28 Feb 2022

South Molton Anglers – Enjoy the tonic of Bratton Water

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I joined South Molton Angling Club at Bratton Water to enjoy a Sunday morning beneath a cloud free sky. As my good friend Matt Kingdon commented it was good to feel the warm sunshine on the face as birds sang in the woods as if to welcome the forthcoming spring. As the gloomy news continues to prevail the tranquil waters we fish seem evermore important for our ongoing mental health. Casting a line and chatting with fellow anglers as nature goes on, a vital tonic.

Visiting this picturesque venue I must reflect upon the recent death of fishery owner Mike Williams who nurtured the fishery over many seasons. Mike always gave a cheery welcome even during recent years as ill health took its toll. Mike supported the local community on numerous occasions  hosting events for local youth clubs and beaver groups during summer evenings. I remember these events fondly when our son James attended. It was delightful to assist as a dozen or more young anglers attempted to cast a fly across the water with many delighting in the catching of their first trout. Whilst many may not have become lifelong anglers they will have gained an appreciation for this connection with nature. I also remember an evening spent with Bratton Fleming Cricket Club when we enjoyed a few beers and an evening BBQ. These special times were made possible by Mike and Jan. 

The lakes stocks had recently been boosted with a stocking of quality brown trout and several of these had already been landed when I arrived. The bright sun and crystal clear water were perhaps not ideal for fishing but I had every confidence that success would come. I set up with a 10ft 5 weight rod with a PTN on the point and  a cormorant on the dropper. After 20 minutes without a take I made a move to the next peg. First cast and the cormorant was seized by a stunning looking brown trout of close to 2lb. Success breeds confidence that was emboldened when another trout followed my flies to the surface before turning away at the last moment.

I fished persistently putting out a long line and allowing the flies to sink before commencing a slow retrieve. I completed my three fish bag after two hours fishing. All three fish were pristine brown trout of over 2lb.

With my bag complete I strolled over to chat with Matt Kingdon who had already banked one fine brown. Matt was fishing a team of small nymphs slowly inching them back through the clear calm water. As we chatted I watched the line tip carefully sharing in the anticipation. A couple of fish were missed and several fish broke the surface raising expectation.

I glimpsed the flash of a golden flank beneath the surface and as I uttered a warning to Matt he tightened into the fish his rod hooping over in success. The fish writhed on the line and we were surprised to see that Matt had hooked into two browns. The odds of landing both were slim but skill and perhaps a little luck resulted in a fine brace of trout safely in the net.

I was delighted to catch the result on camera before heading home for dinner with firm plans of future fishing forays during the coming months.

Club secretary Roger Bray later reported that all members had succeeded in catching their three fish bag the best a pleasing brown trout of 2lb 13oz.

“The event today was a great success with eight members attending. An encouraging start to 2022. 

We should thank Jan Williams for allowing the event to take place and to provide a well-stocked brown trout lake in weed-free conditions.”

We enjoyed some fine weather with an occasional breeze with everyone bagging up quite early with 2lb 13ozs the benchmark for the year, although it took the secretary until 2.30 pm to do so.

Bratton Water remains Open with some stunning brown trout providing exciting and rewarding fishing.

 

 

24 Feb 2022

SEARCHING MURKY WATERS

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I was keen to get out on the shoreline following the big stir up from Storm Eunice and Franklin so I arranged a trip to a local rock mark with my good friend Rob Scoines. This would probably be one of my last forays in search of winter species as my attention tends to turn towards freshwater goals as Spring unfurls. We arrived at low water with a couple of hours light remaining in the day. The sea was coloured up as expected and optimism was high that fish would be foraging close to the shore. In the past such a murky sea would have screamed cod but those days are long gone. Instead we hoped for spurdog, bull huss, tope and big conger.

I have started using single hooks for most of my winter rock fishing with either a 2/0 catfish hook or a 6/0 Sakuma Manta with a short length of wire as insurance against the teeth of spurdog or tope. Contrary to general opinion this does not seem to put off the fish to any extent, particularly when the water is coloured or after dark. I was also using the new 80lb b.s shock leader from Sakuma. I will also be employing the clear shock leader as a hook length during the spring and summer targeting huss and ray.

It was good to out in the fresh air as the late afternoon sunshine illuminated the cliffs and hills. A gannet glided across the coloured water and I wondered how they manage to find food in such conditions. I also saw this as a good omen that there were fish to be caught. It was action from the start with small conger smashing into my hook baits within moments of the baits hitting the sea bed. A small pollock also took a small mackerel bait intended for rockling.

 

Whilst I seemed to have found a  congers nursery area Rob seemed to have found the kennel with dogfish finding this baits. The constant action continued with a fish a cast the large rock pool close to my position steadily filling with small conger and dogfish. I noticed Rob enticing a slightly better fish to the shore and was pleased to see a spotted ray swung onto the rocks. Rob also tempted a decent rockling that he decided to return instead of keeping it for bait as he suspected it might be close to spawning.

As darkness descended we hoped the bigger fish would move in. We both missed a couple of slack line bites with one fish breaking off my wink link to the weight as it tore off with the bait. Was this a better fish? If so how come it hadn’t become hooked as the countless strap eels and dogfish had been.

As the tide pushed in we moved up the rocks away from the surging swell. Strangely the bites eased off until we eventually packed away close to high water. It had been an enjoyable session with plenty of small fish. Very different from the fishing that would have been experienced twenty odd years ago when we could have expected a late cod. The numbers of small conger and dogfish now present are undoubtedly an indication of a change in our coastal waters. Whiting and pouting are now scarce; is this due to a change in the climate or an increase in predation from immature conger and spurdog offshore?

As always each session brings more questions than answers. Why for example did I catch in excess of twenty strap eels when Rob caught none yet seemed to catch more dogfish?

18 Feb 2022

SEARCHING FOR THE LADY OF THE RIVER

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The Dorset Frome at West Stafford near Dorchester holds some fabulous grayling that I have been fortunate to target on a couple of occasions over recent years. We stayed at  http://www.chalkstreamflyfishing.co.uk/chalkstream-fly-fishing/the-home-beat/

Evening Light as we arrive for our three day break

The Dairy Annexe is a perfect escape from the troubles of the modern world where we always receive a warm welcome from John and Andrea Aplin.

Whilst the short break was to celebrate Pauline’s birthday I had also booked a day’s fishing hoping to connect with one of the grayling for which the river is renowned. My last visit in October 2019 https://www.northdevonanglingnews.co.uk/2020/10/31/an-autumn-grayling/ had produced a personal best grayling of 2lb 12oz.

As often seems to be the case our trip coincided with stormy conditions the river slightly up and coloured following the fallout from storm Dudley. Fortunately, when it came to my day on the river the colour was starting to drop out. It wasn’t going to be easy but if I fished hard I would be in with a chance.

It was a mild day with a strong blustery wind blowing downstream from the west and casting was not easy. I was using a 10ft nymphing rod with a large weighted nymph on the point and a small nymph on a dropper 12” above. https://www.barbless-flies.co.uk

I decided to start my search on the Upper section of the beat after chatting with John who was keen to assist as always. I walked the bank carefully peering into the clearing water that was frequently ruffled by the strong wind. Whilst I hoped to spot fish it was obvious that searching the water methodically was my best chance. I dropped the heavy nymph into gravelly runs and deeper channels watching the bright line indicator intently. Where possible I fished from the bank wading only when beneficial.

After searching for close to an hour. I glimpsed the movement of a fish; just a momentary blur. I dropped my nymph above and as the flies drifted I saw a flank turn and lifted the rod to connect. The grayling came up in the water its dorsal fin standing proud in the current. The rod bent over as the fish used the strong current to its advantage surging downriver towards the sanctuary of a mass of tree branches. I held the grayling hard and persuaded it back into mid river. The silvery sides and crimson red dorsal fin a splendid sight. A tense couple of minutes passed before I eventually coaxed the prize into the net. A splendid grayling that was undoubtedly well over 2lb.

I took a couple of quick pictures to capture a memory. Slipping the lady of the stream back into the cool water. Delighting as the fish disappeared with a flick of its tail.

I searched on for a while before returning to the warmth of the Annexe for a hot coffee and a snack.

I returned to the river with Pauline searching the lower stretch of the beat carefully. The gusty wind made fishing tricky and my fishing rhythm seemed to have temporarily deserted me as my nymphs seemed to find overhanging branches and tangle frequently. It was also slightly annoying to feel the slow ingress of cold water into a leaky wader! I persisted and eventually started to fish with my previous confidence with only occasional minor tangles.

Tangled lines (:

Birdsong reverberated from the nearby trees. A couple of mink appeared beside the river appearing rather bold despite my presence. The search of the water was enthralling as I became lost in concentration and expectation as I surveyed the ever flowing water.

Searching the River

I lifted the rod to each flicker of the bright tippet indicator. A brief connection with a grayling brought renewed hope the electrifying jolt of life and the glimpse of a silver flank. I spotted a couple of grayling elusive shadows in the stream.

The fading light of the day.

The hours passed by all too soon and the light levels started to drop. I had numerous last casts before conceding my day was done. Walking slowly back through the trees I caught sight of a few Sika deer and enjoyed a brief encounter; stood just a few yards from a deer we stared into each other’s eyes in the fading light.

The following day Pauline and I called into Lyme Regis on our way home. It was surprisingly mild and sunny as tourists strolled around the sea front. Talk was all about the coming Storm named Eunice. Within the delightfully untidy shelves of the second-hand bookshop, I discovered a small booklet; The Fish of Exmoor, by H.B. Maund. More of that in a separate feature….

 

 

 

13 Feb 2022

CHASING PREDATORS

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As I write this on a Sunday morning rain is lashing down beating against the window driven by a strong South West wind, the fire is crackling in the grate. It’s a good time to reflect on two days chasing predators with good friends.

I was awoken by the alarm at 3:45am on Thursday morning eager to visit the legendary Chew Valley Lake near Bristol. The 100 mile journey proved uneventful and I pulled into the carp park at 7:30 to greet my long term fishing buddy Bruce Elston. Shortly after 8:00am we were anchored up in twelve feet of water as the morning sun illuminated the calm lake.

We both cast out dead-baits beneath crimson topped floats the baits resting on the bottom. Lures were cast to search around the boat and a pike followed Bruce’s latest lucky lure to the side of the boat before disappearing with a flick of its tail.

My float stood abruptly to attention before sliding beneath the water! I wound down immediately to feel a pleasing resistance. Chew Valleys long history as a water containing massive pike always gives a deep sense of anticipation. Is this a jack or the fish of dreams, that thirty pounder or perhaps even a forty?

The pike is a jack of five or six pounds. Ten minutes later the float slides away again and this time it’s a far better fish. As it approaches the boat it launches itself attempting to shake the hooks free. The image of the pike erupting from the water in a flurry of spray is one of those images that will be etched upon the minds eye for many years.

The pike pulls the scales down to 17lb 3oz and is no monster in Chew terms but a good result for an occasional piker like myself.

This proves to be the highlight of a great day shared with a good friend. We savour a full day upon this vast reed fringed lake. Planes fly overhead from nearby Bristol Airport a sign that the world is moving once again after two very strange years. A pair of swans fly past majestically, terns and gulls constantly twist and turn in the winter sky. The cold winter air bites at the extremities. Sausages sizzle on the stove and the kettle whistles as we enjoy the occasional warming joy of hot tea and coffee. Blood trickles from lacerated fingers after handling numerous pike as the day progresses. All of today’s fish fall to dead-baits, joey mackerel, smelt and blueys.

We end the day with seventeen pike between us and two hard fighting rainbow trout that also seized dead-baits.

We arrived back at the jetty as the light began to fade. “Any good ?” I ask a fellow angler. “A few Jacks and a low double; not what we came for”. he replied in a slightly dejected tone. Bruce and I had also come in hope of that fish of a lifetime but had enjoyed the day immensely just catching a good few pike. Savouring the atmosphere and anticipation. I have fished Chew for close to twenty years and will keep returning. One day I might just tempt that thirty pound pike but if not I will enjoy the journey and each dip of that crimson topped float.

A mid twenty conger
(Above) Les Smith with one of many spurs
Rob Scoines holds a bull huss with attitude

Steve Dawe with vividly marked huss

(Above) Brian Hopcroft with a good spur
Good eel for Chris Hodgson
Bob Hopcroft with a fine spur.
Chris Hodgson with a good spur

The next day I set sail from Ilfracombe with seven other anglers in search of spurdog. We are blessed with a calm day sandwiched between days of strong winds. The spurdog packs seven miles offshore provide an exciting day with over two hundred a conservative estimate. A few good conger to mid-twenties add to the excitement along with handsome bull huss their sides decorated with a multitude of leopard like patterns. Hopefully a full account of this trip will appear in a future edition of Hookpoint Magazine.

 

 

 

30 Jan 2022

BAIT DISASTERS

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On arrival home from fishing my first trip is generally to the shed to return unused bait to the freezer. I take my bait to the shore in a freezer bag so if its not too mild some of it can be placed back in a semi frozen state. I had carried out this ritual after last week’s competition.

The freezer bag and a couple of old traces lay on the floor when I prepared for my next session close to a week later. It seemed slightly iffy as I picked up last weeks trace and went to lift last week’s bait wrappers. I winced as my fingers felt a soft and slimy week old bluey! Its pungent aroma was certainly far from pleasing.

This isn’t my first bait disaster and probably won’t be the last. Smelly old mackerel, squid and peeler crabs have all caused offence in the past.

Amongst my worsts disasters came a few years ago whilst fishing the Hampshire Avon. My good friend Rupert and I returned from the river after a long day with rain beating down. It was good to be heading back for a good meal. Several pints of maggots sat in a bucket in the back of the car but they would be fine until morning!

We had overlooked the fact that the bucket had got wet. Next morning upon opening the boot we found maggots everywhere! We mopped up what we could the following day and went fishing. On arriving back home I removed the spare tyre to find hundreds of maggots in the well. A good old hoover and I hoped all was good; bloody maggots infiltrated the entire car burying into the carpets and every nook and cranny. For weeks after every warm day saw a hatch of flies within the car! Pauline was far from amused!

 

 

19 Jan 2022

DISCOVERING A LONG LOST MARK

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Watching the news this morning took me back to a wonderful time in the early eighties when for seven days we would wander the North Devon coast in search of specimen fish. The Ilfracombe & District Angling Association organised a popular angling festival each summer that was well attended by both locals and visiting anglers. The ignition for these memories was sparked by the mention on BBC news of one of North Devon’s famous rock marks.

Back then as we competed against each other to catch the biggest fish and successful marks could be a closely guarded secret with some going to extreme lengths to discover these marks. Spotting a known anglers car parked adjacent to a coastal access point was a common giveaway or a quick glance through the window would give a clue if it was an angler’s car with associated fishing bits a giveaway. Back then all cars also displayed a tax disc giving a clue as to the angler’s residential area.

This was of course long before the days of social media where anglers post their catches and often try to disguise marks using clever photo shop techniques. Not sure if there are more or less anglers these days but there are probably less fish. Coastal access has however become an increasingly problematic area. The increase in coastal walkers and those using the coast for recreation has undoubtedly increased considerably and this has in some cases impacted upon free access.

The introduction of fishing permits to gain access has been an unwelcome trend generated in part by a lack of respect for private land and the ongoing issue of litter.

Coastal erosion is also playing its part with once popular marks like Sillery Sands now inaccessible due to landslips.

In truth there are still many miles of accessible coastline that allow free access even if a long walk is required. A day walking the coast can reveal potential marks as can a survey of Google Maps often revealing areas worth exploring.

Those chasing specimen fish often follow the crowd trying to catch the fish that were caught yesterday. Whilst being at the right place at the right time is paramount there are plenty of fish in the sea! Many marks have become popular due to the reporting of good fish a major factor for the more people who fish a mark the more will be caught. Perpetuating the myth that it is the must visit mark.

I fully understand the reason for being careful with informing others of where fish are caught. We all like to have our favourite marks to ourselves but in many cases with a bit of thought it’s not hard to get away from the crowds.

Like most things in life many will always follow the crowd. Back in those days fishing the North Devon Coast during the Ilfracombe Festival I fondly remember the smirks as the competition organisers voice echoed across the harbour. Today’s winner is “ Bullshit Bov , with a fine specimen wrasse of 6lb from “ Fraggle Rock”.

 

Fraggle rock a popular childrens TV programme has been relaunched. It ran from 1983 until 1987.

24 Dec 2021

WINTER PERFECTION

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The trees were stark and dark looming out of the mist as night gave way to day. The line was punched out and allowed to settle the lures sinking slowly in the clear water. I began the retrieve attempting to impart life into the two flies. The cool water stung the fingers as I settled into the rhythm of fly fishing for Stillwater trout.

After five minutes the line drew tight with an electrifying tug and for a magical moment there was life on the line. It was short lived however the hooks failing to find a grip.

This brought the essential ingredient of anticipation to the hunt for a trout. The following fifteen minutes or so resulted in several missed takes but no actual hook ups.

I became immersed in the search relishing the cool fresh air, the ever changing light on the water and glimpses of birds upon the lake. Cool rain was driven by the Southwest wind but I hardly noticed as I focussed on the line as it entered the water expectant of that connection with life beneath in an unseen dimension.

After a quiet half an hour I moved fifty yards along the bank and restarted my quest. The line drew tight and life once again pulsed at the end of the line. After a pleasing tussle a handsome brown trout of close to 2lb was brought to the net and admired briefly before being slipped back to disappear with a flick of its tail. Another brown trout equally handsome followed a couple of casts later; half the size of the first.

After an hour without further success the nagging doubts began to set in prompting a move. Once again I cast out into the lake ever expectant. I watched anglers on the far bank and wondered how they were faring? I changed flies, small lures, large lures, small imitative patterns, slow retrieve, fast retrieve, erratic, smooth, deeper and shallower. This is the fascination of fly fishing on a large wind swept Stillwater. Whilst the trout are stocked the fishing has a feeling of wildness that is not experienced in the smaller commercial trout fisheries.

Location is of course vital in the search for success and after three hours without a winter rainbow I decided to move to the far bank. I walked back to the van, broke down the rod; loaded the gear and drove to the next car park.

A hot coffee from the flask and I set off to fish a new area with renewed optimism. I waded out and punched the line out across the lake. A stiff breeze was blowing and the water felt cool as I stood waist deep. It was now early afternoon and I sensed that the best of day had passed. Suddenly the line zipped tight and the rod hooped over as a hard fighting rainbow threw itself into the air. It was a relief to get a rainbow on the bank a pristine fish of a couple of pounds.

I fished on with  renewed expectation and was soon rewarded as a heavy pull resulted in connection with a super fit rainbow that took the line almost to the backing. The rod was hooped over as I relished the moments as the fish shook its head on a tight line making repeated powerful runs. After several tense minutes the rainbow was coaxed over the waiting net. Four and a half pounds of fin perfect perfection was given the last rites and laid to rest beside the other rainbow.

The winter sun eventually broke through illuminating the landscape. Shots from a nearby shoot drifted across the lake. I fished on content with success and was delighted when once again the line drew tight and a third prime conditioned rainbow was brought to the net after another exciting tussle.

The sun was now sinking closer to the hill tops and I decided to head for home after an exciting and rewarding days fishing. Wimbleball remains open until New Year’s Eve and is well worth a visit. I look forward to returning at the end of February at the start of a new season. Many thanks must go to Mark and Trudi Underhill for providing what is undoubtedly the jewel in the crown of South West trout fishing. Its not always easy but those rainbows are true piscatorial perfection!

21 Dec 2021

Winter Solstice Reward

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The Winter solstice, the shortest day of the year so with time limited and Christmas looming I decided on a short session at Bulldog Fishery in search of a winter trout. With a cold Easterly wind blowing this sheltered water was an ideal venue to grab a couple of hours sport.

I arrived close to 10:00am and was given a cheery welcome from fishery owner Nigel Early who was busy preparing Christmas turkeys.

The lake was crystal clear with very little weed growth remaining. I set up and took a wander around the lake glimpsing the occasional rainbow but none of the double figure browns or rainbows that have been recently stocked. I had tied on a small bead headed pheasant tail nymph and cast this to the middle of the lake where a few trout could be seen cruising high in the water. The first couple of casts resulted in missed takes.

The inlet area is often well worth a try and the sight of large trout rolling in the turbulent inlet water prompted a move to the far bank where I could cast my fly into the flow.

The line sailed out the small nymph dropping past the flowing water. I tightened the floating line and watched the tip intently. The line twitched and I lifted the rod connecting with a hard  fighting rainbow of around 6lb.

A large trout repeatedly swirled within my casting zone and I wondered if it was one of the lakes big browns? I persisted with the small nymph adding a couple more trout to the bag each full tailed rainbow in the 3lb to 4lb range.

The water was crystal clear yet the light was wrong to get a really good look into the water. The occasional good sized trout drifted into view but takes eased off a little. I experimented with a wet daddy longlegs to no avail then switched to the tried and trusted damsel nymph.

First cast a large rainbow followed the lure before turning away after following for a couple of feet. Next cast the line drew tight and the rod bent over in a satisfying curve as a large trout shook its head in an effort to shake the hook free. The flanks of a large brown trout flashed in the clear water and a tense tussle ensued before the fish was safely in the net. I admired its boldly patterned flanks and slipped the hook from its jaws. The brown trout looked to be about 7lb a very pleasing result to celebrate the turning of the year. I held the fish for a moment in the cool water until with a kick of the tail the prize was once again within a different dimension beneath the cold surface of the winter lake.

I fished on for a while changing back to the pheasant’s tail nymph to take a last rainbow before heading for home in time for an early lunch.