If you follow my writings over several years you will have read my ramblings regarding the Barnstaple & District Angling Clubs hut situated beside the river at Newbridge. During what was perhaps the clubs heyday this fishing hut provided a welcome meeting point where members could meet and socialise as the river glided slowly past. The river then was thriving with salmon and sea trout and the club was also thriving in unison with the healthy river.
As catches dwindled a generation of anglers drifted away from the river and the hut sadly fell into disrepair. In recent seasons the club has seen an influx of enthusiasm and just maybe some sentiment from my writings stirred a will to resurrect the hut. I have spoken with the clubs river keeper Don Hearn on several occasions and was delighted to hear that the hut is to be restored.
It was very sad to recently receive news from Don via an email that vandals have visited the hut setting fire to the old bench and wood saved to help in the restructure.
Don asked if I could highlight the issue in the hope that police could be informed to help with their enquiries.
My initial reaction at hearing this was anger; but as I thought more it was sadness that replaced the anger. The world is sadly full of angry and intolerant people. Anger is contagious hitting out in anger and frustration just extends the problem. I have to ask what is gained by vandalising and inflicting damage to the dreams and efforts of others?
I look forward to enjoying the new club hut with fellow members. There are still a few salmon in the river and we can only hope that efforts to curb pollution and the many other issues that face the river eventually bring rewards. I hope to write a full article on the huts history and its resurrection in due course.
I was delighted to look in at Quay Sports on their first year anniversary celebrations. Tackle shops have always been a central part of the angling infrastructure where anglers meet to exchange stories and plot future forays. There is nothing better for the sport and the industry than this social interaction. In addition to coffee, cakes and raffles there were fun casting games to test the skill.
Mark Potter has a few fun casts
Chris Connoughton of Quay Sports commented
“Quay sports would like to thank everyone for their support since opening. The backing we have received is amazing and to see the community come together like it has, is a joy to be a part of.
To see everyone smiling and to help a cause such a Children’s hospice southwest makes us proud.
In the end with Mark potters kind generosity and Chris Connaughton’s organisation and planning combined withthe effort of all staff and customers kindness, we managed to raise £1000 for the cause which is phenomenal!
We should also give thanks to all of our suppliers for providing some great prizes.
We are so pleased to have built up such a great store and group of people who enjoy the shop and the friendship and camaraderie that comes with it, it’s been great to see local people, anglers and non anglers alike creating their own fishing hub, where we can all meet and talk and tell fisherman’s tales to each other, it’s been fantastic.
We hope that our head quarters will remain central to the local angling community for many years to come.
So we will keep building, keep listening, and keep helping people enjoy our wonderful pastime.
Many thanks to everyone who has supported us we can’t thank you all enough.”
Pleased to secure a mystery prize in the fun casting in aid of Childrens Hospice
The River Torridge starts its journey close to the Cornish border near Meddon just a short distance from the source of the Tamar and shares many characteristics with this river.
The Torridge meanders through the heart of rural Devon gathering water from various tributaries including the Okement that flows from high on Dartmoor close to the source of its sister river the Taw. The Torridge eventually merges with the Taw in the estuary at Instow.
Rivers have their own unique characters and as an angler it is a delight to tune into this and become immersed into the ever flowing waters. I fish the Torridge throughout the salmon and trout fishing season that commences on March 1st and concludes on September 30th.
Each phase of the season is to be savoured from the cold days of early spring when wild daffodils decorate the banks to those mellow days of early autumn.
Little Warham Fishery is middle river nestled in a tranquil valley close to the village of Beaford. I joined Fly Culture Editor in Chief Pete Tyjas the day after midsummers day to target the wild brown trout that thrive within this beautiful stretch of river
After a long dry spring the river was showing its bones an all too familiar sight in recent seasons that have blighted the salmon anglers hopes. There were undoubtedly a few salmon and sea trout residing in the deeper pools. These fish may well be stirred to take an anglers fly when welcome rain falls to wake them from their slumber.
They have worked hard in those five years nurturing the river banks and restoring the farmhouse to provide stunning self-catering holiday accommodation.
Despite visiting the fishery five years ago this was my first trip to the fishery armed with a rod and I was eager to share a day’s fishing with Pete. Pete had visited the river several years ago when it was still owned by Terri Norton Smith. After a quick chat with Anthony, I bundled my gear into Pete’s four wheel drive and we set off for the river. A long and bumpy farm track eventually took us to a shaded anglers car park within the woods above the river.
It was at this point that I realised that I had left my camera, polaroids and hat on the front seat of my car back at the farm house. Fortunately, Pete had a spare hat and my phone would be adequate as back up to the camera.
We gathered our tackles and descended down the steep steps to the fishing hut depositing our lunch boxes and water. We placed our rods upon the rack beneath the hut and climbed the rustic steps. The veranda of the hut has a couple of seats on which to rest and admire the splendid view.
The inner confines are as a fishing hut should be retaining a timeless feel that has been shared by many generations of anglers. Above the fireplace is an etching of a salmon on a plank of wood. Testament to a salmon of 33lb, part of a catch of six salmon totalling 107lb made in April close to 100 years ago.
Pete and I chatted about the Torridge its history and challenges faced by the river and its salmon. Some of this chat may well be broadcast via the popular Fly Culture Pod cast.
The Torridge has inspired several authors over the years most famous of these is undoubtedly Henry Williamson, his books ‘Tarka the Otter’, ‘Salar the Salmon’ and ‘A Clear Water Stream’ weaving a rich tapestry of descriptive prose. Lemon Greys classic fishing book ‘Torridge Fishery’ tells of the fishing above Little Warham and is a worthy book for any salmon angler’s library. Charles Inniss’s book ‘Torridge Reflections” published in 2012 is a delight to read reflecting on Charles years on the river at the Half Moon Inn. The poet Laurette Ted Hughes was also inspired by the Torridge and his work is celebrated in ‘The Catch’ by Mark Wormald, published in 2022.
Pete and I were both keen to head for the river and set off to fish the upper beat above the hut on Anthony’s advice. We both set up with a duo set up a large bushy dry fly beneath which was suspended a small nymph pattern.
The river was showing its bones
The Torridge is a peaceful river running much of its length far from roads or rail unlike the Taw that is flanked throughout most of its length by both. The summer valley was filled with birdsong as we approached carefully navigating through the lush green summer foliage. It had rained the previous night and the river had we were told risen by less than two inches. There was perhaps a slight tinge of colour but it was difficult to tell as the Torridge is never crystal clear like its sister river the Taw. We were hopeful that this slight influx of fresh would stir the trout to feed but the fish do not always read the script.
With the river running so low we both agreed that the best areas to target would be the faster running riffles and runs where oxygen levels would be enhanced. This faster water also gives discerning trout less time to inspect our offerings.
A flash of electric blue flashed past above the twinkling water. The sight of a kingfisher however fleeting always lifts the spirits an image that cannot be adequately painted with words. Damsel flies were also abundant hovering above the river and alighting on the riverside cow parsley its delicate white flowers punctuating the vivid greenery of mid-summer.
The sun was beating down from a cloud free blue sky and we looked for shady lies to cast our flies. Pete wandered further upriver; I extended a line but was irritated to find I had missed out a rod ring when threading the line. A few minutes or two of retackling resolved the issue and at last I managed to put out a line on the water.
The buoyant bushy dry fly bobbed down on the surface a tiny nymph suspended beneath. I focussed intently expecting the fly to disappear at any second as a trout seized the nymph below. I worked slowly upriver searching the water without early success.
I snagged a high tussock of grass on the back cast just as the fishery owner Anthony appeared to witness my incompetence. Anthony was accompanied by his four year old son, Brook was fascinated by the mysteries of the water’s edge. I helped him to turn stones in the search for life whilst Pete chatted with Anthony about their first five years at Little Warham.
After this short interlude our quest continued. My fishing rhythm eventually arrived after a slow start. Casting a 3-weight and tiny flies was a stark contrast to the large pike flies I had been casting two days before on the vast Chew Valley Lake.
Casting into the head of a shallow run the dry fly disappeared and I lifted the rod to feel the thrilling pulse of life on the line. In a second or two it was gone a small trout that had brought a welcome slice of optimism.
The morning drifted by as we waded the river searching and reading the water as we savoured the summer river.
By midday we had covered the upper beat and decided to return to the fishing hut for a snack and a cool drink. As we walked the river bank we talked of fishing, of cricket and of people we knew.
Back at the hut it was good to take a break savouring the summer views from the open porch. The Torridge flows beneath the fishing hut through a long deep pool where it is easy to imagine salmon and sea trout resting. On the opposite bank a tall coniferous forest towered high whilst at the rivers edge mighty oaks dominate casting welcome shade across the pools. We discussed the trout’s apparent reluctance to feed reminiscing on the many excuse’s anglers concoct when the fish refuse to play the game. A bright hot summers day with a North East wind was always going to be a challenge.
A summers day work
The afternoon would surely bring its rewards. We picked up our rods and strolled down towards the bottom of the beat. A long shady run beneath a wooded bank took our fancy and whilst Pete headed towards the tail I started midway flicking out the trusty duo.
The fly disappeared, I lifted the rod and the light rod flexed in my hands. The small wild brown leapt from the river and battled gamely for a few moments. The barbless hook slipped from its jaws and I admired its beauty for a moment before allowing it to swim back from whence it had come.
The river tumbled from pool to pool cascading over rocky ridges into deeper pits. Long shallow riffles and slowly swirling eddies. The steep wooded banks and dense vegetation creating a rich habitat. Throughout the day we continued to catch welcome glimpses of kingfishers as they streaked past.
The hot sun beat relentlessly into the valley. Climbing up and down the banks and pushing through high vegetation perspiration dripping from my forehead reminded me of a jungle movie scene. With a throbbing head I recognised the early symptoms of heat stroke and set off for the fishing hut and a cool drink of water.
Always pause to admire the colours lights and shades of the day
I found Pete fishing beneath the overhanging tree canopy where he had spied rising fish. I wished him well and went on my way to the hut.
After a cool drink I wandered back to find Pete stood mid river. Izaak Walton ended his classic book the ‘Compleat Angler’ with the phrase “Study to be Quiet” a phrase that is said to embody the philosophy of tranquillity and solace in angling. It was a pleasure to watch Pete’s skill at casting a delicate line across the water emersed within a kaleidoscope of reflections.
Emersed within a kaleidoscope of reflections.
Anthony who had been cutting the grass appeared at my side and we both watched as Pete gave a commentary on the fish he had spied rising quietly under the shady bank. He had stood quietly observing and merging into the river scene. Numerous dry flies had been tried without success. After each offer to the trout, he had rested the water totally focussed upon deception. A dimple upon the surface and a tell tale ring. Pete’s line glided out the fly alighting on calm waters to drift over the fading rings. A swirl, a curse. Twice more the fish was tempted and escaped the hook! Pete reluctantly wound the line onto his reel and slowly waded towards us. Once again the water was broken by the rising fish. Pete caught the movement in the corner of his eye and stopped. Carefully he worked out the line and took careful aim dropping the dry fly precisely. The delightful moment of deception was followed by a flurry of spray. The rod pulsed and bended as the fish dashed for freedom.
It was soon safely in the net a beautiful wild brown trout with red and black speckled flanks of olive and bronze. At around a pound it was a wonderful prize earned by slowing down, observing and applying a large degree of patience and stealth.
As we walked back to the car I spied a rising fish but with throbbing head and creeping nausea I knew that the fish would have to wait for another day.
I have been visiting Chew Valley Lake on a fairly regular basis since it opened to pike angling on a limited basis in October 2001. Since those early days the lake has built on its reputation for producing huge pike and I have long dreamt of catching one of these huge fish.
Whilst I have tempted several twenty pound plus pike on lures and dead-baits during the annual pike trials my most successful days have come whilst fishing with the fly. My best pike being a fish of 27lb 12oz caught on a fly in April 2008.
27lb 12oz pike from April 2008
Spring time from late March through until late June and September are the months I try to visit with the fly rod. During the warmer months of summer pike are potentially susceptible to stress with water temperatures high and weed growth extensive.
On each visit to this vast 1200 acre lake there is the knowledge that the pike of a life time could be just a cast away. The desire to catch the elusive thirty pound pike has resulted in many years of heartbreak for dedicated specimen hunters who visit the lake year after year enduring many blank trips and days when just jacks seize the bait, lure or fly.
I have always enjoyed fishing the lake and whilst I always hoped to catch the monster I generally just enjoyed the fishing. The lake has an abundance of wildlife and the vast sheet of water always provides a spectacular back drop throughout the seasons.
On June 18th, 2022 my luck was to change when I fished the lake with my good friend Steve Dawe. As is often the case when catching a big fish there was a big slice of luck involved with circumstances combining to bring about success. Several big pike had already been landed earlier in the season. Bruce Elston a long time fishing companion boating a huge pike of 33lb 13oz in May. Steve and I booked a boat for June 14th and were looking forward to a day on the lake despite the forecast of hot sunny weather. The afternoon before I received a call from Bristol Water to say that due to staff shortages they would have to cancel all of the boats. They offered us alternative dates of the following Friday or Saturday. The only day that both Steve and I could make was the Saturday so on Saturday morning I met Steve at the fishing Lodge for 8:00am.
We steamed out onto a flat calm lake beneath a dark and cloudy sky. This was perhaps our first stroke of luck. The previous day had been the hottest day of the year so far with temperatures into the high twenties. The cancelled day on Tuesday had also been hot and sunny. These conditions seemed far more conducive to the search for pike.
As we steamed out we talked of the Chew Valley giants and of the lake’s history and the expectation that always lingers. There is much talk of the pressure of fishing for these pike yet when you steam out you realise that this is a vast body of water and locating pike is not always guaranteed. Add to this that the pike needs to be feeding and you soon appreciate that finding a big pike is like finding the proverbial needle in a haystack.
Basing location on previous experience and instinct we headed for a favoured area and commenced a drift. At first there wasn’t a breath of wind to move the boat. We knew that this was to be short lived as the forecast gave a strengthening northwest wind.
As predicted within half an hour the wind picked up and the drogue was employed to slow the drift. An hour into the trip and we had not had a pull or seen a follow. After five minutes of starting a drift I observed a boat that I thought we would drift closer to than we would like. This was perhaps the key stroke of luck. I pulled in the drogue and motored fifty yards closer to the shore. As we set off on a new drift I noted that the boat we had moved to avoid had motored elsewhere!
We need not have moved but this new drift line proved to be fruitful beyond our wildest dreams. A few minutes into the drift the line was jerked tight as something big hit my fly. There was nothing I could do initially as what was undoubtedly a big fish surged away stripping line from the reel. I tend to play fish hard and piled on pressure as soon as I could. The fish circled the boat fortunately on a long enough line to miss the drogue that hung behind the drifting boat. The fish made repeated powerful runs against maximum rod pressure. We both knew that this was a big fish but were still shocked when we eventually glimpsed the magnificent creature in the water.
At this moment the wire trace seems worryingly thin. This is the fish of dreams; how good is the hook hold? Fear and anxiety play on the mind for these vital final moments of drama. Steve sank the net beside the boat and I coaxed the pike closer until it was over the net. Steve lifted and I gave a shout of triumph; YES !!!!
A warm shake of hands in celebration of shared success.
I held the net as Steve prepared the unhooking mat dousing it in cold water. The scales were readied and weigh sling set up. Both cameras were switched on in readiness. I lifted the pike from the water shocked at its weight. I slipped the barbless 6/0 from its jaws and lifted the fish from the net. I rested the huge fish onto the weigh sling and allowed Steve to witness the weight. The reading fluctuated between 42lb and 43lb so subtracting 4lb for the weigh sling the weight of the pike was a minimum of 38lb.
38lb PikeThe successful fly at the end of the day with fourteen pike wear and tear38lb pike
I cradled the fish briefly for a couple of photos then held the fish in the water for a few moments. I released the fish when I felt it was ready and watched as it sank slowly before swimming strongly away coming to the surface just in front of the boat to disappear with a defiant swish of its tail.
Such moments in a fishing life always seem slightly surreal. To catch early in the day is perfect as for the remainder of the day you can just bask in the reflection of success. There is of course the knowledge that the conditions are good and that just maybe another big pike will succumb.
We had several more drifts in the same area catching numerous jacks of between 3lb and 4lbs. Even these small pike give a surprisingly good account on fly tackle.
We tried drifts around various areas of the lake finding a few jacks at each location often at the edge of deeper water where weed growth provided some cover.
It was good to note large numbers of swifts swooping over the water feasting upon the prolific fly life that helps make this a superb trout water.
Pike 16lb 5oz
We returned to the area that had produced the big pike and after a couple of drifts I was pleased to add a 16lb 5oz pike to the days tally. This was followed by Steve hooking into a fish that powered away stripping line form the reel at such an alarming rate that Steve feared he would run out of line. I pulled in the drogue just in case we had to follow and was relieved to see Steve’s backing knot approaching the rod tip. After several more powerful runs a large pike eventually appeared beside the boat was soon safely within the waiting net. At 20lb 5oz it was a best on the fly for Steve and cemented a highly successful day.
Steve with is 20lb 5oz pike
We fished on as dark clouds gathered adding a few more jacks and a low double to the total. The tally when we packed up shortly after 6:00pm was 23 pike. A fine day’s fishing by any standard. We will be back in the autumn once again to continue chasing dreams and perhaps catching them.
Exmoor looked splendid as I took the winding road to Wimbleball Lake, hills and woods lush and green illuminated by the morning sun.
It was a delight to load the boat, start the motor and head out for a day on the lake in search of the lake’s renowned trout. I generally fish the boat with a partner but on this trip arranged at the last minute I was fishing solo.
Each day’s fishing is a blank canvas and the picture will be painted by choices made during the day. Where to fish, tactics to employ all influenced by weather, experience and of course the often unpredictable trout. Playing this fascinating game of chess with nature has been a healthy addiction throughout my life.
I headed across to Cow Moor Bay and drifted the boat, casting a team of flies into the margin. The occasional fish was rising and I was hopeful that they would start to rise throughout the day as beetles were blown onto the water. Recent reports told of some impressive catches of wild browns and rainbows to dry fly tactics with foam beetle patterns working well.
After half an hour without a pull I decided to head for the wooded Upton Arm one of my favourite areas of the lake. I chugged along in my boat admiring the lush green woodland. Flocks of Canada geese eyed me from the shore line as I passed. Old tree stumps showed high and dry exposed like skeletons as the water recedes following yet another long dry spring.
The Upton Arm its banks shrouded in dense woodland has a unique character of its own. The occasional trout were taking beetles close into the margin and I cut the motor allowing the boat to drift in the gentle breeze. A wild brown of perhaps 12oz seized the dry beetle pattern and gave a spirited account on the 5/wt rod and floating line. I admired the fish in the clear water slipping out the barbless hook without lifting the fish from its environment. These are truly stunning looking wild fish with vivid spotted flanks.
Another brown of close to a pound followed taking a coch-y-bonddu wet fly on a dropper. The occasional larger rainbow were slurping down dries but seemed hard to tempt.
By now there was little breeze and white fluffy clouds were drifting across the brilliant blue summer sky. The haunting call of a cuckoo drifted across the lake. I glimpsed fish cruising in the crystal clear water and savoured the moments pouring a sweet coffee from the flask and enjoyed a snack. Its moments like these that endure in the memory on those cold winter days and when life is on one of its down turns.
A rainbow of perhaps two pounds sucked down my foam beetle and gave a good account on the light outfit.
Whilst the occasional fish continued to rise it was no frantic hatch and I felt that the majority of fish were not rising. Changing tactics slightly I switched to my 7/ wt rod and a team of flies with a slow sinking booby on the point with a coch-y-bonddu wet fly on the dropper. A good fish was cruising a few feet off the margin and I watched intently as it approached my flies. The line twitched and I pulled tight to feel that pleasing resistance and a flash of flank as the fish reacted in the clear water. The fish took off for deep water testing the tackle, powered by its full tail. The fish would probably have pushed the scales towards 4lb. I captured an image of the fish in the net before releasing it. With warming water and hard fighting fish it is vital to net the fish quickly and release with only minimal time out of the water. Fishing alone I chose to take no self-portraits with the fish.
On a hunch I changed the tip fly to a bright sunrise blob. I cast this out and allowed it to sink slowly before beginning a slow retrieve. I could see the bright blob in the clear water and watched as a rainbow cruised towards it. I gave a twitch to induce interest and observed the trout’s mouth open and engulf the blob. I stripped the line tight and connected relishing the joy of sight fishing. During the next half an hour two more rainbows succumbed to the same tactics each one hooked by watching the fish take the fly. If I had waited for the line to twitch or feel a pull I would not have caught. A good pair of polaroid’s being an invaluable tool on this occasion.
The vivid bright sunrise blob seems so out of place and is far removed from any natural food the fish might find. What triggers the response from the trout? Is it curiosity? It’s not aggression as I was not retrieving fast so I can only assume they think its food and need to sample it. There are certainly no hatches of sunrise blob flies to imitate! These nuances make this whole thing so fascinating. Another question could be why did I choose to tie on a bright gaudy fly? To this I would answer that it was a hunch based on previous experience and the old mantra of the salmon angler to use bright flies on bright days.
Whilst there were a few fish around there is always the nagging thought that there will be more elsewhere and by mid-afternoon this lead me to leave the sheltered waters of the Upton arm and head for a breezy Cow Moor.
An hour drifting around Cow Moor brought no action and there were few fish rising so I decided to head for Bessoms.
The open expanse of Bessom’s and Rugg’s was a total contrast to the intimate wooded Upton Arm. A couple of youngsters were basking in the sun with loud dance music blasting across the lake. I started a drift and after five minutes felt a savage tug as a rainbow of close to four pounds hit the sunrise blob. This was to be the last fish of the day and gave a superb account as most of these Wimbleball rainbows do.
I fished on until around half past six having a few more casts in Cow Moor before mooring the boat and heading for home. It had been a great day with six rainbows between 2lb and 4b with a couple of stunning wild browns. Whilst the fishing is not always easy its always rewarding and on a summer day Wimbleballs vistas of moorland, woodland and pasture are truly stunning.
I enjoyed a short evening session over low water recently that prompted me to ask myself a question? I started the session fishing a shallow boulder strewn shoreline bumping a megabass soft plastic lure through the shallow water. After half an hour searching familair ground as the tide pushed in I had nothing to show for my efforts. As is often the case I followed my instinct and moved to some deeper water thinking that the bass were too wary to come in close as it was very calm and clear.
After scrambling a hundred yards over boulders I cast out the same lure and on the first retrieve had a fish hit the lure close in without hooking up. A couple more casts resulted in nothing. I changed over to a an IMA hard plastic lure and cast this out working it back briskly. After two or three casts I was jolted into focus as a fish hit the lure hard. After a short spirited tussle I released a bass of a couple of pounds.
A few more casts brought no response so again I changed lures. A black Fillish minnow was sent out and after two casts another bass of simular size. These were the only two fish caught but I ponder as to what difference the change of lure made. On some sessions I frequently change lures for various reasons. Depth of water, water clarity, suspended weed and matching what I think the bass are feeding on.
The question I asked myself is did changing the lure result in me catching the second bass or would I have caught it anyway? There are so many variations that can make the difference in a each fishing trip and much of what I do is driven by instinct. The size, colour and design of lures undoubtedly makes a diffrence but how much and how many lures does an angler need? With limited time to experiment I only carry a small selection of lures that I have confidence in introducing the occasional new pattern when I am tempted at the tackle shop. I suspect that lures catch more anglers than fish. If you asked ten anglers their top ten lures you would undoubtedly get ten different lists?
Over the past couple of years, I have been trying to catch grey mullet on the fly without success. On my latest excursion I joined fellow Combe Martin SAC member and mullet enthusiast John Shapland.
John took me to a mark in the Taw estuary where he has enjoyed some success recently using traditional mullet tactics. John had noted that the mullet were feasting on small sand shrimps and had corresponded with the fly fishing for mullet maestro Colin McCloud whose excellent book “Mullet On The Fly” has inspired many fluff chucker’s to target the wily mullet. With a bright blue sky and not a breath of wind it was a joy to be at the waters edge.
John and I arrived just as the tide started to push. We set up our tackles and watched the water for signs of mullet. As the tide gained momentum swirls on the surface showed the presence of good sized fish. I put out a line with two shrimp imitations and allowed it to drift with the current giving the occasional twitch to impart life.
The numbers of fish increased and my optimism grew as these fish were undoubtedly feeding. I missed a couple of pulls that raised expectation further. Suddenly the line zipped tight and I connected. The rod hooped over and I glimpsed a silver flank. Disappointingly It was a bass of around 1lb that saved a blank and was added to later in the session with a second bass slightly smaller.
The mullet were undoubtedly feeding on the sand shrimps and could be seen slurping them off the surface like nymphing trout. I feel I had a few near misses with the frustrating grey ghosts. I will be back again. It was good to fish with John as he fished traditional bread bait tactics and also blanked on the mullet. If I had fished alone with the fly I would probably have though I would catch if I had been using bait.
Catching fish on the fly can be seen as an elitist tactic it can also be an extremely effective method in its own right adding another string to the angler’s repertoire.
I have been privileged to have been invited to fish the new carp lake at Bulldog Fishery on three occasions in the past twelve months and it has been a pleasure to see it develop into a beautiful venue.
On my first visit in April 2021 the banks were still a little bare, with no completed swims and vegetation still not yet flourishing. Despite the cool early spring weather, I was pleased to spot a couple of dark shapes cruising in the clear water and relished the opportunity to try and tempt these fish that had not yet endured much angling pressure.
Swallows and Martins were swooping above the water in profusion and I was thrilled to once again see these harbingers of summer after a bleak winter of COVID lockdowns.
On this first trip I was delighted to catch a 27lb 8oz mirror carp and a very colourful 16lb koi.
I returned again in August to find most of the swims now completed and lakeside rushes starting to grow to give the lake a more natural feel. As always I was given a warm welcome by father and son team Nigel and Tom Early. On this occasion I was to fish a twenty four hour session.
The session got off to an encouraging start with a mirror carp of 8lb tearing off as I erected my bivvy. A couple of hours later a common of 12lb 3oz graced the net.
As the sun dipped below the horizon I relished the reflections in the lake and the peace and quiet of this lush wooded valley. I lost a good fish in the fading light when the hook pulled and hooked two more big fish as darkness fell.
The night was still and quiet with the occasional splosh as big fish rolled sending ripples out across the lake.
As daylight broke a couple of bleeps resulted in a bream of 6lb 6oz.
At half past seven as the early morning sun shone through illuminating the lake. Bullrushes reflected in the water, early morning mist slowly rising from the calm waters. The kettle started to whistle and then a screaming bite alarm. Minutes later I was cradling a pristine 16lb mirror carp in the morning light.
Skeins of geese flew above silhouetted against a brilliant blue sky. A heron glided up the valley its wings pulsing rhythmically like a prehistoric bird. I watched all of this and noted in my diary. “This sure beats working”.
Late May 2022, Nigel and Tom invited me to a carp fishing social weekend event and I was delighted to attend for a few hours on the Saturday afternoon into evening. On arrival at the lake, I was surprised to hear that just one carp had been tempted.
This was to change over the coming hours however as the lake came to life in dramatic fashion. I settled into the deep corner of the lake where Chris Connaughton had already got a few fish interested in floaters. I put a bait in the margin to my right and catapulted out a steady stream of floaters. Eventually the occasional fish could be seen slurping down baits and after an hour or so I put out a floater set up.
After a few close calls the water eventually erupted as a carp hooked itself against the heavy controller. After a spirited tussle a mirror carp of 18lb was safely netted. At the same time on the opposite bank, I noted another carp being netted by Thomas Rushby
Food was due just after 7.00pm so with other things to attend to that evening I packed away my gear and loaded it into the car. I returned to the lake to chat with fellow anglers.
The sound of a bite alarm rang out and Thomas Rushby lifted his rod to commence battle with what appeared to be a good sized fish. We gathered around to watch the tussle and offer encouragement. After a few tense moments the fish a handsome common carp was safely in the net and a weight of 27lb 2oz was recorded. After a few images were captured the carp was lowered back into the lake to swim back into the calm waters.
I took the opportunity to learn a bit more about the complexities of modern carp fishing. The intricacies of zyg-rigs and application of washing lines to tempt the wily carp.
During the next hour Chris Connaughton banked a brace of fine mirror carp. Nigel delivered a delicious tray of roast pork and potatoes. That were washed down with a few cool drinks as tales of fishing were swapped.
I left the lake as the sun set wandering what more secrets would be unlocked during the next twelve hours or so.
These are a few additional images kindly provided by Chris Connaughton.
Bulldog Carp Lakes are due to open sometime this year and will undoubtedly offer another excellent venue for North Devon’s carp angling fraternity.
It was good to be there; walking into the river surrounded by the vibrancy of late Spring. Lush green growth lined the river bank and birds flitted to and fro disappearing into the dense foliage to feed their broods. I stood in the river and put a line across the flow allowing it to drift before imparting a bit of life to the fly with a few pulls on the line. The river was very low but a few spells of light rain had perhaps put a slight tinge of colour into the water.
I was delighted to note large numbers of swifts swooping in the evening sky occasionally swooping low over the water emitting their characteristic screeching cry. Sand martins too in profusion with an abundance of insect life propelling a feeding frenzy.
After fishing the first run I moved on down and noticed a fish bow waving at the tail of a pool. Sea trout or shad I wasn’t sure; it wasn’t a mullet that can often be glimpsed here on the club water well above the tide.
I waded out into the next run and was thrilled to see a salmon leap from the water opposite. This brought about a feeling of expectation that was fuelled further as two more salmon leapt from the river further down the run. The river felt alive and for a the next half an hour I believed it could happen.
Then a cool wind picked up blowing upriver making casting more difficult. The river seemed to switch off and my confidence ebbed away. My phone rang; “Are you heading home its getting dark”.
I walked back to the car across the the field as drizzle began to fall. It had been good to be at the river and to see a salmon leap was reward enough for it renewed the belief and showed that silver prizes still await.
It is always good when that first bass of the season hits the lure! I have not invested much time in lure fishing for bass so far this year as I have been focussing on other species. My first session after bass a couple of weeks ago was thwarted by dense weed that made fishing the shallow ground I enjoy fishing virtually impossible. The latest session saw clear water and a gentle wave hitting the shoreline. I love this visual fishing in very shallow boulder strewn water bringing a soft plastic through very shallow water. The bass will move in with water just covering their backs and when they hit the lure there is a flurry of spray as the fish fight hard on a tight line clearly visible as they struggle before being brought to the shoreline.
If you follow my writings over several years you will have read my ramblings regarding the Barnstaple & District Angling Clubs hut situated beside the river at Newbridge. During what was perhaps the clubs heyday this fishing hut provided a welcome meeting point where members could meet and socialise as the river glided slowly past. The river then was thriving with salmon and sea trout and the club was also thriving in unison with the healthy river.
