Sussex Trout Fishing … and Devon

It was a dewy, misty morning that promised to burn off and reveal a roasting hot summer’s day. The Mayfly would rise at midday and I would be there to see them. That was the plan. Preparation is everything; P20, Jungle Formula, lunch, camera charged. It would be a perfect day.

I like the drive to Coultershaw, the country lanes and sleepy villages set the scene for a peaceful day by the Western Rother. As the Land Rover swings on to the old railway track I can look down from the embankment and see the swiftly flowing river as it leaves the weir and fish pass. It always looks promising.

I parked under the Hazel Tree, signed in and walked down the lane to Keeper’s Bridge. I sat at the top of the pool and had lunch; bacon and egg sandwich and a beer. Yummy. While I was setting my rod up a fish rose several times about half way to the bridge, in mid-stream. I marked it down and searched the fly box for inspiration.

I chose a dark hackled Mayfly on a size 10 barbless hook. I crept down the pool and flicked the fly out on a short line. The trout rose on the third cast, circled the fly, came back for it and took it confidently. The Trout was on briefly. Rats !

I rested the pool and about twenty minutes later another fish started to rise. I put it down with some clumsy casting. A fish rose once at the very top of the pool but I couldn’t present the fly properly, there was too much drag.

I wandered downstream to the straight pool below the Alder tree. It looked so inviting.

I watched the pool for about an hour and saw a few Mayfly hatch but there was no rise. I tried some exploratory casts at the tail of the pool but there was so much debris on the surface the Trout probably couldn’t see the fly.

I went back to the bridge and drifted a nymph through the pool, a fish swirled at the site indicator and ignored the Amber Nymph. I should have persevered with a Mayfly.

I visited Jacksons Lake on the way home, it was full of millions of tadpoles. I saw a couple of carp but no trout.

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It was a glorious morning, bright sunshine, fluffy white clouds and a gentle breeze. I got to the river at the crack of 11:30am and had a leisurely lunch resting against the parapet of Keeper’s Bridge. The water level at Halfway Bridge was 0.045m which is the lowest it’s been this year. The water was coloured but the streamer weed was visible in mid river. A few Mayfly were coming off, the swallows were catching most of them before they could reach the safety of the trees. A couple of noisy Buzzards spiraled along the edge of the wood and a small plane from Goodwood spluttered across the sky.

I browsed through my box of nymphs and chose a light coloured, size 10 Mayfly nymph with added weight. The tippet was about four feet and I used fluorescent orange putty on the knot with the leader. I cast across and down and worked the pool above the bridge carefully. After about thirty minutes I had a take as I was lifting off at the end of a cast but the fish wasn’t hooked properly.

I walked downstream on the South bank until I saw a fish rise. It rose a few times in the same place and was obviously feeding. Mayfly started to hatch and three or four fish repeatedly rose all over the pool. I couldn’t see any adult Mayfly on the surface, the Trout were probably taking the nymphs or emerging flies. To confuse matters, the water was covered with tiny white seeds from the willow trees. I tried a size 10 Mayfly but the Trout were not impressed. I swapped to a large Mayfly Spinner. A Trout rose, sneered at my imitation and turned away. I changed to a size 12 short hackled Mayfly and this was taken by the first fish that saw it. Hurrah ! My first decent fish from the river this season. The disturbance put all the other fish down.

Size 12  short hackled Mayfly

I walked down towards Rotherbridge but I couldn’t find any rising fish. The river had been stocked earlier in the day but the new fish were not showing, they will have settled down by Thursday. I made my way back to the Land Rover and drove to The Badgers for a celebration pint.

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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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