Sussex Trout Fishing … and Devon

The rain had coloured the river so I went to the club house at the lakes and had a cup of tea before starting to fish. Trout were rising everywhere. Mayfly, Damsel Fly, Alder and Olives were hatching in the warm humid weather.

Male Mayfly Spinner

Male Mayfly Spinners were fluttering in a group under the trees. They were very dark, almost black and smaller than the females.

I walked through the woods towards Lower Figgs. It was good to see that the estate had planted young Oaks among the more mature trees. I crept around the lake and watched the water. Trout were cruising in the margins taking Damsel Flies by the rushes. Next to  the outflow two Trout were grazing on tadpoles. Fish were rising all over the lake taking Buzzers and Olives.

I had a fish on a French Partridge Mayfly but it wriggled off. The fish became wary of my Mayfly imitation and I changed to a Black Neoprene Buzzer. Instant success, the first Trout looked about 2lb. I moved around the lake to the South bank and cast to a better fish. It took confidently and screamed across the lake, the fly line disappeared down to the curly bit near the spool arbor. Oops. If the lake had been bigger the Trout would have broken me. It turned under the far bank and  I coaxed it back across the lake, much reeling in was involved. That fish was under 3 lb but fought like a Trout double the weight. It was fin perfect. A great afternoons sport.

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I was determined to fish the river, the lakes were off limits. The flash floods had subsided. The gauge at Halfway Bridge read 0.048m and the river level was dropping. That wasn’t ideal but hopefully the water wouldn’t be too coloured.

Rain was forecast for Wednesday and the river would rise again. This trip needed maximum effort, I might have to wait a week for my next opportunity.

I was disappointed, the water was still coloured. As I looked downstream a fish rose just by the bridge and that spurred me on. I made base camp at Keeper’s Bridge, had lunch and resolved to concentrate on that beat. I had seen a fish and another member had caught a decent fish below the bridge the previous week. It made sense to stay there. The short stretch of river by the bridge always inspires me. Probably because I have had some great sport there. It was sunny, 57 Fahrenheit, with a gentle North West breeze. No excuses for sloppy presentation in those conditions.

I watched the water for about an hour and saw another fish rise just above the Alder trees. I crossed to the North bank. With the sun in my face and a gentle breeze, I quietly covered every inch of the pool with a nymph. Nothing. I crept back to the bridge and worked the water where I had seen the fish. After about twenty minutes I had a gentle take but missed it. It felt like a small, wild Trout. I lengthened the cast and a few minutes later a decent fish flashed at the fly. I couldn’t tease it into taking. Shortly after that I had a follow, close to the near bank, from a small Trout. I rested  the pool. First cast I had a good take. The fish turned sharply and threw the hook. The pool was trashed so I crossed the bridge and went to the Sandy Pool.

I searched every inch of the pool but there was no sign of life. I thought the pool above the bridge might be worth another try but after another hour I gave up and went to The Badgers.

The pub was empty, I had a nice quiet pint and read Country Life. After five hours in the sun, working hard to catch a Trout, I needed a beer.

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The river had risen six inches and was unfishable. Prior to the overnight rain the river had settled down to a good level and had lost most of its colour. The start of the Mayfly hatch might be delayed, it was so frustrating. I would have to fish the lakes.

The weather was unusual. A strong North East wind, 70 degrees, humid and hazy sunshine. I parked by the club house and wandered around Great Springs, sipping coffee and watching the trout. The marginal Willow trees were shedding debris onto the lake surface and the trout were cruising up the wind lanes searching for food. Alder flies were settling on my shirt and there were Damsel flies everywhere.

I walked through the woods to Lower Figgs, then sat on the soft grass to rest and cool down. There were fish rising in the feeder stream and along the edge of the rushes. A good fish was rising close to the rushes. It rose regularly in the same place. I chose an Iron Blue with hackle point wings for no particular reason other than it looked nice. No Trout could refuse it. I worked my way down the edge of the rushes casting carefully, gradually getting closer. Finally, the critical cast. The fly floated down gently in exactly the right place, there was a swirl and I lifted into the fish. It went berserk. The Trout screamed off to the far bank then to my right, heading for the island. I left my net behind, trod on the line, tangled it around the reeds; it was amateur half hour again. How that fish stayed attached is a mystery. It was about two and a half pounds and fin perfect.

I crept along the bank by the fir tree plantation, it was too hot there so I walked around the lake to the windy side. Fish were rising everywhere. I stalked a few of the better fish but they shyed away from my fly. I changed to a Sedge and immediately had a take. I captured the exact moment the fish took the fly. The photo shows the rise and the leader snaking away, it was time to lift the rod. Although I was messing about with the camera, I landed the fish. It was full of buzzers and corixa, so much for ‘matching the hatch’.

Tony, the Keeper, gave me a lift back to the club house, a perfect end to a lovely afternoon.

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Fishing and photography go well together. I am usually by the water or in the countryside several times a week and there are lots of photo opportunities. I travel light when fishing. There is no enjoyment in lugging mountains of gear around. I don’t want a heavy camera hanging round my neck when I’m exploring the coast or the moors. Fishing bags and camera boxes remain in the back of the Landrover.

‘January Sunrise’ – Digital

Digital cameras are convenient and full of technology but I am not comfortable with mine. The camera in my iPhone is excellent but it has a mind of it’s own. I find myself constantly trying to override the settings that an Apple geek has chosen for me. However, it is small and light and I never leave home without it. Everyday there are photo opportunities. I want to take them.

‘Paddling’ – Digital

The Olympus OM2 was the cutting edge of camera technology when it was launched in 1975. It was the first camera to meter ambient light and flash, off the film surface giving continuously variable exposures from 1000 of a second to 1 minute. Amazing. My OM2 body was broken during a storm when the tripod fell over and smashed the camera on a rock. A very nice man in Olivers Photographics, Penzance found me an identical replacement.

‘Storm’ – Olympus OM2, Ilford FP4

I use the OM2 with Ilford FP4 film for landscape photography. I have the film processed by Ilford Labs and use The Print Space for big prints. I have to take time over composition and exposure, I can’t take fifty shots and select the best, it’s too expensive. Film imposes constraints but the end results are worth it.

‘Bodiam Castle’ – Olympus OM2, Ilford FP4

Of the thousands of images I have made, only one can be seen as a print on the studio wall. The others are viewed online and that detracts from the quality of a fine black and white negative. I think the superior quality of the film images shines through even though they are being viewed digitally. Perhaps this compromise makes the best of both technologies.

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I planned to fish the evening rise more this season. Last year I generally fished late morning and early afternoon before visiting The Badgers. The weather looked good, dull and damp after the weekend heat. The river level was down and everything seemed to be in my favour. However, when I arrived at Keeper’s Bridge there were two cars under the trees. This is unheard of. I kept going to the top beat, it was a long drive up the old railway but there were no cars there, I had the river to myself.

As the engine died the first drops of rain splattered on the windscreen. I had to laugh. I set the rod up and signed the beat book. Upstream or down? I heard a chain saw quite close by, the fallen Oak by Ladymead was the target. Too much noise, downstream it would have to be. As I crossed the bridge I was pleased to see that the water had cleared a bit. I could just make out the weed and gravel in mid stream. The gravel is dark stone, probably washed down from the artificial redds by the winter floods.

I started on the North bank above The Oak pool. A little wild Trout chased the nymph just as I was lifting off at the end of the first cast. That was promising and made me concentrate as I fished the entire pool. The rain got heavier and I took shelter under an Alder tree while scanning the water for rises. There were none.

I fished the Long Pool thoroughly from top to bottom, it looked a very good place for Sea Trout. I wandered down to the Island Pool and had a look at the Willow that has fallen across the entire width of the river. It’s very good cover for the Trout but completely unfishable. I lost my nymph in the Willow and decided to visit the pub. On the way I stopped at Keeper’s Bridge to look at the beat book. A member had caught a nice fish on a nymph just below the bridge. Rats. The pub was crowded and noisy, it’s nicer mid-afternoon.

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