Trout Fishing for Beginners – with Directions for Dressing Flies for Trout and Grayling and useful Recipes
By Devonshire Fisherman ( Rev A Hughes)
The month of January is, unfortunately for the fisherman Artic in its conditions to tempt him to leave the fireside and pursue the gentle art: but February though it has well-earned itself the cognomen of “fill Dyke.” Is not always a wet month. There are many of its twenty eight days which possess a charm as fascinating to the piscator as the more genial breath of spring: when the fish are alert, and rise to the fly with exceptional readiness.
“About the year 1896 grayling were first introduced into the River Exe”. Five hundred yearlings.
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The River Haddeo joins the River Exe a couple of miles downstream of Dulverton and has a character all of its own. This is probably in partly due to the influence of Wimbleball reservoir that has impacted upon flows reducing flooding as the dam takes the sting out of any heavy rainfall events.
The Dulverton AA beat runs for about a mile upstream of the junction with the Exe and has a wealth of interesting features to explore. Grayling are a fish I have a fondness for part in due to the fact that they give an excuse to fish the river during the winter months when the landscape has a unique and beguiling atmosphere.
I waded beneath the old stone bridge that carries the A396 to enter the peaceful Haddeo valley. Working upstream the left of the River consists of woodland and pheasant pens used by the local shoot. High above on the hill are the remains of Bury Castle believed to have been built by William de Say before his death in 1144. A google search for William de say brings little reward so the history just adds a bit of mystery to the valley. To the right is farmland with sheep grazing and young lambs already in evidence.
The river is running clear and at a good height as I start to explore its pools and runs with a pair of heavy nymphs. Evidence of winter storms are all about with plenty of fallen trees and woody debris some of which will add to the rivers health and biodiversity even if it renders a few swims unfishable in the short term.
I fished this beat in January of 2024 over twelve months previous so I already have an inkling on the best areas for grayling. It is remarkable how the river often seems devoid of fish during the winter months. During the late spring and summer wild brown trout are abundant darting for cover in the clear waters and rising for flies. I catch a couple of out of season browns during the day but I often wonder where the majority retreat to in winter.
It’s an overcast misty day, cock pheasants, survivors of the shooting season strut arrogantly on the far bank eyeing me with suspicion. Snow drops add a welcome brightness to the gloomy day and foretell of the Spring days to come. A shallow pool is full of frogspawn a sight I have relished since a young boy fascinated with ponds and the life within.
It is a joy to work my way slowly upriver allowing the nymphs to trundle close to the river bed. I watch the bright tip of my nymphing line intently lifting the rod each time it pauses feeling for a fish. After half an hour or so in a small pool I lift the rod and feel that wonderful life throbbing at the end of the line. The 3 weight rod bends pleasingly as I glimpse the silver flanks of a grayling its crimson sail like dorsal fin adding momentum as it holds in the fast flow. A pleasing fish of perhaps 8oz is soon safely in the net and slipped carefully back into the river.
Catching that first fish of the day always brings a certain contentment for whilst it doesn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things it does bring satisfaction for when asked later about the day you can at least report upon a degree of success.
I fish on upriver and eventually come to a deep lie from which I extracted a grayling on my visit last year. To some extent success always encourages that little extra perseverance next time you fish. A fact that often leads to the belief that you have located a hotspot when you may perhaps have just had an extra drift or two because you believe. Anyway the line twitch’s just where I expect it to and the second grayling of the day is soon netted.
A few yards upriver there is a tempting deep looking pit where I prospect carefully. The line again pulls tight and there is another pleasing tussle with a lovely plump grayling of 12oz or more. Whilst these Devon grayling seldom reach the weights of their fellows in Dorset or Hampshire they can only be judged on the rivers they dwell in and on light tackle they offer superb and challenging sport.
Before starting to work my way back down river I pause to savour the scene. Country cottages across the valley woodsmoke drifting into the still cool air. An ancient oak tree stands beside the river its immense worn and weathered trunk testament to its age. It is fascinating to ponder for a moment or two on the history of this tree and what has transpired through its long life. Generations of anglers have fished this stream. Children from the village have undoubtedly caught trout here in days gone by drifting worms perhaps ignored and tolerated by the river keeper of the day. Poachers would undoubtedly have taken salmon from these waters during the late autumn and winter. Both types of poacher are seldom seen these days for children sadly seem to have lost the freedom and inclination to connect with rivers whilst the salmon are no longer there to poach in any number.
These observations only relate to the past fifty or so years. The old oak could be four hundred years or more old dating from before the Industrial revolution and witness to the many wars and tribulations of mankind. I guess the reassuring ever rolling stream and majestic oak bring a certain grounding to ones soul as we fish these pleasing rivers of life. In his new book due to be released this spring Robert MacFarlane askes the question. “ Is a River alive?” .
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Standing within these cool, enchanting waters the answer is surely yes and that its life is long, unlike our own lives in the words of the rock group Jethro Tull,
“Life’s a long song
But the tune ends too soon for us all”.I retrace my steps back down river as the afternoon light begins to slowly fade. Ancient trees towering in the misty landscape. I look forward to returning in a month or so when those crimson spotted brown trout will rise, spring flowers will decorate the river bank and birdsong will reverberate through this peaceful timeless valley.