













Those big moments in angling are often the result of a bit of luck and there are many sayings used in relation to the luck factor. ” The harder I try the luckier I get” is perhaps one of the biggest in angling. Chatting with Nigel about the carp lake I pondered upon the investment of time when he commented on an angler having caught one carp in eight days fishing. Carp fishing by its nature is a discipline where the amount of time spent on the bank can be seen as hours invested results in success.
Fly Fishing and in particular competitive fly fishing is time constrained meaning that the decisions made on the day within a strict time frame are perhaps more focused. Thinking back over my many years at the water’s edge many of my personal best fish can be attributed to a big slice of luck that has to some extent been cultivated.

The big brown trout I caught during Bulldogs February Competition is a good example. I had started the day in peg 10 determined by a random draw. As is often the case the first twenty minutes are often hectic with the fish seizing anglers offerings with gusto. I capitalised on this early spell banking two rainbows though I could and should have done better as numerous fish came off after a few seconds of brief connection. A lesson that I have learnt is that in a competition keep at it if the fish are playing ball for they will often switch off quickly as a result of angling pressure.

The competitive format is that every twenty minutes the horn is blown and all move two pegs along. The next three moves resulted in just one fish for myself and by late morning I had still to catch that fourth fish to complete the morning quota. Colin Combe a friend from Wistlandpound angling Club had come for a chat and we talked of previous successes at various lakes. Fly choice is a widely debated topic amongst fly fishers and we both agreed that Bulldog Trout seem to respond to larger lure patterns. My own favourite is an olive damsel whilst Colin reflected upon recent success with a cats-whisker. Now I know the cats whisker is a very successful fly but it is not a fly I tend to use often.
Half an hour or so later I was fishing the point a good peg but success was eluding me. It was by now lashing with rain and there were only three of us left on the striving for that fourth fish whilst all other anglers chatted in the warmth of the hut beside a roaring woodburner with hot drinks and biscuits. Tom walked over and perhaps taking pity upon us told us we could fish where we liked during the last twenty minutes.
I took the opportunity to walk ten yards to peg ten where I had started the day. I carefully tied on a catswhisker and checked the hooks bend for it was a fly that had resided in my fly box for quite a while. I cast the fly to what I perceived was the hot spot and after two tweaks of retrieve all locked up as a big fish hit the fly. Five apprehensive minutes or so later a big beautiful brown trout slid over the rim of the net.


It was a very lucky cast destined by being in the right place at the right time with a fly at the lines end that tempted the trout. In a stocked Stillwater big fish are no wiser than small fish. If there is any skill it is in the landing of the fish as a big fish can break free as they often do. Checking those knots, hooks and removing those line weakening wind knots are key to capitalising upon luck.

The burger and chips went down well as we chatted of fishing, country sports, healthy eating, cooking, local meetings with rock stars and a wide range of wider topics wisely keeping clear of politics and other contentious issues.

The afternoon session proved harder going with most struggling to complete their six fish limit. I did add another brown trout of a couple of pounds and lost a good rainbow of perhaps four pounds when the hook pulled. Chatting later it was obvious that the trout were nipping at the tails of the flys without fully committing.
It was cheery bunch at the weigh in as the days catches were admired and memories captured before heading home with plenty of trout and prizes.







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Mid-January, a steely cold grey morning with rain pattering on the car windscreen as I navigate the winding road across the winter landscape of Exmoor. My destination is the River Haddeo a tributary of the Upper Exe just over the Somerset border.
I call into Lance Nicholson’s Fishing & Guns in Dulverton to renew my Dulverton Angling Association membership which at £35.00 is excellent value giving access to several beats on the Rivers Exe, Barle and Haddeo. Whilst brown trout are the predominant species there is also a population of grayling.

Grayling are not native to Exmoor but have thrived since their introduction into the Exe in around 1896. These delightful silver ladies of the stream offer an excuse to visit the river in the depths of winter when the valleys have a certain atmosphere that contrasts with the vibrancy of Spring and summer.
After catching up on the latest river news with James in the shop I grab an apple and pork sausage roll from the Exmoor Deli and head to the Pixton Estate.
Frank McBratney a long time DAA member and Haddeo regular reflects on his experience below :-
“Fishing the Haddeo makes a lovely half-day or more in quiet moorland farming country, for it is private water, hidden from tourists and dog-walkers. It is often feasible to fish the Haddeo when there is too much water running off the moor, and the Little Exe and the Barle are in spate. The Haddeo usually fines down sooner than its sister streams after a storm. This is because floodwater from the upper part of the river is impounded and normally held up by the dam, and the lower part drains only its own small valley. The converse of this is that the water level of the Haddeo can sometimes be lower than is natural, because of the dam. It is therefore not the best of streams to fish in a long, dry spell. However, there is a river-conservation agreement for “compensation water” to be released from the dam from time to time, and this invigorates the river and improves the fishing when it happens – not only in the Haddeo but all the way downstream through the Little Exe and into the Exe itself.
I park up the car, make a fresh brew of coffee and bite into the hot sausage roll. Pheasants strut about eyeing up the visitor to the estate. In just a couple of weeks the shooting season will be over and the valley will descend into a peaceful lull before Spring. Though I’m sure there will be plenty of work clearing fallen trees and clearing up extensive winter storm damage.


I thread the line through the rings and tie on a couple of tungsten nymphs with which to search the river. I have chosen to fish the Haddeo in preference to the Exe as I suspect recent rain will impact upon the main river more than the Haddeo that is to some extent buffered by Wimbleball Reservoir.

This is my third visit to the Haddeo in search of grayling and is becoming a regular feature in my winter fishing diary. The river valley has its own charm and character offering a less formidable experience than that of the main river.
I negotiate the entrance to the beat wading under the stone bridge to enter a sanctuary from the modern world. The river is slightly up with a tinge of colour that will I hope make my presence less obvious to the grayling I seek.
Having fished the river before I know where to concentrate my efforts and start my search using tight line nymphing tactics. The river twists and turns with ancient fallen trees providing intriguing entrances to the riverside.

My initial probing of the water proves fruitless but as I work upstream my confidence increases and I settle into a rhythm of dibbling the nymphs to search the river. I have the heaviest nymph on a dropper with a light pattern with a flash of pink on the point. This ensures that both trip along close to the bottom where I anticipate the grayling will be lying.

Its starting to rain heavily as I approach a pleasing looking glide that speaks of fish as I read the water. The drift commences the bright leader tightens and a silver grayling gyrates in the water as the rod flexes. My prize slides over the waiting net and I admire her bright beauty that contrasts with the grey winter day. I take a quick picture before slipping her back into her watery home; and away as they say on ‘Gone Fishing’.


I hook another grayling on my next cast a bit bigger but it slips the hook after a few seconds. I’m not too bothered by this loss as I have caught my target fish and anymore will be a bonus.
I amble on up river content in success. Towards the top of the beat is a run in which I have caught grayling on each of my previous visits and I flick my offering with joyous optimism. The line tightens but it‘s an out of season brown trout that darts around the pool, flanks of warm olives and golds decorated with crimson spots. I slip the barbless hook free with the trout in the water and hope to catch it again on a warm summer evening.

I slowly work my way back down the beat searching the favourite lies again without connecting. Snowdrops are starting to emerge from the cold soil their white flowers offering promise of spring. A wren flits between tangles of bramble. A pheasants cry drifts through the afternoon valley and the sun is starting to show behind a thin veil of cloud. Wisps of smoke drift from country cottage chimneys.
I wade back under the old stone road bridge and stroll back to the car where I finish off a Luke warm coffee and cold sausage roll that I left unfinished in my eagerness to embrace the waters edge. As I un tackle I congratulate myself on returning at the days end with the same two flies. As despite one or two tangles I have denied the trees and river snags any offerings; a rare accomplishment for this at times inexpert dangler.
I drive home passing through Dulverton, resisting the strong temptation to peruse the second hand fishing books that are always waiting on the bookshelves within Rothwell & Dunworth.
(Below) Winterstorms have left their mark. at the waters edge.
It is a often a dilemma as to clear or leave as woody debris can provide valuable benefits to fish and fauna.













A personal account of the day
The winding Devon roads took me over hills and through misty valleys as the sun slowly broke through illuminating the frosty landscape. It was a classic winter morning, sounds of the sixties on the radio and a day’s fishing to look forward to.
I arrived at my destination the Arundell shortly after 8:00am and joined Rodney Wevill and other Fluff Chucker’s in the car park as the days shooting party scurried around in readiness for their day ahead.
After a brief catch up we headed into the historic Cockpit building for bacon baps and freshly brewed coffee. Anticipation for the day ahead was high and fuelled by tales of previous trips and adventures.

In addition to several miles of river fishing for salmon, sea trout, brown trout and grayling the Arundell has its own lake. The lake is an old flooded quarry with crystal clear water that is regularly stocked with brown and rainbow trout. Despite the average stock size being between 1lb 8oz and 2lb far larger trout are known to lurk within the deep dark waters.


James Christoforou is head of fishing at the Arundell so before heading to the lake to compete with fellow Fluff Chucker’s I sought James advice as to tactics and flies. Following his advice I set up two rods one with a duo set up as James thought it likely that the fish would be near to the surface. The other rod was set up with a rather drab gold-head lure on the point with a flexible tail dressing that would flutter attractively in the water.

The competition started at 10:00am with each angler on their drawn peg. Every half an hour each angler would move two pegs ensuring that by the end of the day each peg had been fished.
I had drawn peg one with Roger Truscott to my right on peg two. Shortly after cast off I glanced over to see Rogers rod bent as a trout splashed about on a tight line. Within a few moments of releasing this trout Roger was in again and I wondered just how he has such a knack of connecting with the trout!
I cast my line and watched the leader intently lifting the rod briskly when it twitched slightly as the lure sank in the clear water. It was good to connect and get a fish under my belt. As we moved pegs I asked Roger how many he had caught and he replied “eight or nine I think”. By this time I had managed a brace of rainbows and browns.


As expected the catch rate started to drop for all and by the end of the morning I think Roger was on nine whilst I was on seven.

We stopped for lunch at midday and James delivered hot pasties and coffee to those who requested it. For half an hour we all chatted and analysed the mornings fishing. It was obvious that Roger and I had received a big slice of good fortune as pegs one to four were undoubtedly well populated with recently stocked fish. The two end pegs at the lakes far end producing no trout.

The afternoon was surprisingly slow and I only added one fish a 43cm brown trout that was the biggest of the day. Roger once again proved his dominance of Fluff Chucker events ending the day with eleven trout.


We retired once again to the warmth of the Cockpit for the prize giving and a hot coffee. Rodney Wevill does an exceptional job at organising these friendly events and securing sponsorship from Yeti, Lakedown Brewing co & Tap Room. And of course the Arundell whose waters are always a joy to fish.





