Sussex Trout Fishing … and Devon

No Trout fishing for the last three weeks, I was chasing Chub and Barbel in Herefordshire on the River Wye. I fished on the Red Lion stretch at Bredwardine which is primarily a Salmon fishery. There were quite a few Salmon and Sea Trout showing and a local fly angler caught four brownies in one evening.

I became engrossed in the big river and didn’t miss the much smaller and peaceful Rother. Now I’m back home the hot weather has broken and after the madness of the Bank Holiday, it is time to head for Petworth. A delicate nymph is much more satisfying than a lump of luncheon meat.

The River Wye

The bad weather might have discouraged some members from visiting the river. The water won’t have risen as the long hot dry spell left the ground parched. The stubble fields are full of huge round straw bales. The salad crops in the dry sandy soil have soaked up the light August rain.

It was a lovely Autumn morning with a clear blue sky. The lawn was white with damp spiders webs. I drove down to Petworth wondering where to start. I went to Rotherbridge and watched the water, it was shallow and clear. There were no Trout moving but it was interesting to see the contours of the sandy river bed. It was level with a regular dimple pattern, just like the sand on a beach at low tide. I didn’t like the look of the Beat, it was lifeless and I decided to go further upstream.

I checked the log-book at Keeper’s Bridge. I was surprised to see that a few fish had been caught over the weekend despite the Bank Holiday wind and rain. I signed in and walked down the slope to the river. I stood and watched the river while sipping a beer; it was a beautiful evening. Two members arrived and walked upstream, well away from me. A couple of fish rose within casting range. I decided to concentrate on the pool immediately above the bridge. I set up a long leader to fish an Amber Nymph but fish were still rising to a hatch of small Olives. It didn’t make sense to fish a nymph.

I switched to a size 10 bushy dry fly and worked it under the Alder trees on the far bank. Every fish I covered stopped rising. A good fish just above the bridge, came to the fly, inspected it and disappeared. The fly or leader were spooking the Trout. Probably both. I swapped to a lighter leader but it twisted with the ‘helicopter effect’ of the fly. I chopped the hackle square under the fly and the lopsided fly didn’t spin as much.

Fish started to rise along the stretch above the bridge just as the sun went down. They were feeding on something tiny. I changed to a size 16 Adams on a 4lb tippet, chopped the hackle and cast ‘up and across’ to a rising fish. It took immediately and fought well. Bill happened to walk past and netted it for me, a bright coloured fish that swam off strongly. Success on the last cast. Bill had caught two fish on a large Grey Wulf, what a contrast to my approach.

We adjourned to the Badgers for a pint and a chat. It had been a hard session but rewarding. I had re-learned a lot. Why can’t I remember these things? Writing about it might help.

 

I hoped the river level had dropped. I checked the level on GuageMap, it was 0.026m. The weather had changed over the weekend, it had been dull and windy on Sunday. The temperature had dropped and the river should be in good condition. I wouldn’t know if the river was fishable until I crossed the bridge at Billingshurst.

Monday is always a good day to visit the river. A few members would have fished on Sunday evening but that keeps the Cormorants away. The weather forecast was unhelpful, sunny and 72 degrees. An evening session was my best option. I wondered about the temperature of the river. Was it one of the reasons why the fishing has been so difficult recently?

Dissolved oxygen levels decrease as the temperature rises.  Trout use about 50-60 milligrams of oxygen per hour at 41F. At the lethal limit of 77F they would need five or six times that amount. Fish need more oxygen at higher temperatures because their metabolic rate increases. At 86F there is hardly any dissolved oxygen. So the lower the temperature of the water the better it is for fishing. I will have to buy a thermometer,  something I’ve always dismissed as a gadget.

I stood on the bridge at Rotherbridge, the place that gave the river it’s name. Not the other way around. The water was clear and there were a few fish dimpling the surface, they were Dace not Trout. A member had already ‘signed in’ and I decided to go to Keeper’s Bridge. When I approached the arch of the old railway bridge I could see a car under the trees. I drove past and headed for the top beats.

As I walked around the edge of the field to Taylor’s Bridge I could hear voices. Two members were walking upstream chatting but not fishing. They didn’t see me as I crossed the bridge and went downstream to the shallow pool above the Monster Pool.

There is always a Trout in this pool, usually a small wild fish. I crept to the edge of the river bank and worked an Amber Nymph under the trees and down the edge of the weeds. After a few casts a frantic bow wave followed the fly but the fish missed it. I covered the whole pool working my way downstream towards the Monster Pool but I couldn’t get a response. I am always nervous at the Monster Pool as it produced my two best fish last year. I fished for about twenty minutes expecting a solid take at any moment. The fish had other ideas.

I moved to the Long Pool and after searching the edge of a weed bed, the line went solid and I thought I had hooked the roots. The rod thumped and a good fish thrashed on the surface. It showed a deep golden flank and then dived to the bottom of the pool. Luckily the pool had a sandy ledge and I was able to scramble down to the waters edge and net the fish. It was about 2lb and swam off back into the weeds. The water felt cool as I released the Trout.

The clouds were building in the West and I felt like a pint to celebrate. I walked back to the Land Rover and drove back down the old railway line. When I got to Keeper’s Bridge there were two cars parked under the trees. I decided to walk down to the river to see if the Trout were rising. I had a chat to the members who were waiting for the evening rise. The water looked good but there were no signs of fish.

I had a pint at the Badgers and as I drove home the contractors were cutting the Wheat. Combine Harvesters the size of a small house were cutting precise lines through the fields. In the dusk the head lights and spot lamps made them look like alien machines from a sci-fi movie.

I will buy a thermometer and make a habit of recording the water temperature at each visit. August has been a difficult month for the last three years. Next week I’m having a break from Trout fishing. No doubt the River Wye Barbel and Chub will be just as demanding.

After several failed attempts at catching a Sea Trout and the news that the Environment Agency annual survey had not found any fish, I was lacking confidence. The last trip to the river was unproductive.  I needed to catch a Trout to get back on track. South of Ockley torrential rain slowed me to 20mph but by the time I got to Five Oaks I needed sun glasses. Weird weather.

As I drove over the bridge at Billingshurst the North River was high and very coloured. It feeds into the Rother which I realised would be unfishable. I thought the lakes at Little Bognor would also be coloured so I turned right at Petworth and went to Great Springs.

As I entered the Estate the view across the Rother valley, the patchwork of fields and the cloudscape looked magnificent. I was surrounded by hundreds of acres of White Kidney Beans destined for cattle feed and to make humus. The millions of black seed pods made the fields look like the aftermath of a wild fire.

Tony, the Keeper, was at the club house carrying a thermometer. He said the water temperature was 26 degrees and a lot of fish had died. Things were not looking good. I took Tony’s advice and went to Luffs. I walked past Great Springs, it looked very quiet. A few fish were moving in the lower lake but they looked stressed and it was obvious that they were not feeding. The path through the woods was cool and quiet but it was too dark and enclosed for any wild life. Luffs lies in open ground and there was a steady breeze blowing up the lake from the dam end, it was enough to cool the water a few degrees.

While I set up my rod I sheltered from a shower of rain under a big Oak tree. Fish were rising along the far bank close to the weed beds. The rain stopped and everything looked soft and clean in the late afternoon sun. I flicked a size 16 Black Buzzer out across the ripple and almost immediately a fish flashed at it.

I explored the wooded bank at Luffs and saw a few fish rise but I couldn’t get a take. I wandered onto the dam end and saw a good fish cruising within casting range. The fly dropped perfectly, the fish rose in the water and turned towards the fly. The leader moved and I lifted the rod expecting a Trout. A small Roach had got there first. I caught another Roach and then moved to Upper Figgs. I didn’t see any signs of Trout so I walked down to Lower Figgs. It was looking lovely, the lilies and rushes made it seem like the perfect Tench water. There were no Trout, they were probably all dead.

It was a long walk back to the club house but it was peaceful in the woods. I’m glad I went for a walk around the lakes, the Estate is an unspoilt part of Sussex and it’s very calming. Catching a Trout is not as important as I thought.

The weather forecast was for heavy rain from 4:00pm onwards so I left earlier than I had planned. It was overcast with a gentle south-westerly wind and showers. I was in two minds which beat to fish. The middle beats would have been fished over the weekend and although I hesitated at Keeper’s Bridge, I went with my intuition and headed for the Top Beat.

As I drove up the old railway track a flock of Gold Finches kept ahead of the Land Rover, flitting from one bunch of thistles to the next. A very large Buzzard was circling over a tractor cutting the meadow, no doubt looking for lunch.

While I was setting up my rod the Keeper, Andrew, drove across the field for a chat. He told me that the Environment Agency had electro fished the stretch of river below The Badgers and had found nothing; no Trout or Sea Trout. Either the fish had not arrived or they had all migrated far upstream during the high water in June/July.

I started with an Amber Nymph that I had tied over the weekend. It was weighted and sunk nicely. The pool immediately below Ladymead looked very inviting, as I crept to the edge of the river a trout splashed at the head of the pool, above the fallen tree. I covered the entire pool carefully and was surprised not to get a take.

Although I was only wearing wellies, I was able to wade onto the sand-bar at Ladymead without getting my feet wet. I searched the pool with the nymph but there was no interest. I walked up the beat searching the deepest pools. I heard several fish splash under the trees but only where it was impossible to present a fly.

I got about half-way up the beat but at about 4:00pm dark clouds welled up over the South Downs and the rain started to fall. It was time to go. I walked briskly back to the Land Rover but I had left it a bit late, I was soaked. I dried off in the Badgers with a pint.