20 Jul 2023

Fishing For Life – Volunteers Required

by Wayne Thomas | posted in: Article, Articles, Game Fishing, Sidebar | 0

Fishing For Life with Wistlandpound Fly Fishing Club at Hawkridge Reservoir in 2021

Fishing for Life, based at Wimbleball Lake, are looking for a few volunteers to help our ladies fishing. You would be under the supervision of a qualified coach who would be in overall charge of the session.

https://www.southwestfishingforlife.org.uk

We have several venues and are looking for help at Wimbleball, Kennick, Hawkridge and Blakewell.

Duties could be helping carry tackle, netting fish, recommending flies, advice on casting etc. Volunteers would have to be sympathetic to the ladies needs, their well being is paramount.

If anyone is interested please contact Patrick on [email protected].

14 Jul 2023

Estuaries of Opportunity

by Wayne Thomas | posted in: Article, Articles, At the Waters Edge, Sea Angling, Sidebar | 0

Combe Martin SAC member Jamie Steward tempted this fine specimen thin lipped grey mullet of 4lb 14oz whilst using baited spinner tactics.

The Taw and Torridge Estaury offer many miles of accessible angling where light tackle and varied tactics can be employed to tempt a surprisngly wide variety of species. Bass to double figures hunt the estuaries and can be found surprisingly high up on the confluence with freshwater as well as at the estuary mouth.

*On the lower estuary school bass can be seen in a feeding frenzy as they smash into whitebait behind this angler lure fishing on a flooding evening tide.*

Gilthead bream are a more recent visitor to the Taw estaury with specimens tempted as far up as Fremington Quay. All three species of grey mullet can be found throughout the estuary and can be caught using bait, fly fishing and baited spinners.

Where the estuary meets the sea smoothound to double figures can provide excting tussles as they grab baits often intended for bass or gilthead bream.

( Above) The vast estuary at Fremington Quay offers plenty of scope to explore and use different tactics.

( Above) Mullet will push up into the many creeks along the estuary offering a challenge that few anglers are prepared to accept.

The vast estuary with its many mudbanks, creeks and sandbanks offers a wealth of opportunities for anglers with the chance to glimpse a diverse variety of wildlife. The scene is ever changing as the tides ebb and flow beneath everchanging skies. As autumn approaches flounder enthusiasts will line the banks at popular venues. Codling can often provide a decent meal as the nights pull in during late autumn.

7 Jul 2023

ANOTHER PERFECT NORTH DEVON DAY

by Wayne Thomas | posted in: Article, Articles, At the Waters Edge, Sea Angling, Sidebar | 0

The North Devon Coast has many miles of very varied and spectacular coastline much of it well worth exploring so when James suggested a trip to check out a cove near Ilfracombe I was keen. Lee Bay is a secluded Wooded Valley that descends to a fascinating stretch of coastline intersected by the South West Coast path much of the land in the custodianship of the National Trust.

James had suggested a short trip to explore the coves with a fishing rod perhaps incorporating a swim. We arrived shortly after Low water and walked out along the beach following a fascinating pathway cut into the rocky foreshore.

The path leads to a secluded beach sheltered from the prevailing South Westerly. This was where James intended to take a swim. But before cooling off we ventured beyond the cove through a maze of gulley’s that lead to a rugged rocky foreshore that screamed bass.

We had a few casts but with the tide flooding time was limited and we headed back to the cove where James plunged into the clear waters to cool down.

I stepped out onto the rocks and cast a lure whilst savouring the unfamiliar topography.

I didn’t really expect to catch and joined James on the beach suggesting we head back to Ilfracombe and try for a mackerel as the tide flooded.

Ilfracombe was a contrast to the secret coves of Lee Bay with its bustling harbour and people all around. After catching up with the cricket score we took our lure rods to the rocks near the pier and cast shiny metals into the clear water.

The aqua blues and greens of the sea with white breaking waves against rocky foreshores were exhilarating. We spied vast shoals of sandeel shimmering and shoaling close in against the shoreline. Birds were working out in the tide a sign that mackerel or bass were hunting.

A burst of life upon the water caught my attention and I cast my lure into the general direction. After a couple of casts came that pleasing thump as a mackerel hit the lure. Over the next twenty minutes we added four more mackerel to the tally. Fresh from the sea we looked forward to them lightly grilled or pan fried for tomorrow’s breakfast or dinner.

I was delighted to share the shoreline with James seeing the sea as it should be with abundant fish and prey. A lively moving eco system that can be enjoyed if only we could learn to use it in a sustainable fashion taking only our fair share.

As the tide forced us to retreat again we strolled along the harbour to pick up delicious burgers and a Katsu box from Paul Lorrimore’s https://www.baysideburgerbar.co.uk/

It would have been nice to savour the food sat on a bench overlooking the harbour but Ilfracombe’s seagulls made us retreat to the safety of the car parked beneath Verity’s towering presence.

The end of another perfect day in North Devon.

7 Jul 2023

Richard Wilsons Fish Rise – Summer Reading: Hemingwhy?

by Wayne Thomas | posted in: Article, Articles, Game Fishing, Sidebar, Uncategorised | 0

I am delighted to be able to publish Richard Wilson’s regular articles on North Devon Angling News. This months is close to my own heart with angling books and authors on the agenda.

https://fishrise.substack.com/p/summer-reading-hemingwhy

In Praise of Negley Farson

It’s that time of year again – summertime, holidays, excitement! I can hardly contain my inner grouch. Everything is a Buster … bonk-, bunny-, block- and so on. Book lists proliferate, making it clear that a lot of people only read on a beach (or at Christmas).

I think beaches are for avoiding and Christmas is for grumbling. Reading, on the other hand, is one of life’s great pleasures and needs no encouragement. Just do it.

This summer my off-the-beach bugbear is Hemingway and can be summed up in a single word: Why?

For a growing number of people it takes 3 sentences to explain him: “He was selfish and egomaniacal, a faithless husband and a treacherous friend. He drank too much, he brawled and bragged too much, he was a thankless son and a negligent father. He was also a great writer,” Prof Angela O’Donnell. Or you can have it in one: Great writer, shame about the man.

In recent years Hemingway’s character and grand-standing private life have taken a battering. Now, amidst the wreckage of character assassination, just the mighty wordsmith is left standing: Hemingway the Great Writer.

Well, maybe. Back in the heyday of hard-living literary narcissists, Hemingway had rivals. Among them was Negley Farson, an all-American adventurer, iconoclast, much-loved author, arms dealer, star foreign correspondent, fly fisher, sailor and raging alcoholic who ended his days in oblivion (drunk in rural England).

When both men died in 1960/1, Hemingway ruled the roost. Not now. Online, Farson’s Going Fishing is out-selling Hemingway’s Big Two-Hearted River by 4:1. This is an unreliable snapshot taken as I write this, but it’s well deserved. And while students buy Hemingway because they must – he’s on the syllabus – people read Farson because they want to. They do it because Going Fishing is one of the finest fishing books ever written and because Farson’s non-fishing books, once best sellers, are also on a bounce.

Farson was a glorious, swaggering misfit. Born in 1890 and raised in New Jersey by his grandfather, a cantankerous Civil War general, he lived for writing, drinking, travelling and fishing. And then again.

He was a First World War pilot for the British and then headed to Russia for the Revolution as an arms dealer. He was a rock star among American foreign correspondents back when foreign correspondents were household names, interviewed Hitler and reported from Germany as a Nazi mob stormed the Reichstag and felled German democracy. He witnessed Ghandi’s arrest by the British, was there to see John Dillinger’s corpse and, in-between times, there were Franco, Mussolini and global travel by boat, donkey and on foot.

He modestly billed his 1942 ‘Going Fishing’, as “just the story of some rods and the places they take you to.” It arrived, as only a Farson book could, with a review by fishing writer and fighter pilot Hugh Falkus. This might seem routine, but Falkus was incarcerated in Oflag IV-C, better known as Colditz; the prisoner-of-war camp where the Nazis locked up Allied troublemakers. ‘Going Fishing’ got into Colditz.

Farson drank Hemingway under the table, partied with F Scott Fitzgerald and confessed “I would never have believed it if anyone had told me so; but even the sight of a nude girl at the piano was beginning to pall.” More Hemingway than Hemingway you might think, and you’d be right.

Yet Farson is cursed by Hemingway’s shadow. Even his biography was patronisingly titled “Almost Hemingway”. This was as undeserved as it was offensive and wrong; Farson was the real deal while Hemmingway was striking a pose.

Both men were headstrong and deeply flawed characters who learned their craft in newspaper journalism. Hemingway picked up his minimalist ‘Iceberg Theory’ of writing as a junior reporter at the Kansas City Star. The paper’s newsroom stylebook (a feature of newsrooms worldwide) laid out a modest set of rules which I’ll rehash briefly: Write stripped-down sentences using Anglo-Saxon words. Take care with adjectives because they can reveal more about the writer than the subject. For a modern take on this see the Economist Style Book, available from Amazon and good bookstores. These rules are timeless and are as true today as they were then.

It’s also a long and well-trodden path. Here’s another former journalist: “We shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender.” Only Churchill’s last scornful word is French. Read it out loud and Google the speech for a masterclass.

Churchill’s words are as fresh now as they were in the darkest hours of the early 1940s. Likewise, Farson’s writing still leaps effortlessly off the page with the direct, no-nonsense clarity of a celebrated newsman honed on the Chicago Daily News, then a world-leading newspaper orbiting high above the Kansas City Star.

Yet, in contrast to Farson and Churchill, Hemingway’s writing can sound pretentious (a French word, of course) to modern ears. For example, the grating and self-indulgent repetitions:

“The trunks of the trees went straight up or slanted toward each other. The trunks were straight and brown without branches. The branches were high above.”

The Big Two-Hearted River

For modern readers, Hemingway has lost his fizz. Much of what once seemed innovative is now tired, and those repetitions wouldn’t have passed the sub-editors’ desk in Kansas.

Then there’s the image: Hemingway’s projected mid-life persona was aspirational for the age he lived in. But, nowadays, strong storylines and tight prose amount to nothing set against all those gloating pictures. The great white hunter, the slaughtered Marlin and machine-gunned shark are seared into our collective psyche. He’s the journalist who claimed to have killed German prisoners of war. That would be murder. So a new generation of readers think he’s the braggart poster boy for toxic masculinity and misogyny. That some of his writing is still great doesn’t matter. A trashed image trumps everything and that this is self-inflicted makes it worse.

So, if you’ve never read Negley Farson, please do. For the many who have, including me, Going Fishing is the finest autobiographical fishy book in a crowded field. His friend, F Scott Fitzgerald, confessed that while he had relied on imagination for compelling stories, Negley could simply draw on life.

Farson is still a great writer with an indelible legacy. And he’s long overdue a return to the limelight.

So, to whoever writes his next biography, the correct title is “Better than Hemingway”.

“Farson lived each day as if it were a door that needed kicking in.“

Rex Bowman, co-author of “Almost Hemingway”, getting it right.

Why Hemingway? I don’t know – no good reason I can think of. But I can tell you why Farson: He’s a great writer who has passed the test of time.

For more of Richards wisdom click on the link below

https://fishrise.substack.com/p/summer-reading-hemingwhy

My own thoughts on books and authors.

Reading and writing are fascinating topics and I try to do a bit of both. Books are wonderful and good ones do indeed stand the test of time remaining in print and relevant for decades or even centuries. The rapid expansion of the internet and digital produce caused concern that the book in its hardback or paperback form had had its day. Fortunately, the book in its printed form is going strong and looking at the shelves in Tesco and Waterstones is testament to the longevity of the books and readers preference for something tangible and tactile.

When I write I try to entertain, inform and record memories or moments in time. Angling authors abound and I have my favourites and these are perhaps those who manage to capture the essence of angling in prose that flows easily from the page. Choosing favourites is almost impossible but Chris Yates, H.T. Sheringham and BB have to be close to the top of my own list. Richard Wilson touches upon the characters and what type of people they were. To some extent this is determined by their place in society. Hemingway, Farson, Zane Grey, Hugh Falkus and Mitchell Hedges are all author’s that I would guess were rather arrogant larger than life chaps who liked a beer or two and lived fast and loose. The typical swashbuckling movie idol of the time? Chris Yates, BB and H.T. Sheringham are writers of a more genteel and idyllic prose who paint a different picture with their pen. To link waters with the psychological profile of the author is perhaps a little deep but could however make for a fascinating read.

Wayne Thomas

6 Jul 2023

A DAY AT THE WATERS EDGE

by Wayne Thomas | posted in: Article, Articles, At the Waters Edge, Coarse Fishing, Sidebar | 0

Sometimes it’s good to just go fishing for the day no agendas just a day with a friend catching up. I had not fished at Riverton Fishery for several years and when Gary suggested a day there I was keen to revisit. There are three lakes at the fishery a float fishing lake, Willow Lake and the specimen carp lake that is run on a syndicate basis.

http://www.rivertonlakesandholidaycottages.co.uk/angling.html

After a little deliberation we had decided upon Willow Lake a 2.5 Acre lake that was once a match fishing venue. The lake is now described as a pleasure lake with a wide variety of species stocked.

The lakes have matured well with large trees partially surrounding the venue and plenty of platforms spaced out from which to fish. The only downside to the venue is the constant traffic noise from the link road. Fortunately this is soon forgotten as the vista of lake sky and nature takes the focus away from the buzz of the modern world.

Gary and I set up in the first two swims on the lake and planned to alternate between float fishing and quiver tipping.

I started feeding micro pellet and corn just over a rod length out. I set up a waggler float setting the depth so that the bait rested on the lake bed with a small shot 3” inches from the bait. I was fishing with an old centre pin reel loaded with 4lb b.s line simply because it is fun to use. The float sat pleasingly to attention before sliding delightfully out of sight within seconds.

This set the pattern for the day with sweetcorn and small prawn segments bringing a variety of fish to the net from start to finish. Roach to 8oz, bream close to 4lb, carp on the float to 4lb and a few small perch.

I catapulted pellets to the island and when I fancied a rest I put out banded pellet on a hair rig. On my first cast the tip ripped around before I could place the rod in the rest. A hard fighting mirror of around 4lb was the result!

I alternated between float and tip from midday until we packed away at around 4.30pm. Both methods pleasing in their own right. The delightful and frequent disappearance of the float and the savage dragging round of the quiver tip as the carp hooked themselves.

We lost count of our catch but certainly had a great day’s sport and vowed to return for a rerun. It’s great to simply share a day at the water.

26 Jun 2023

Wimbleball – Days to be cherished

by Wayne Thomas | posted in: Article, Articles, At the Waters Edge, Game Fishing, Sidebar | 0

Wistlandpound Fly Fishing Club held their latest competition at Wimbleball Reservoir where Andre Muxworthy secured first place in difficult conditions boating a brace of rainbow trout totalling 4lb 10oz. I was runner up with a rainbow of 2lb 6oz. In the hot bright conditions, the trout had gone into the deep water close to the dam and were caught using fast sinking lines.

During the hot days of summer a boat is without doubt the best option on this large reservoir giving the opportunity to search various areas in search of the venues hard fighting rainbow trout and wild brown trout. In the heat of the day deep water is undoubtedly the best place to search with bright lures, blobs and boobys good tactics to employ. In the cooler evenings dry flies and nymphs can work well. Mid June saw some spectacular sport with trout feasting on beetles and mayfly. Whilst the long hot days of summer often prove difficult any day spent afloat on this beautiful water is to be cherished.

24 Jun 2023

MIDSUMMER IN PARADISE

by Wayne Thomas | posted in: Article, Articles, At the Waters Edge, Coarse Fishing, Sidebar | 0

Midsummer is a time to savour when the longest day arrives the English countryside is at its luxuriant peak. The foliage is lush and green with an abundance of wild flowers adding both colour and a perfumed aroma to the long days.

I joined my good friends for a third year targeting the catfish that lurk within Anglers Eldorado’s Cat and Carp Lake 2. With rumours of fish stocked to over eighty pounds anticipation of harsh battles with giant fish were on the agenda as we plotted our campaign over breakfast at team cat leader’s house. Swims were chosen with a mixture of choice and a random draw that pleased all present hopefully giving everyone the chance to put their baits into a known hotspot.

We pulled into the car park shortly after 8:00 and started to offload the ridiculous mountain of gear required for a forty eight hour session. Before going to our swims, we took a group picture for the memory files.

I don’t fish long sessions very often but always relish that anticipation of a couple of days beside the water. The Lakes at Anglers Eldorado day ticket complex have certainly matured since I first visited many years ago. I first looked into the complex whilst driving past when the lakes were still recently dug holes in the ground. At that time characterless waters that I had no desire to fish. The lakes have now matured with nature allowed to weave its magic with the lush green vegetation surrounding the lakes a home to abundant and varied wildlife.

We all set up in our swims and set about deciding where to cast our traps. Each of us having our own slightly different approach. The basic plan being to put out a bed of baits and pellets to bring catfish into the swim. Fishing boilies or bunches of worms on carp style bolt rigs.

It was around 11:00 by the time I had my baits in place close to features on the far bank surrounded by a liberal sprinkling of pellets and boilies. I made a fresh cup of coffee and sat back savouring the hot sun whilst contemplating the prospects of hooking a catfish.

I watched large dragonflies hover and dart above the calm waters, vivid blue damsel flies settled on the rods. A calm anticipation hung in the air as with traps set the wait began.

Set up an waiting, traps set.

The weather forecast predicted the chance of thunderstorms and heavy showers. And as the afternoon passed dark clouds gathered and rain fell. Later afternoon without warning my righthand rod was away the Delkim bleeping and the bobbin dropping back. I grabbed the rod and lifted into a solid feeling fish. After a good tussle I was pleased to secure a light lemony flanked catfish of just over 15lb. Blank avoided at least.

A short time later Tony fishing to my right was in action banking a good catfish of 32lb 7oz.

The session proved to be a successful one with Bruce topping the scoreboard at close of play banking half a dozen or more catfish to 41lb. Bruce’s tactics of heavy baiting contributing to his success along with pinpoint accuracy in putting his bait into hotspots.

John Hughes also enjoyed success with several cats to 27lb 12oz.

*Bruce with with one of several catfish caught during the session*

Sometimes you wnder if you want a run?

Another battle commences

Not the prettiest but they have a certain allure and pull very hard.

I banked two carp a mirror and a common both giving screaming runs on consecutive nights at around the same time in the fading light.

We had all caught a catfish by the end of the 48 hour session. Several powerful fish escaped along the way adding frustration and increasing the desire for a return trip.

In the longer term it is perhaps the bigger picture that soaks into life’s rich bank of memories. We fished from June 20^th until June 22^nd absorbed in the natural world.

Hot sunshine, dark clouds, thunder and rain followed by rainbows. The descent of darkness and that wonderful depth of colours and reflections as the day drifts away.

As the light faded from the long day I was still able to scribble a few notes in my notebook long after 10.00pm. At 11.00pm I lay back and listened to the sounds of the summer night. An unfamiliar evocative call drifted in the night air, an almost out of this world alien sound. I recognized it as the call of the nightjar, a bird that had featured on BBC’s Springwatch a few weeks ago.

In the early hours I left the bivvy to answer natures call and gazed up at a night sky of vivid twinkling stars. There was something deeply profound in the vastness of the universe.

Dawn came shortly after 4.00am each morning. The sun climbing slowly its rays cutting across the calm lake as mist lifted from the water. Intricate cobwebs glistening with morning dew and sweet songs of the dawn chorus filling the air. There is far more to this fishing lark than catching fish.

At the end of the session six friends brought together by a love of fishing said warm and cheery goodbyes vowing to do it all again next year if we are spared.

Vivid reflections as the stillness descends

*Cobwebs intricate patterns draped in dew*

*John and Bruce Lifelong friends share the moment –*

*John Hughes with the last fish of the trip – 27lb 12oz*

*A pleasing return – Until we meet* *again*

16 Jun 2023

SONG OF THE STREAMS – Michelle Werrett

by Wayne Thomas | posted in: Article, Articles, Game Fishing, Sidebar | 0

Song of theStreams

Michelle Werrett Photography by Robin Baker

Fishing and Conservation on Exmoor Streams

https://www.medlarpress.com/code/bookshop?store-page=Song-of-the-Streams-p547451092

*Vellacott’s Pool – East Lyn – Image Roger Baker*

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.

14 Jun 2023

BRIGHT STREAMS OF MEMORY

by Wayne Thomas | posted in: Article, Articles, At the Waters Edge, Game Fishing, Sidebar, Uncategorised | 0

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.

13 Jun 2023

WHERE ARE ALL THE CLIMATE DENIERS GOING?

by Wayne Thomas | posted in: Article, Articles, Game Fishing, Sidebar | 0

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.

Where Are All the Climate Deniers Going?

Or: How to save your river.

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 ….