had that stretch of river to myself.  I wandered across the field to the river. The remnants of last year’s potato crop were shooting amongst the stubble Pheasant poults were everywhere,  feasting on the spilt wheat grains.

Above the Monster Pool

The signing-in book was blank, nobody had fished the Beat for at least 3 days. As I crossed the bridge a good Trout spooked, swam downstream under the bridge and took shelter among the tree roots. I marked the fish down for the end of the session. I walked downstream about a hundred yards and sat on the soft grass while I set up my rod. A small fish rose opposite me in shallow water. It rose again several times making it’s way down the pool.  I tied on a Neoprene Spider and waited.  The fish rose and I flicked the fly just upstream of it. The fish came up, inspected the fly and disappeared.  The small wild fish are well educated, they have seen too many flies. I changed the fly to a Neoprene Buzzer and chopped the hackle short.  As I was about to cast a much bigger fish rose just above a Willow tree. I crept above the Willow and flicked the buzzer into the main current. The Trout rose in slow motion, looked carefully at the fly and took it confidently.  I lifted gently and the fish dashed across the river under an Alder tree.  The fight was long and hard but I eventually slipped the hook out of it’s throat and released the fish from the landing net. It swum off strongly.  I had only been there thirty minutes, things looked positive.

The Long Pool

As I walked down to the Monster Pool I saw another member walking upstream wearing a white shirt and ‘sky-lining’ the entire stretch. He’ll probably complain about the lack of Trout in the river.

I fished the Long Pool and Monster Pool with little hope of a take and then walked back upstream to the fish I had marked down earlier.  Before I got to the bridge I saw a swirl under a low hanging Alder tree, then another swirl.  A good fish was feeding greedily on midges. I peered under the branches and saw two fish competing for the hatching flies. I tied on a Neoprene Spider and put it under the tree with a neat side cast. A fish flashed at the fly but was put off by the leader which had curled downstream. The presentation would have to be improved.

Above the Monster Pool – Wasps Nest

I rested the fish which had moved down a couple of yards. They were soon back, swirling under the branches. I cast above the fish, let the bow in the leader drag round then released the fly line to drift down under the leaves. I saw both fish swirl and lifted into the biggest. Hurrah, it had all gone to plan. The Trout reacted strangely, it swam leisurely towards me just under the surface, wagging it’s tail. I immediately thought it was the fish I had caught an hour earlier so I turned and  reached for the net. That was premature. The fish woke up and dashed upstream, ‘pointing’ me and nearly breaking free as a loop of fly line caught around the reel handle. I eventually unhooked the Trout and nursed it in the landing net for about ten minutes.

After it had swum off I turned to climb the bank and saw a bullock standing over my rod. It’s front feet were perilously close to the expensive carbon fibre. My heart sank, the stupid animal was going to ruin my evening.  I crept along the grass on all fours towards the butt of the rod and slowly the curious beast backed away. Thank heaven, I nearly went home with a seven piece rod. Note to self: do not lay my rod in the grass.

I was happy with my brace of Trout and decided to pack up. As I got to the bridge the fish I had seen earlier jumped clear of the water in a two-fingered gesture.  It was unfinished business, I’ll meet him next time.

The pub was crowded, David arrived with a prospective new member who had caught a Trout in the weir pool.  It was raining heavily as I drove home and the temperature had dropped about 10 degrees. A cold front had moved in from the West. We need the rain.