Combe Martin SAC member Kyle Bishop has caught a stunning thin lipped grey mullet of 5lb 3oz from the Taw estaury using fly fishing tactics. The fish is superb specimen in its own right but even more special having being tempted on fly fishing tactics pioneered by Colin Macloud.
“Great day on my boat with Craig Crafty Mcloughlin 
Sun flat sea & no easterlies for a change
Had 3 shark trips now but doing more lure fishing as well in between sharking
Landed this beauty 70cm plus & it went like hell on my slash 28g lure rod what a fight won’t forget that in a hurry!!!! C&R”
Mark now has three bass totalling 193cm
Reece Woolgar has two for 116cm
Mark Tossel one for 69cm
Oli Dietrich enjoyed a succesful recent trip to Lower Tamar lake where he tempted two 20lb+ carp and a stunning 12lb personal best bream on his home made baits.
https://www.medlarpress.com/code/bookshop?store-page=Song-of-the-Streams-p547451092
Inspired by tales of the past gleaned from old fishing books, the author sets out to fish those same waters, to cast the same flies on the same pools, to explore how fishing the streams of Exmoor might compare with fishing them over a century ago, whether those streams have changed and how they might be faring today. Exmoor rivers and streams appear pristine, barely changed since Claude Wade described them in his 1903 book Exmoor Streams, yet the numbers of trout he and other long-ago writers reported catching seem unbelievable today. Those streams must once have held an astonishing abundance of fish.
Modern problems affect even upland streams, yet many good folk are dedicated to their restoration and there is much we can do to help. River conservation work can be fascinating and rewarding as we develop a deeper understanding of river habitats through, for example, managing a balance of light and shade, monitoring aquatic invertebrates and cleaning riverbed spawning gravels then watching for their use when migratory salmon return home from the sea.
Those nail-booted, greenheart wielding fishermen of the past have gone but the streams still run on their wild ways, singing their endless songs to the moor. This book is for all who share concern for the wellbeing and conservation of our rivers and streams as well as those entranced by the rise of a trout to a well placed fly.
It had been a long day casting big flies for pike on the vast Chew Valley Lake in Somerset and we had just a few jacks to show for our efforts. We tramped back to the car and began to wearily sling the gear into the back of the vehicles. Should have played golf quipped Bruce, really! I replied in disdain. We both knew that we would have viewed such a day a waste of time. I commented that I am often asked by non-anglers why we go fishing as we only throw them back? I said I have given up trying to explain. Bruce paused and commented, “ I think we go fishing for moments, over the years there are those special memories that we sometimes catch and retain”.
This got me pondering as I drove home. At the time I was reading the classic tome “ Where the Bright Waters Meet”, written by Harry Plunket Green and first published in 1924. The previous night I had been reading of Blagdon Lake and the village of Blagdon.
“ But Blagdon itself will always remain one of the few places where the hand of man has improved on nature, bewitching in its beauty, with its Bavarian village, its purple sunsets, its nights with the thousand eyes, its kindly people, its virile sport and its blessed physical fatigue.”
Plunket enjoyed visits to the lake with his great friend H. T. Sheringham who also waxes lyrical about Blagdon in his book “ An Open Creel’ published in 1910. “ I have known rise from four-pounders missed because the angler was so busy admiring Blagdon Village, with its grey church tower and wealth of fruit blossom, and one cannot praise it more highly than by that confession.”
The words of Plunket and Sheringham drifted through my mind as I glanced down to the historic waters of Blagdon as I drove through the village and reflected upon my memories of Blagdon, those of the authors above and of Bruce’s words fishing for memories.
Through an angling life we do indeed gather memories and there not all directly related to special catches of fish. The places, the people and nature that surrounds are all embroidered into our minds eye.
Harry Plunket Greens classic book , “ Where The Bright Waters Meet” paints a generally tranquil picture of rural England and the quintessential Chalk streams that flow through peaceful villages. I wondered how much this had changed over a century and whether Plunkett would recognize his home village. Speaking to a fellow angler one evening he commented that little had changed in Hurstbourne Priors where Plunkett resided and fished the Bourne Rivulet all those years ago.
In early June Pauline and I arrived in the village of Longparish to explore the Test Valley and perhaps get a glimpse of Plunket’s England. A day’s fishing on the Test and its tributaries is prohibitively expensive so any casting of the up-stream dry fly would be virtual.
The delightful thatched cottage we stayed in was a short walk from the Test and we enjoyed several walks to watch its waters flow. On our first afternoon walk we heard the timeless and evocative call of the cuckoo echoing across the water meadows. Mayfly were fluttering above the water, occasionally dimpling the surface. I watched as trout sipped them down in classic style. I imagined casting a dry fly to these trout and the delectable moment of deceit as the trout is hooked.
We set off early in the morning to walk from Longparish to Hurstbourne Priors where HPG lived from 1902 until 1912. “the little Hampshire Bourne, in those days unquestionably the finest small trout stream in England.” Plunket reflects upon his first visit.
“It was a gorgeous day without a breath of wind, and the smoke from the thatched cottages rose up in straight blue lines against the dark elms of the hill behind. The valley ran at right angles to the one we had come through , and in the middle of it lay the village in a golden sheet of buttercups under the beechwoods of the deer park there ran a little chalk stream clear as crystal and singing like a lark.”
“There was a church half hidden in the trees and the people were just coming out after the service, and there was an indescribable feeling of peace over the whole scene. It was a typical picture of English country Life which Constable might have painted or Gray have sung.”
We walked a footpath across several fields on our way to Hurstbourne Priors. A red kite soared above the lush green valley and a hare bounded away from us as we disturbed its morning graze. We walked into Hurstbourne Priors and approached the centre of the village and paused at the entrance to the Cricket pitch looking across to the church partially hidden amongst the lush green trees of early summer. The scene before us was one of reassuring continuity. We walked slowly across towards the Thatched Cricket Pavilion and sat upon one of the green benches placed to commemorate the Jubilee of King George V in 1935. There was also a bench commemorating the Silver Jubilee of Queen Elizabeth 11 1952 to 1977.
We sat for a while soaking in the timeless vista. Swallows swooped low over the wicket and rooks paced upon the closely mown grass searching for worms. Harry Plunket Green was a keen Cricketer and includes reminisce about Cricket in his book and the two cricket teams in the village. The Hurstbourne Priors Club and the Hurstbourne Park Club.
We noted the notice in the club house window; Hurstbourne Priors Cricket Club is a friendly village club with a long history and is seeking to recruit and welcome new members. Looking out across the pitch It was apparent that little had changed since 1911 when Harry Plunket spent most of the summer playing cricket.
A path lead from the Cricket ground directly into the church yard where we hoped to locate the resting place of Harry Plunket Green. Ancient Yews grew within the grounds and it was pleasing to imagine the tranquil waters of the Bourne Rivulet just a few yards away hidden from view amongst the lush green growth of early June.
After a while strolling around the historic grave stones, We found a cross and at its base the inscription
HARRY PLUNKET GREENE
SINGER
1865 – 1936
Placed upon the grave stone were poignant boxes of old rusty flies left by anglers paying homage to a man who had shared his treasured memories and thoughts from a time now long since passed. High up on the lichen encrusted stone I found a recently deceased mayfly that seemed to symbolise the spirit of those bright waters. Harry Plunket Greens resting place is perfectly located between those bright waters that still sing like a lark and those mowed greens where leather meets willow on long summer days and evenings.
Harry Plunket Greene was a renowned singer of his time and toured Europe. He was Professor at the Royal Academy of Music (1911-19) and the Royal College of Music (1912). When he retired from teaching he devoted more time to writing about music and his passion, Fly Fishing. He was a member of the MCC, and president of the Incorporated Society of Musicians in 1933.
Later that afternoon we visited the village of St Mary Bourne close to where the Bourne Rivulet rises and wandered along the gin clear stream that passes through another delightful old English village of chocolate box thatched houses of red brick decorated with rambling roses of red, pink, gold and yellow.
The following day we headed to the National Trust property of Mottisfont. Its grounds border the River Test and its tributaries. Beside the Abbey Brook is a hut apparently used by the grandfather of Dry Fly Fishing F M Halford whose forthright and at times dogmatic views stimulated heated debate with G E M Skues who preached upon the effectiveness of the Upstream nymph. Halfords book ‘Dry Fly Fishing-in theory and practice’ published in 1889 still influences the anglers who fish the Test a century later.
We walked the river within the grounds of Mottisfont and gazed into those clear waters glimpsing a wide variety of fish. Not just large trout but specimen roach, grayling and perch. These tranquil waters with lush beds of ranuculus and clean gravel are undoubtedly the Fly Fishing equivalent to Lords Cricket ground. The strict rules of etiquette introduced by Halford’s doctrine have refined the art of fly fishing effectively making the catching of trout more enjoyable and rewarding.
On our last day in Hampshire, we headed for Stockbridge where it was easy to linger in a High Street punctuated by clear waters of the Test as they flowed through the small town. A tower in the heart of the town carries a golden trout weather vane. Swifts gyrated around it screeching their sound of high summer.
Two fine tackle shops sit either side of the High Street the last remaining Orvis Outlet store and ROBJENTS of Stockbridge. Both game fishing shops carry a wealth of fly fishing equipment and clothing. I chatted for a while with those in both shops and left feeling optimistic for the future of fly fishing despite many issues that blight our world.
We leave Stockbridge to walk the water meadows below the town. These havens for wildlife flank the Test and once again I relished the art of virtual fly fishing flicking an imaginary dry fly or upstream nymph. I spotted some beautiful thick bodied trout in the main river. A cuckoo’s summer song drifted across the buttercups and the river lined with water hemlock and yellow flag Iris.
We stopped for afternoon tea and coffee beside a small carrier stream the small brown trout clearly visible in the gin clear waters illuminated by the bright sunshine. I watched these small trout and remembered the wild browns of the tiny River Umber in North Devon where my lifelong love of fishing started.
The revered waters of the Test are famous throughout the world in parts manicured and stocked whilst other beats still hold wild and wily trout. Whilst all is not perfect it is perhaps to be noted that this corner of England seems to have retained a certain tranquil charm that is to be treasured. Those privileged to live and fish and walk these banks have in part due to wealth and nimbyism protected the worlds of Harry Plunket Green and F M Halford. And ensure that generations continue to fish for memories be it virtual or real.
Many thanks to Richard Wilson for allowing me to share his thought provoking prose on North Devon Angling News. This month Richard’s focus is climate change and the deniers and what we can for for our local rivers. For my part I spread the word and try to raise awareness of the threats to rivers from industrial farming, sewage discharge and over abstraction. I also undertake River Fly Monitoring, CSI Monitoring and volunteer with the National Trust assisting with wetland creation and conservation initiatives.
Once upon a time, back in the day, just about all online mentions of global warming provoked CAPS LOCK outrage:
“HUMAN-CAUSED GLOBAL WARMING IS THE BIGGEST HOAX EVER FORCED ON OUR PEOPLE. IT HAS NEVER BEEN ABOUT GLOBAL WARMING. IT HAS ALWAYS BEEN ABOUT CONTROL. GLOBAL WARMING IS THE LIBERAL’S ULTIMATE VEHICLE FOR CONTROLLING EVERYTHING EVERYONE DOES.” 1
My response to this sort of behaviour has been to hunker down. I don’t want to be heckled – who does? So I’ve been watching from a safe distance … and I think I’ve spotted a change in key-banger behaviour. Maybe you’ve noticed it too?
I wonder if they’re going a bit droopy – like that toy rabbit on TV with the wrong brand of battery? I’m talking sotto voce for now because I don’t want to wake them, but do you think they’re getting – old?
Musk has turned their Twitter volume up to 12, which hides some of the decrepitude, but it’s increasingly clear that a generation is thinning out. Back in their pomp they stood proud among friends, bonding over beers and howling at bogeymen. It was fun, the company was good and they felt like an unstoppable force. The world was theirs for the taking. Heck, they could even get laid. Those were days!
Then, over time, the group frayed and faded. Familiar faces moved away, some died and a lucky few retired to sunbeds by the sea. Now, depressingly, the headlong rush of young lust is a dim memory, and wearily beating a caps lock key won’t bring it back. Age has got their number.
So while I think we should feel some sympathy towards our denialists (we all get old), we should not be surprised by their plight. They are the original stay-at-home globalists, persecuted by malign world forces. This miserable everybody-hates-me-nobody-loves-me mindset also happens to be the signature trait of almost all conspiracy theories, so people who buy into one are predisposed to have a bucketful. If you know for a fact that George Soros and his glove puppet Greta can fake all the climate data everywhere, you also know that wherever you stash your cash The Global Elite will sniff it out (it happens all the time!).
It’s carnage out there in conspiracy land: Innocent bystanders are killed by 5G death rays, chemtrails, vaccines and fluoridated water, or abducted and raped by both real and false-flag aliens. The last generation of conspiracists had scary Reds under their beds and would be horrified to learn that today’s have Reds in their heads. Stalin was satan, Putin is a buddy, Kennedys won’t die and some Americans want a breakaway Red State Caliphate. I hope you’re keeping up.
Then there’s The Fear:
“GLOBAL WARMING/CLIMATE CHANGE, CALL IT WHAT YOU WANT. IT'S YET ANOTHER WAY FOR THEM TO FEAR-MONGER AND REDISTRIBUTE WEALTH.” 1
In contrast, statistics and fact-checking are inherently dull – but they can make a succinct point 2&3. Globally, most people believe that climate change is both a crisis and an emergency, echoing the language used by climate change campaigners. In the US, about 80% say climate change is happening, outnumbering those who think it isn’t by a ratio of more than six to one. In the UK, 90% think it’s real. And another fact: 99-100% of climate scientists say it’s real and deadly serious. That’s a slam dunk (for people who do facts – but not so good with voodoo).
Other forces also conspire to undermine our deniers, not least their own eyes. There are only so many decades you can fish the same river and not notice something’s wrong. And is there anyone for whom freak weather isn’t the new normal? So, according to the liberal wokesters at Forbes, hardcore denialist numbers have fallen to just 6% of Americans, which is still well above the global average of 4%. All of them hammering away at Twitter. Thanks again, Elon.
This climate data is, of course, all red-mist-inducing heresy for our remaining jihadi denialists, for whom an attack of heresy-rage is about as exciting life gets.
“THE DEPARTMENT OF DEFENSE SAYS THAT ‘GLOBAL WARMING’ IS A ‘NATIONAL SECURITY THREAT’. WHAT A JOKE. ANY EXCUSE TO STRIP CITIZENS OF RIGHTS.” 1
It’s a level of victimhood that‘s a hard sell among younger generations. More youthful movements offer rewards like happiness, cupcake recipes, glowing good health, a ripped body or, in Gwyneth Paltrow’s case, fragrant orgasms. Tik-Tok thrills mostly meet educated opinions. In contrast, conspiracy theories are gloom, doom and misery. Incels excepted, who’d double-click on that?
Back in my world, climate science is fact-based, measurable, progressive and has an off-ramp. We can slow down and change course. And for the hard-core miserabilists, all is not lost. You can also get utterly despondent about the science of global warming. The so-called climate-doomersprobably outnumber the deniers by a lot, and I suspect their roll-over and die mentality is as damaging to planetary well-being as the cranky deniers. Maybe there’s some misery-laden itch deep in the human psyche that we’re desperate to scratch?
Nevertheless, I’m going to puncture the glum-fest because we can do something about climate change. There is salvation in the denialist’s climate heresy.
Here’s how: There’s no shortage of great organisations committed to mitigating the impacts of climate change. Some of these actions need the power and deep pockets of government, while others are small and local. That means there’s a level of contribution to suit us all. We can volunteer &/or donate, big or small and as best we can. For example, I support organisations that work on conservation and legal protection for rivers and their catchments. And because most of us think this is now urgent, most of us can surely do something, no matter how small, because every little bit counts.
So, please, let’s all get involved. And let’s do it for our future generations because they’re going to have to live here. Maybe Gramps and Grandma will donate if it’s for their favourite river and their own family? Would their peer group really cancel them if they funded some research into migratory fish?
And last, please say hi to Gen Z and the Millennials. It’s their planet now.
I have a request: Who do you donate to or volunteer for? Feel free to give your favourite good causes a plug in the Comments below … let’s share some constructive actions and tell the kids we care. Good ideas are infectious, so let’s spread some.
FYI, I donate to The Atlantic Salmon Trust and Fish Legal. And I make losing bids in lots of good-cause raffles ….
Toby Basset and his family enjoyed a trip out of Ilfracombe on their family boat Lucy Ann. Pippa Bassett caught a stunning tub gurnard of 6lb a fish that is 2lb above the Angling Trust’s specimen rating for North Devon. Whilst only fishing occasionally Pippa undoubtedly has the angling equivalent of green fingers as on her last trip out last summer she boated a 51lb tope. The family also caught good numbers of mackerel, pollock to 6lb and several scad.
