The film Riverwoods is to be shown at Kings Nympton Parish Hall on October 20th. Admission is free I will be doing a short presentation after the film.
I was saddened to read of the death of Mike Millman a prominent angling Journalist whose words and pictures have been published throughout my angling life. I have chatted with Mike on a few occasions over the years and his passion and knowledge of angling history always shone through.
Times have changed dramatically since Mike Millmans younger days of angling adventure. He would certainly relish the influx of tuna into South West Waters.
“My interest in angling began during the war years when as a ten year old equipped with a ten foot bamboo rod purchased for 2d at a local seed merchants,thick cuttyhunk line, which was tied directly to the end of the cane, and a somewhat rusty hook, I would join with other boys and men too old for military service in pursuing mackerel from an old jetty.
Those were halcyon days when thousands of mackerel could be relied upon to arrive each summer evening, on the making tide, to feed on millions of brit that would form into huge ball for protection in the corner of a tiny harbour. Even now I can picture the predators slashing into the mass of tiny wriggling fish and feel the jerk on the line as one made a mistake and grabbed my hook, whch was wrapped in silver paper and dangled close to the ball.”
Extract from Sea Angling Supreme by Mike Millman publsiehd in 1979
He celebrated his 90th birthday on March 26 2023,
Through this passion and skill, combined with his love of fishing, he built a hugely successful career. Born in Plymouth in 1933.
Combe Martin SAC member Kyle Bishop braved stormy conditions to bank a superb brace of specimens including a new club record bull huss of 15lb 5oz and a tope of 46lb 2oz.
Banging trip out last month in the 50mph storm headed to ruff ground mark in search of a big Huss on my own , giving 4m swells I armed my self with a life jacket and a shit load of leads , after losing a load of gear was gonna head home when my rod arched over and line peeled off after a good few attempts to land the tope I finally managed to get a grip on its tale in between the massive swells she went 46.2 , quick pic and back she went ,next cast I landed an absolute beast of a Huss going 15.5 and new pb after struggling to land that as well I was happy to call it a day as swells were to dangerous , take some beating a trip like that on my own.
It was a peaceful Sunday morning as I negotiated the winding country lanes of the Quantock Hills on my way to Hawkridge Reservoir near the Village of Spaxton a few miles from Bridgewater.
Countryside illuminated by the early morning sunshine seemed to ooze tranquillity and timelessness. This seemed particularly poignant as I listened to the news on Radio 4. The terror of conflict in Israel, death and destruction on the dawn of a new war that will undoubtedly bring much sadness and breed yet more hatred.
I arrived at Hawkridge the mirror calm surface pimpled with rising trout. Herons stood fishing on the far bank.
I was with Wistlandpound Fly Fishing Club on their annual meeting with South West Fishing For Life. https://www.southwestfishingforlife.org.uk
The organisation has been running for over fourteen years and provides free fly fishing sessions for people who have one thing in common – breast cancer.
This friendly meeting always results in plenty of smiles as we share boats and try to tempt a few trout.
Members of the two groups slowly assembled beside the lake all eagerly eyeing the lake and its surface still dimpled with rising trout. On the far bank a couple of roe deer bounded into view disturbed by an angler approaching the far shoreline.
The draw was made at just after 10.00am and participants eagerly set off to various parts of the lake. My boat partner sadly failed to show leaving me soul occupancy of the boat a fate of hand that proved fruitful from a fishing perspective.
Loitering close to the dam end of the lake I drifted about for a while searching the water with a floating line and a team of flies. By now the fish had stopped rising as the unseasonably warm October sunshine illuminated the surroundings. After an hour with just one chance, I decided that the fish must be down in the water. As I wound in to change the lines over I felt a strong pull. A good sized rainbow appeared shaking its head to successfully rid itself of the hook.
I persisted with the change to a sinking line and allowed the boat to drift to rest against the buoys near the dam. A few fish were rising and I cast parallel to the buoys close to where a fish had showed. The line zipped tight and a spirited tussle followed before a pleasing rainbow was netted. An exciting hours sport followed as I hooked several trout some of which came off before I completed my five fish limit shortly after 1.00pm. The fish were all tempted using a blue flash damsel and generally took within seconds of the fly hitting the water. The fish were tightly shoaled and I had been lucky as I feel sure I would have headed to the far end of the lake if my boat partner had showed.
The morning session ended at 2.00pm and we all assembled back at the lodge for the presentation of prizes. I was slightly embarrassed to receive the top boat man’s award for my five fish haul that totalled 13lb. Peter Mullins took the SWFFL prize with a 2lb 12oz rainbow.
Sally Pizii had once again done a splendid job of organising the event.
I headed for home after a great morning’s sport and tuned into Radio 2’ and sounds of the seventies. The rest of the Wistlandpound Club headed back out onto the water. David Eldred completed his five fish bag to win the competition with 14lb.
The club result was : –
1st David Eldred. Five trout – 14lb
2nd – Wayne Thomas – Five trout 13lb
3rd – Colin Combe – three trout
4th – Roy Pink – Two trout
1st Simon Fewings 1lb 53/4 oz
2nd Marcus Harrell
3rd Liz Squires 1lb 4oz
4th Peter Harris
5th Nick Braunton
6th Anthony smith
7th Julian Stainer
8th John Cardew
9th Dick Talbot
10th Rob Harris
Juniors
1st Max Chappel
2nd Album clements
Best brace Simon fewings
The lake was still barely a breeze. The sky many shades of grey reflecting in the water.
“Its not easy, you’ll be lucky to catch on a short session said the angler on the lake.”
Twenty four hours that’s a long session for most anglers but not carp anglers who camp out for days waiting for their traps to work.
The reality of carp fishing sank home; pictures of bronze flanked carp adjourn the angling media including the pages of this website. Those pictures tell of the success not of the hours of inactivity.
It was my first trip to Torridge carp lakes and i was using a twenty four hour ticket I had won in Jamie Stewards raffle earlier in the year.
With the top lake full I headed to Old Meadow Lake and set up in the vacant end peg. The only other angler on the lake told me he had tempted a fine carp of over twenty pounds earlier in the day.
Sixty odd carp in 1 acre of water. plenty of features. A nice intimate lake surely I could winkle one out?
I had some quality bait from Remix Baits and set my traps in spots that screamed carp.
I settled into the bankside life.. Watching, observing plotting. Spodding out, measuring the wraps.
Afternoon drifts past, night descends.
I sleep intermittently.
Dawn of a new day.
Rebait, lines pointing out into stillwater’s all is still not a bleep.
Late morning a breeze stirs the water. A dragonfly hovers over the water, any moment now I think? But nothing happens.
It’s time to pack away. Nothing happened a blank trip.
Above a crow and a sparrow hawk play out a dogfight in the sky. The mewing of buzzard’s drifts across the lake. I thought back to the breaking of the dawn when the song of a solitary wren had emitted sweet melodies across the calm waters. The glimpse of the electric blue of a kingfisher. The owls hooting in the dead of night.