Another year has almost ended as we approach the Winter solstice on December 21st and whilst we have only just entered winter this date signals the journey towards the spring and rebirth. As an angler my thoughts are tempered far more by the changing environment than the man made calendar.
Much of my angling effort at this time of year is beside the sea casting baits into the darkness from the local rock marks. The mystery of the sea entrances and entices vigils beside the water in hope of spurdog, bull huss, ray, conger and perhaps cod. The changing climate is influencing what we catch and this provides an exciting ever evolving challenge.
As I grow older I know that my days clambering around the rocks are numbered. I have had a few near misses and grow increasingly aware of the risks. But I just love being beside the water the anticipation and the feeling of being out there in the elements.
Whilst the salmon and sea trout fishing is months away I still take an interest in their life’s journey and try to glimpse the fish spawning on the redds high on the moors. I peered over a bridge on Exmoor a few days ago, a salmons wasted carcass lay upon the gravels. I wondered if it had succeeded on its journey and contributed to the next generation?
How has the weather impacted upon this years spawning a big spate in mid November had helped the fish to forge to their spawning grounds but since then the rivers have shrunk back after a period of little rain. What happens this year will affect the fishing season around 2021.
Stillwater trout provide a temporary connection with fish of an adipose nature. Hard fighting rainbow trout in cold clear waters with the thrill of the take and a great excuse to be out enjoying the great winter outdoors.
I read of carp and plan to cast more for these fish next year if I can find the time. There are so many waters that hold carp these days but which water suits my style of fishing. Commercial fisheries offer the chance of a personal best and I am tempted to chase a thirty pounder. Yet a neglected overgrown pond that is seldom fished appeals more to my carp fishing soul.
If I find time I will target perch and pike over the coming months. Pike is surely the essence of winter coarse fishing. A red tipped float optimistically poised upon dark waters that reflect the skeletal trees and dead reeds of winter.
A foray after grayling in cold clear waters trotting a float or casting an upstream nymph. Perhaps a session after silver flanked roach with crimson fins. As I list the joys of winter fishing I no longer struggle with the melancholic atmosphere of the season for I know that I cannot hope to fit in all that I wish to do before the spring arrives full of promise. All too soon we will meet in a riverside Inn and discuss past seasons and enthusiastically embrace the start of new salmon season. Trout fishing will commence on rivers and reservoirs. In the words of Jethro Tull; “Life’s a long song,
But the tune ends too soon for us all”.
How time flies I thought when Danny Watson at Ilfracombe’s High Street Tackle told me that he and his partner Pauline Chard had been running the shop for three years. In that time they have built up an impressive range of stock covering all disciplines of angling. Danny has a particular passion for lures which is reflected in the range of lures carried in the shop with top brands represented including Fiiish Black minnow, Delande, IMO, HTO and several GT Ice cream surface lures. I was discussing lure fishing in depth with Danny and the application of lures outside of the traditionally accepted season. Strangely this was highlighted when I received reports of a good catch of bass from a North Devon mark using lures.
In addition to lures the shop also has an impressive selection of rods and reels by top brands including Penn and Tronix. Looking along the rod racks it is amazing what is available these days at a very modest cost with plenty of rods retailing for less than £50.
They also have a good stock of frozen bait including AMMO. Next Summer High Street Tackle are proud to be supporting Combe Martin Sea Angling Clubs Fun Fishing Event in conjunction with the SEA-ILFRACOMBE FESTIVAL.
In the run up to Christmas High Street Tackle certainly has plenty to offer with a wealth of stocking fillers to please any angler.
Angela Patchell contacted me in the hope that I could help promote her piscatorial based artwork. It looks great to me so I have shared a short article from her with a few images of her work.
“Award-winning Artist & Designer Angela Patchell tells about her passion for drawing fish
I have always lived by the sea or close to the river bank. I find it gives me the sense of well-being and tranquility that I need to create my fish artworks. I began drawing fish and sea shells as a child, we lived in East Africa which meant I could collect amazing sea shells and seafood from the Indian ocean. I now live in North Devon and Wicklow, Ireland with it’s abundance of fish-filled rivers and sea fish.
I avidly collect every type of fish available to me, occasionally swapping my drawings for real fish.
I meticulously study each fishes texture, pattern, colour and shape. My aim is to achieve a “fossil like quality” in my drawings so I rub real fish skin into Indian ink, this is an ancient technique used by Japanese fisherman to record fish catches. I then draw into the rubbings with graphite, inks, charcoal and pastel. This lengthy technique gives each fish drawing a tactile, fossil-like quality which gives my artwork a real unique quality.
The paper I use to draw my fish on is hand-made sourced from Himalaya. It is important to me to use natural plant materials with the papers I use and to get my fish from a sustainable fish source.
Angela Patchell’s fish artworks are exhibited and sold world-wide. She has recently been commissioned to work with a celebrity chef to create a range of bespoke linen for his seafood restaurants. If you would like to commission or purchase an original artwork visit her online gallery at www.angelapatchell.com
After one of the driest Autumns for many years the rains eventually came courtesy of storm Angus the West Country’s rivers became raging torrents sweeping tons of leaves and debris seaward. The game anglers of the region are well aware that the deluge of freshwater will allow thousands of salmon and sea trout to forge eagerly upstream towards the redds where they will fulfill their destiny in spawning at their birthplace to ensure future generations.
Those who fish for salmon are amongst the most active of conservationists working with the Environment Agency and organizations such as the West Country Rivers Trust to give nature a help in hand wherever possible. Members of the River Torridge Fishery Association have for several years run a small hatchery that was initially set up under guidance from the EA. The hatchery is now run entirely by the association with volunteers working tirelessly each winter to secure broodstock, strip, fertilize eggs and then nurture the precious result of their efforts until stocking out swim up fry in early spring.
(Above) Paul Ashworth, Ken Dunn, John Graham and Paul Coles
I was delighted to join four members of the association to assist in trapping this years broodstock at a location nestled away in a valley within the Torridge catchment. The salmon are trapped and netted before being carefully transported to the hatchery in an oxygenated tank of river water. The salmon are then kept after careful treatment to reduce risk of infection. When ready to spawn they are stripped of their eggs and milt before being returned to the river.
The first trapping of the day had been unsuccessful as thousands of leaves had blocked the traps upstream end. This second trapping was to prove more successful with a 9lb hen salmon secured. A fine sea trout of around 4lb was also caught and released above the trap to continue its upstream journey. It was thrilling to get up close to this beautiful fish as it neared the end of its migration.
The following day produced two more hen salmon and two cock fish. Another trapping session will hopefully secure enough fish for another successful hatchery season.
It is difficult to measure the success of the hatchery that has over the years produced many thousands of swim up-fry. The anglers that work so hard can only hope that they are making a difference and that one day one of the fish they have helped will give that delightful draw on the line as the fly is seized in a magical moment of deception.
Salmon will be spawning on many locations across the West-Country high on the moors and in rivers where few suspect such mighty fish can swim. Each winter I take time to walk the river bank in the hope of glimpsing the salmon as they carry out their annual ritual. It is always fun to speculate upon the size of fish that make it to the spawning grounds and dream of those spring and summer days when the fishing season is once again in full flow.
(Above) A fine sea trout
(Above) The salmon is carefully measured and a record kept of all fish caught as broodstock.
(Above) These brown trout would delight the trout fisher on long summer evenings.
The mailing systems between and Angling Heritage and River Reads have now been separated so we can now focus on AH individually, rather than on the back of the River Reads newsletter necessary to minimize the costs as we get established. The archive now generates sufficient funds required to move the Trust on to the next level.
Over the last month we have received a written piece by Hugh Miles about ‘Filming the Great and the Good’ which is free to view in the “Articles” section, together with a selection of photographs of him filming Peter Stone which can be seen in the ‘Photographs’ archive.
If you read Hugh’s notes, you will see that the series of films that he made whilst at college have sadly been disposed of. This is a tragedy for Hugh and for angling losing the film of these famous anglers. We don’t know if copies were ever made, and I have spoken to Barrie Welham and David Carl Forbes’ family without success, so if you know of it surviving anywhere, please let me know so that both Hugh and AH can get a copy.
This shows how badly needed the angling archive is to preserve any film for the future, and we are grateful for the donation of an old 8m cine film that is currently being digitised for the archive (and the donor gets DVD too). If you have any such film of footage, please loan them to us for preservation. We are not looking to keep it, merely to try to preserve it and return it to the owner (whose name is credited with the donation on the website too).
We have also added a video of over an hour in length of the interviews we made when supporting Hereford Museum on their River Life Project in 2013 which is accompanied by a series of photographs appropriate to the text. This shows how our work can be galvanised when working with other organisations; something we are looking to expand on in the future.
As ever, the Trust relies on you, in donations (financial and of material), archive loans, and also in paying to view the archive or becoming members, and we thank you for your growing support.
Keith has just returned from a fishing trip to Canada with renowned wildlife photographer Hugh Miles.
I read somewhere that you cannot lose what you have not had a fact that makes a mockery of losing a fish. Yet any angler will know that to lose a big fish can at that moment seem like a major disaster. Over the years most anglers will have suffered that deflating moment when the line falls slack or all goes solid when the life on the end of the line is gone.
Strangely looking back it is these lost fish that often linger longer in the mind than the big fish that are successfully landed. Losing fish is generally down to bad angling, occasionally down to bad luck.
On a calm November night several years ago I was stood upon an old stone jetty hoping to make contact with a tope. An hour into the flooding tide the rod tip nodded and the ratchet sang out as something headed out to sea with my flounder hook bait.
The rod arched over and line poured from the reel. Never before had I felt such awesome power. Stood leaning into the fish, the rod straining, the line cutting out into the dark waters of the Bristol Channel. A hundred yards or more of line melted from the spool despite the application of as much pressure as possible. Tension mounted as the reels spool began to look decidedly low on line! Eventually the fish stopped far out in the murky waters of the night.
Application of constant pressure persuaded the fish to come my way and line was gradually won back to be lost as the fish surged away making shorter runs as it began to tire. After what seemed an eternity I began to feel that the battle was going my way.
Eventually the angle of the line began to point at a deeper angle into the dark water as the mighty fish weakened. Anticipation grew as we hoped for a glimpse of mighty fish on the end of the line. Suddenly to my dismay all went solid with just twenty yards outside of the top rod ring. I pulled as hard as I dare but this brought no response; slackening the line brought a glimmer of hope as line was pulled seawards and the rod once again surged in the hands. Hope was short lived though as once again all went solid when I attempted to retrieve line. After a few minutes there was no life transmitted through the line.
Twenty minutes later I was forced to pull for a break and hope. The line parted with a crack and I was left with that sinking feeling of loss. I am sure that the fish was a huge tope fifty pounds plus or maybe more. Bad luck or bad angling, to my knowledge there were no serious snags, an old pot rope was I imagine the snag?
If I had put on more pressure perhaps the fish would have been a few vital feet higher in the water?
A couple of years later I was to lift a huge fish from the sea, a record-breaking tope of 66lb 8oz to the rod of my good friend Kevin Legge. I cannot help but wonder how big that fish was I lost that November evening for I have both held the fish of dreams and lost one too.
I found this article this evening whilst looking for something else on the computer. It first appeared in the monthly Sea Fishing Magazine that went out of circulation a while back.
A visit to a remote beach I last fished over thirty years ago gives cause for reflection and analysis of the passing years.
On summer nights we waded out into the surf and cast our strips of mackerel into the dark night beneath star-studded skies. The high cliffs and hills towered above us; behind us on the foreshore paraffin Tilley lamps hissed emitting a comforting glow. We held our rods in eager anticipation as the early flood tide crept up sandy channels between the rock and kelp. The cool night air filled with that delightful aroma of surf and seaweed. The Modern Arms super flex hollow fibreglass reverse taper beachcaster was matched to an ABU Ambassadeur 7000c with its iconic red side plates. This was loaded with dark blue 18lb b.s Sylcast line. Of course not every night was a success though sometimes it all came together and that slight tug on the line would be followed by a powerful lunge as a silver sided bass moved away with the bait. The rod was swept back and we would run backwards up the beach to set the hook. The drama of the battle remains etched upon the mind and the sight of the bass as it came to the shore with its bristling defiant fins. Followed by the triumphant moment when the silver prize was held aloft to be gazed upon in wonder.
Looking back into old diaries I find notes of successful forays. On one such night we fished from 9.30pm until 6.00am and I landed a bass of 6lb 14oz whilst my mate Nick Phillips landed a fine bass of 8lb 4oz. This was September 5th and 6th 1980 hard to believe that it was over thirty fours years ago. Looking at my diary I fished there again the following summer landing a bass of 6lb 10oz. These bass whilst not huge were the culmination of several summer and autumn nights fishing this wild and rugged beach. I had first fished the beach in 1976 after hearing of a double figure bass landed from this remote shoreline. In 1976 I was a teenager of fifteen mad keen on fishing especially for bass and grey mullet.
Those nights of adventure are vivid images burnt into my memory. I wonder how many teenagers would venture out to fish through the night these days? Back then the Combe Martin Sea Angling Club had a strong junior membership of over twenty. For a few years sea fishing was all the rage amongst the village youth. Of course in this day and age how many parents would allow their children to disappear onto a wild rugged shoreline and fish through the night returning home the following day long after the sun had risen.
There was an elderly gentlemen I knew who had lived in the village all his life and must have been into his late eighties. He had fought through the First World War and undoubtedly had many tales to tell. I remember him mentioning the beach and how they had set long lines there as boys. Did you catch bass I asked? No codling he replied and lots of them.
I have intended to go back to this beach many times over recent seasons but had not got around to it until I eventually set a date in the diary to meet up with long time fishing buddy Kevin Legge. I had viewed the beach from high above back in the spring after the winter storms and was heartened by a large expanse of sand. The beach has always been a mixture of rock and sand patches with dense kelp beds flanking the beach at low water.
On this evening in early September we arrived at the top of the cliff after a strenuous hike and looked down at the familiar bay below. The path descended winding through dense blackthorn, bracken and brambles. The sweet fragrance of honeysuckle hung in the air and the distinctive sound of crickets was all around. The last few yards to the beach saw us scramble down a grey scree of loose shale and mud.
Standing on the beach I was eager to tackle up but paused a moment or two to take in the scene. The tide had already pushed up past the sand and onto the steep shelving shingle. The sun was still high in the sky and illuminated the familiar coastline that I have fished for over forty years. A big swell was pounding the shoreline, that familiar smell of surf and seaweed filled the air.
The mile long walk to the mark would have been hard going in waders so Kevin had worn light weight walking boots, whilst I had worn a pair of old trainers. Waders and wading boots were packed in our rucksacks to don on arrival at the beach.
I baited with a side of Ammo mackerel whilst Kevin elected to use a large portion of juice and scent oozing spider crab. The baits were launched out beyond the breakers. A considerable quantity of weed could be seen close into the shore and it was obvious that this could cause us difficulties if the line became fouled. To conquer this we held the rods high up to keep the line clear.
After twenty minutes or so Kevin indicated that something had intercepted his bait. Kevin seldom rushes and analysed what was happening out beyond the waves. A tap on the rod tip was followed by slackening line as whatever had the bait moved towards the shore. The rod was lifted and the reel handle cranked until the prize was persuaded to come towards the beach. I placed my rod in the rod rest as high as possible and walked to the waters edge. We both expected to see the silver flanks of a bass but it was no bass that emerged but a bull huss of around 8lb!
To catch in full daylight was a great start to the session as the best time is generally at the turn of the light or after dark when many species move closer to the shoreline. The night’s High water was an hour after sunset; ideally it would have been an hour later but we could only fish Saturday night due to work and other commitments.
Whilst it was light we could observe the presence of the floating weed and at times it was possible to fish with rods upon a rest with the butt cups situated well up the tripods back leg with the rod tip high. As darkness fell I decided to try and fish a second rod and improve my chances. Shortly after casting it became obvious that weed had fouled the line as the rod tip bounced with the crashing of each wave. I reeled in quickly placing the rod with my tackle at the top of the beach. As I returned to the other rod I cursed for I had undoubtedly missed my first chance of a fish as the line had fallen slack ensnaring the line in several pounds of weed.
I continued with the fish bait using a cocktail of Ammo mackerel and dirty squid fished on a pennel rig consisting of 6/0 Sakuma Extras. After casting out I made every effort to ensure that the line was tight with the rod held high. A large rock at the top of the beach enabled me to clamber higher ensuring the line was well clear of the breaking waves and weed. At around high water I felt a tap followed by slackening line, on setting the hook I felt that pleasing living resistance as the fish was brought ashore. Again it was not the expected bass but another plump huss of 5lb to 6lb. After a quick picture out went fresh bait that was once again intercepted after a few minutes with another similar sized huss brought writhing through the surf.
Kevin was also getting bites but failed to connect until eventually hooking the culprit a plump codling of a couple of pounds.
We fished the tide back for two hours of the ebb and packed away close to midnight. With a star-studded sky high above we set off up the steep winding path to the top of the cliff where we lingered for a few moments to glance back across the Bristol Channel and the bay.
It was hard to believe that it was over thirty years since I had last walked this path rod in hand. I will be back to fish the beach again soon in hope of a silver bass. Time stands still on this wild beach as generation’s fish there from time to time. A hundred years ago my old friend caught codling, as did Kevin on this night. We never caught bull huss on our trips three decades before so perhaps this reflects an increase in numbers of this species. Strangely I have never seen a dogfish caught from the venue.
It’s a strange perspective returning to a mark after thirty years in some ways nothing has changed. This gives a comforting realisation that nature and the landscape endure beyond our mortality. Next morning my aching legs reminded me that I was either getting older or I needed to get more regular exercise. The fishing tackle we used had improved but in reality it contributed little to the experience. We tend to think that there were more fish about thirty years ago but in reality my fishing diary tells a different story. Whilst we remember the silver bass we forget the blank sessions and nights when we caught just a couple of pouting.
TOP TIPS
If it’s a long walk pack the waders in the rucksack and wear light weight walking boots or trainers.
If there is a lot of weed fish one rod and hold the tip high.
Observe where the weed is gathering twenty yards along the beach it may not be as dense.
Be aware that beaches change with sand and rock patches changing with tides and storms.
Where has that summer gone, those long evenings full of promise? Tonight I grabbed a couple of hours at Watermouth with James hoping for a few mackerel over top of the tide. The sun was illuminating the high cliffs of Exmoor to the East, porpoises were showing just a short distance from the shore and gannets were swooping and gliding in the evening sky.
It was good to be there with a rod in hand even though things didn’t go exactly to plan! After twenty minutes I eventually hooked a string of small mackerel, then next cast had a birds-nest!! Worst for years. Still plan “B” I launched a whole live mackerel out beneath a standard orange tipped sea float. Time to chill a bit and absorb the scenery with the rod in hand and the hope of a good fish. On two occasions on the retrieve a bass shadowed the bait.
James float-fished beside me and the float only sank once as he glanced away.
Mobiles and float-fishing do not mix!
There is a mixture of feelings at this junction of the year, a slight sadness that summer has drifted past. Optimism as we enter the three best months of the year for sea fishing.
I glimpsed the spotted flank of a good-sized brown trout in edge of the river and vowed to return with the fly rod and suitable selection of offerings. Warm sun was beating down and we had suffered a blank outing to the river in search of thin-lipped grey mullet. We had glimpsed a shoal further up stream but they had drifted out of sight after a baited Mepps spinner was cast close to them.
James was lacking enthusiasm; tired after a few too many ales the previous night he would have preferred a day sat quietly watching his rod chilling with bait in the water. It was a warm humid day’ cows ambled lazily swishing their tails as flies buzzed around them. Their scent and that of estuary mud hung in the air. The sky was blue with high white cotton wool clouds and barely a breath of wind. The day had slipped by surprising quickly despite the lack of success and I told James a little of the history of this pleasant meandering bend in the river.
Many generations of angler have visited the bend over the years and I have been privileged to speak with some of them and share their memories. Several years ago I purchased a little green book Coarse Fishing in the Barnstaple Area’ By D.J. Rogers and G.W.Mosdell
A Taw roach caught by Tina Gaydon
The book tells of big roach tempted from the bend on bread flake and paste. Silver flanked beauties that frequently topped the magical two-pound barrier. Dave contacted me a few years ago after reading an article I had written on the lost roach of the Taw. We shared a drink in the Chichester Arms before walking to the river down a well-trodden path beside Venn stream that joins the River Taw on the bend. Dave showed me where the Cricketers’ once played on those long ago summer days back in the sixties. We stood upon the flood embankment and Dave pointed to the flat area of grass that had once been the cricket pitch, he told where the small pavilion had stood. In the still evening it was easy to visualize the scene of years ago. The cricketers in their whites: that quintessential English sound of summer; the rap of leather upon willow echoing through the balmy air.
.Yet if you closed your eyes that distinctive smell of warm estuary mud would be there still. The roach are perhaps long gone. I once fished there on a cold winter’s night ledgering with a pinch of bread-flake on a size 10 hook. A quiver tip illuminated with a luminous attachment that failed to twitch. The cold night was punctuated by the sounds of geese flying over.
Jack Anderton fished the bend in the fifties catching up to 100 mullet on a tide. He told me of fun carefree childhood days frolicking in the river. Jack lived within sight of the bend and often fished there early in the morning before breakfast. His mother would call to him from the bedroom when breakfast was cooked and Jack would amble back to enjoy a feast undoubtedly smelling of estuary mud. Jack also told me of escapades trapping eels that were abundant then.
Many roach over the magical 2lb mark were landed by Jack, which proved highly profitable as the famous wine makers Williams & Humbert offered a prize of a bottle of sherry for any roach topping this weight. One red-letter day fishing close to the Cricket pitch at Bishops Tawton using float-fished maggots he landed 39lb of roach including five over 2lb.
In the 1970’s Kevin Richmond was drawn to the bend in search of big eels. He wrote of this in the Journal of the local specimen group of how he landed a huge eel of 5lb 73/4oz.
Kevin Richmond
Since 1974 it has always been my ambition to land a five-pound eel. I came close to achieving this during the later part of 74 when I had a very large fish straighten a 1/0 Aberdeen at the net. Richard Dennis was there at the time and he will confirm the size of that fish.
During the years 1976 to 1978 I slowly improved my best eels; 4lb 1½oz (1976) 4lb 5¼oz (1977) and 4lb 7oz (1978). It was not until the 13th July 1979 that the fish came my way………
I decided to have an attempt fishing what is known as the cliff swim (due to the opposite bank from the fishing position being continually eaten away during periods of high water) as it is my belief that somewhere on the river is a point where the salinity content causes an interaction between estuarine and freshwater species enabling both to coexist together. I also believe that the growth rates would be much more greater in such an area due to the fish population getting the best of both worlds.
Upon arriving at the swim I ground baited with approximately 20 to 30 chopped trout, laid over an area of 10’ x 15’ to which an additive had been added. Rods were set up. Terminal rigs put on hooks sharpened. I cast out at 20:30 and had my first run at 21:45. Due to the very high tides the fishing at this stage was very difficult due to the very fast tidal flow. I did not land my first eel until 22:50 – it weighed 1lb 6oz. three more eels came up to midnight weighing 11oz, 6oz and 2lb 6oz and then sport died until 03:15 when I landed an eel of 1lb 9oz.
At 03:30 I had a run, which was no different to any of the others – until I hit it!!. The 1½lb test curve rod slammed over and line was rapidly taken. The fish kept pulling over to the cliff and virtually reached the other bank before I stopped it. Constant pressure slowly brought the fish across the river, until it was three or four yards away- where the fish woke up!
Suddenly the line went slack as the eel belted past me and went through my other two lines ‘tangling one. By now I was wondering just what the hell I had hooked?
Once again constant pressure brought the eel in close again and I managed to bring it within netting distance. My main worry at his stage was that the tangled line would in some way foul the bottom or the landing net. I gently eased the fish over the net- and the sodding thing slid over the net cord and belted off again!
As can be imagined this almost made me into a nervous wreck and it was with great relief that I finally netted the fish. I bit off the tangled line and carried the fish up the bank into the field just to be safe.
Even at this stage the eel looked big and when I shone the torch on it I realised that it was bloody enormous. With the weigh net included the eel went 5lb 15¾oz and as my net registered 8oz the eel was 5lb 7¾oz, a Devon best and over a pound better than my previous biggest eel. The eel was in superb condition measuring 40½” long and was almost a constant 9” girth throughout. The photographs were taken and the eel was slipped into my keep-net.
Early next morning two ‘noddies’ off salmon fishing strolled down and I got one of these guys to take a couple of shots of my fish and myself. It was then returned and swam away strongly.
Who said Friday 13th was unlucky?
It was not just eels that Kevin tempted on his dead baits for one night his bait was seized by fine double figure bass.
Much water has flowed around the bend as generations of fishers have ebbed away. As James and I walked from the river on a summer’s afternoon the church bells rang out and I wondered if earlier generations had paused to listen as they left the waters edge? There is something timeless about the bend and many other places we cast our lines.
The weather is set fair for whatever fish you seek. Bideford Angling Festival is underway and there should be a few bass, huss and smoothound off the coast and a few mullet from the estuary.
Boat anglers should be able to get out in search of tope and maybe even a shark. The water clarity should be improving after the storm of last week and the bigger tides every chance of a few late mackerel and bass on lures.
Carp anglers could well tempt a few fish off the surface during the heat of the day. The cool of the night will be best chance on bottom baits with carp anglers set up cozy in their state of the art all comforts of home bivvys.
For those with a sense of adventure eels could be well worth targetting with water temperatures still holding up well.
The game angler could target sea trout after dark on the Taw or Torridge with good numbers in both rivers. A surface lure can bring heart stopping moments as they erupt from the water in the still of the night.
