South Devon new rod christening and June Bass!

Sat 30th June- Sunday 1st July Managed a couple of sessions in south Devon over the weekend and finally bass-christened my new Temple Fork BVK and Danielsson combo at about the 6th time of trying. (I had previously had numerous mini pollack which I try to enjoy but you know how it is ;-)) Weather: very windy from SW and bright no warmer than 17c Tide: small but rising to high around 5pm Had the fish on a chartreuse Livebait Clouser in size 6 (this time tied short and stumpy and a bit less sparse than I normally do). Due to the high winds and some rude lure fishermen plonking themselves right on top of the water I was quietly fishing I had found myself covering some deeper water a bit more off the beaten track. I had found some white water with a bit of a ledge and was diligently covering the drop off when I thought the fly had caught on said ledge and was cursing under my breath when the snag started shaking it's head! Excellent- I'm in, and even better there's a flash of gun metal silver rather than the coppery pollack I was expecting!! Not a huge fish and as it had taken so close in I didn't play it off the reel and didn't get to hear the Danielsson purr. A spirited fight under the rod tip with a few short runs and a handy wave beached her nicely at my feet.

So nice to see how beautiful they are again.

It had inhaled the clouser deeply- 44cm 1.5lb I would guess

Woohoo- off the mark with the new rod and reel! Will

BAAAAASSSSSS!!

Early morning success later…. And new mark fish 13th\14th August A work hiatus and fishing less family trip to the South Hams saw me returning solo for an evening session followed by a full day. The fits evening saw me fishing the south west facing rocks opposite the bay we had visited as a family together at the weekend. I will never cease to be amazed by how much the sea conditions can change the whole coastal environment so quickly. The northern winds of only two days previously had swung round to more normal brisk south westerlies which meant that the rocks were difficult to fish from with regular large waves rushing up the rock faces. This made fly fishing nigh in impossible and the lures I cycled through brought no success on the dropping tide. A fairly restless night (I usually sleep like a kid before Christmas day before dawn trips) saw me awake before my 5am alarm. It seems odd to see this as relatively more civilised than the 3.30 start required for a high summer trip. I fairly trotted down to the normal point excited by the prospect of the fishing dawn trip can bring. As a child my pre-breakfast trips often brought success and all the bass blogs and websites speak glowingly of the bass and baitfish an early morning trip can bring. I had resolved to keep mobile on this neap tide so after forty minute so fly and lure I moved round the point I the bassy hole that often forms my second option here. I soon found myself drifting a Wave Stick around in the light current appreciating the slowed down feeling and the sensitivity required to concentrate on the soft bait. I still haven’t had a bass on this method but will persevere as I quite enjoy the change of approach. Lots of hard lure fisherman seem to like the feedback and speed of cranking hard lures and whilst I can appreciate this view and enjoy this method I also like the variety of drifting weightless baits.

By now with high water at 4.45 A.M. the tide had dropped and I was back on the floating shooting head closer in to the bay fishing above the head of the weed revealing itself. I had been trying to vary the retrieve and keep my confidence high by telling myself a bass could come along at any moment. In truth I had drifted in to a spacey reverie accompanied by the by now fairly standard quick strip-strip-strip I fall n to by default when fishing Livebaits or Clousers. Ten bang fish on and I was awakened with a powerful hit and heavy head shaking weight which quadrupled then gain doubled my pulse as the unseen fish slammed in to my fly. I was in no doubt this was a bass due to the sheer ferocity and power of its take and early fight but was still relieved and delighted to see the silvery grey the white flank of the fish and then its dark eye as it first showed itself. Soon enough it had taken all the stripped line and at long last I was playing a sizeable a bass off my sexy Danielsson reel. I immediately found, myself palming the rim before clumsily adjusting the drag too tightly which saw the fish unable to take line and thrashing on the surface. Fearful of losing the fish I quickly more finely adjusted the drag and listened to it purring keenly as the bass again took line. I had been waiting for this moment since February when I took delivery of the beautiful and extravagant piece of Swedish engineering. Despite the early power and runs I was still soon able to bring the fish in to close by the rocks and after some initial trouble in finding a suitable landing point (I still don’t carry a landing net) I was soon able to use a wave to land the fish. What a beauty! 51cm of plump healthy bass. Yes! I even let out a few little whoops! of excitement and pleasure. The fish had taken a very sparsely dressed but large Livebait Clouser tied in gunmetal grey and ash with red yes on a size 2 hook. It was also good to feel that I could catch here in quite shallow water towards a neap low tide.

After some brunch and midmorning campsite beer (odd looks from fellow campers) and brief hot snooze I made my way through the National Trust sheep down the exposed cliffs and rocks beyond the cove we had visited together. This was truly wild and big sea coast with huge rock faces sloping down in to deep looking sea. The sea state had calmed since the day before but still required some caution to negotiate safely. It looked great with clear fizzing water and a multitude of likely looking areas with drop off ledges and gullies all visible. All a bit deeper than ideal but still with that excitement of dipping in the unknown and fishing new ground. I guess it’s not a “mark” until you have caught fish from it and perhaps not even until you have unlocked its code a bit. With the deep water in mind I put on the sinking Rudra jerk bait I had bought for Chesil Beach bassing. Soon it was attacked by a schoolie at the end of the retrieve, which was almost immediately landed at my feet by the large wave which swept the fish up almost as soon as it had been hooked. Only a small fish but great to catch on not just a new lure but a new style of lure. Chuffed. I fished a couple of likely looking spots just further along and took almost countless Pollack- some up top about 1.5lb on a variety of lures from Savage Gear Sandeels to Livebait flies and in particular a chartreuse back and white belly Deceiver patter. I also lost two smallish bass – one on a Livebait and another on an olive SGS before finally landing another smallish bass of 43cm this time on a gun metal grey and red eye Livebait fly. I also landed quite a few smallish mackerel that look like they were herding brit in to the bay formed at high tide; it also looked like the south west wind might be helping the bait fish gather in this areas as many of the Pollack were regurgitating an almost jelly like see through mass of fry with distinctive eyes as they were landed. It was easy to see how the smaller Livebait flies made an excellent representation. On the way back I fished on the rocks right above the family cove and was greeted by the sight of a bay absolutely full of a massive shoal of mackerel cashing unseen prey right on the surface. For a while it was difficult to avoid them but soon enough I managed to get the Rudra to avoid them by casting parallel to the shore right through the white water close in. Jerking the Rudra I soon felt a bag bang followed by a full take. Stupidly I was convinced this was a Pollack and in checking for identity left a slackish line which combined with the bass thrashing on the surface lead to its escape. Damn. Damn. Bad angling. It was now time to beg nth trip home and reflect upon a fish filled day and new mark which deserved respect and is probably really only fishable in calming weather conditions.

New Season- Usk Town Water

My first freshwater fly session of the year found me unsurprisingly rusty but it was still a treat to be back on the banks of the town water at Usk after a winter dreaming of casting a fly again. In unseasonably warm temperatures and sunshine- high must have been around 17c- the water was low and clear but cool to the touch. A warm southerly breeze added to the out of kilter season feeling and aided turnover of my upstream casts with a long and fine leader. Despite reports of LDO hatches and even some March Browns I found little evidence of upwing fly life or rising trout. There did seem to be the very odd fish rising - oncers is a good name for them; but I couldn’t really latch on to what they were going for- buzzers perhaps. Perhaps rather unimaginatively I settled on a clink-and-dink approach with a size 14 Jean Williams tied gold head below an Olive pattern. Fishing in a searching pattern I was soon in to a strong 12 incher which managed to swim through the trailing fly line whilst I attempted to use a landing net rather too well tethered to its magnetic ‘quick’ release. More thought required as to how best to rig up this release system. What a lovely feeling to get in to a beautiful spotted brownie so soon in to the new season. As is my way with the first fish of a season and often my first fish on a new river the fish was returned after a little coaxing in some gentle current. This always feels like paying homage to the river and giving thanks for the beauty and sport still to come. I also encountered problems with twisting of my leader probably caused by a combination of a large-ish dry fly and fine 3lb leader. This still surprised me a bit as the fly was only a size 14- if quite a robust- Jean Williams pattern and I don’t normally get line twist issues with 3lb fluoro carbon leader. I’ve just started using Airflo fluoro rather than my normal Fulling Mill though this has not been down to any clear choice but rather owing to there being no 3lb Fulling Mill available at Veals.

A few further first session of new season gripes hampered me which I suppose is the kind of thing that happens when your kit has been stuck away forgotten for a while. The leaks in my expensive breathable chesties were much worse than I remembered them to be. I shall try to see if there are any definite holes or tears but I fear that it is either the seams or an overall loss of waterproofness. An inside out test in the shower will hopefully reveal all. Moving further up river I hooked another nice 12 incher which initially fought hard and deep making me think I had latched on to a real Usk heavyweight. The fish again came to the gold head nymph. Soon after this I thought I felt the weighted nymph hitting the blank as I cast. However on looking at the tip of the rod it was apparent that I had lost the tip ring from myself built Batson 4 weight. This made casting rather awkward and so the session was curtailed.
Great to be out on the river again and hopefully I’ll fit in a few more trips to this beautiful and bounteous river before my attentions get firmly diverted to my true love of SWFF.

Usk Town Water

Wednesday 4th August



So to another trip to the Town Water on the Usk at Usk. Jean Williams confirmed that following a quick three feet up and down spate last week the water had freshened up and was fishing well. The fish had been up top so unsurprisingly she reckoned that dry fly would be the order of the day. Refusing her offer of a cup of tea owing to the shorter evenings I was despatched with instructions to try skating sedge or a white moth. Parking and then walking up to the top of the beat it was clear that whilst there was much more flow than on my last visit that water levels were still low, if anything even lower and clearer than my last trip a month or so ago. Having read the ‘strictly no chest waders’ instruction on the day ticket which I had previously been unaware of I was careful not to wade above thigh height as I made my way slowly out in to a smooth glidey section where I had plenty of action last time out. Tackling up with a white Cardinal and a small bead head nymph underneath I was soon in to a nice rhythm. Forty minutes or so later I was still working my way slowly and carefully upstream with thoughts beginning to turn to longer and thinner leaders in an attempt to deal with the very low and very clear conditions and the lack of a touch despite there being a few fish showing. My mind must have wandered off as the end of the effective drift of the fly came to an end and I turned over my shoulder to look at something or other. My attention was jerked back by a violent take and jump to the now skating Cardinal. A large fish, which looked well above 2lbs, showed itself with a couple of jumps and then probably due to the slack line it was off as quickly as it was on. The very next cast I was to miss what seemed like a nice solid bite to the nymph as I lifted off at the end of a drift and skate. After another thirty minutes or so of fruitless skating with nice bulky G&H Sedge it was to a long and thin 2lb leader that I turned in the quest for a bite.

By now, as the light began to fade there were rises all over the far side of the river with lots of fly life of various sorts scooting around the place. Not being an entomological expert I’m not really sure what I could see. There looked to be some reddish sedges, black gnats, some pale small flies (pale waterys?) and some corixa in the sheltered shallows. Sure enough there were also some fairly substantial off white up winged flies that Jean had told me would be well imitated by the Cardinal. I’m sure the variety of fly life was also reflected by the range or rises happening around me. There were some violent slashes perhaps to sedges, some head and tailers almost porpoising for whatever they were on and some almost imperceptible delicate sips from some quite large fish. At one stage I had a nice fish come up and slowly and delicately mouthe the Klinkhamer. I haven’t really yet got to grips with my newly bought ‘Match the Hatch’ pocket guide by Peter Lapsley but I’m fairly certain that the head and tailers were feeding on something just sub surface or hatching but I’m not so sure about the delicate sips- probably to something small and immobile which the fish don’t need to expend much energy on getting. To cut a long story short I definitely didn’t match the hatch this night or unlock the key to what the fish were on. I did however manage this beautiful golden wildie of just under 15” which some on line charts told me would probably be around 1lb 3 to 1 1\2 lb. It took the size 17 tungsten headed hare’s ear which I was dragging along under a Klinkhamer. It fought with strength but made only one run of any substance as it preferred to slug it out at close quarters by kiting first one way then the other. It also managed to expose my lack of net (both recently left bank side) as it was way too strong for me to hold safely as it tried to bring it to hand in mid river. Instead I was forced to wade to the bank side and beach the fish. Oddly given the amount of surface action the fish was choc full of snails.



At least this type of experience should help me become a more thoughtful fisherman able to choose something appropriate rather than just relying on a hunch or a well known patter. Certainly my experience tonight has shown that on these larger richer waters it is more important to match the natural life which is a contrast to the smaller streams and barren upland waters where the fish are less fussy and happy to take a wider range of patterns

At one stage I observed some strange behaviour room silvery looking fish of around a 1lb or so right close to my feet as a waded fairly deep. It looked like the fish was repeatedly scraping first one side then the other against the stony stream bed. I’m not in any way sure but my only thought was perhaps it was sea trout trying to scrape sea lice off itself.

Rushed River Lugg session

Wye and Usk Foundation near Presteigne

I managed to squeeze in quick couple of hours on my drive back to Bristol. I think (Uncle) James and perhaps Grandpa used to fish the Lugg somewhere round these parts way back when. The stream here is full of fairly classic riffles and glides with some very deep pot pools and quite calm stretches. The water had probably been freshened up a bit by the heavy showers of the last week or so and whilst still running what looked to be quite low it had a tinge of colour to it which boded well for some sport. Despite some little grey flies (I really must brush up on my entomology) coming off I didn’t see a singe rise on my walk downstream. This only served to dampen my new water optimism a tad as I tacked up with now fairly de-rigueur New Zealand style dry and trailing weighted nymph. This being a fairly short trip on my way home I found myself struggling to relax and actually fish rather than mechanically going through the motions. I was thus very glad to hook a lively fish on a quick and shallow run. Initially I had to horse it out from under a sunken tree with some side strain. The rod being low then immediately led to the line catching under a slatey piece of rock from which the fish made good it escape. This was one of those occasions when you find yourself striking without really being sure why. Some say that it is some kind of sixth sense kicking in. All I do know is that if you get this feeling it should be acted on. In fact I find that I’m quite often tightening in to a fish without really being conscious o fit. When all is going well it’s the same kind of unthinking alertness which I sometime used to get when playing Ultimate Frisbee well or even more rarely when scoring a goal at hockey. I suppose some sports people would call it being in the zone or experiencing alpha waves in your noddle.

This near success allowed me to relax a little and as it turned out perhaps a tad too much. Squeezing a cast in to a very overgrown pool with willow (?) fronds draping the water I was day dreaming too much when a nice fish flashed out from it's lair to take the fly and I missed the take as the fish turned back back in to its hidey hole as quickly as it came out. Round the next bend I encountered a fish rising just above a fallen log making a mini waterfall. With no option other than to approach from downstream I cast above the log for what was to be a foot long drift at most. Sure enough the leader shot away and I hooked a plump little 6” brownie that manage a few little cartwheeling jumps as I pulled him over the log and it's mini water fall. The fish was quiet distinct from its upland cousins and certainly fatter than than the Claerwen fish from the day before.

Wild and wind-swept Claerwen

Saturday 17th July



Today saw me making the drive over from Ian, Ceri and little Ted’s to Rhayader to fish at Claerwen high up in the hills above the Elan Valley. The princely sum of six English pounds was enough for Daisy Powell of the eponymously named newsagents to give me a day ticket with a quick comment of ‘Claerwen’s been fishing well!” Rather more worryingly, for it is mostly the solitude I enjoy, she also assured me that plenty had been fishing up there. I arrived at the upper car park to find a westerly hooly blowing straight down the west to east running reservoir. I decided to yomp up the southern side of the water for about 45 mins which was enough to take me probably three quarter’s of the way up the water. The plan was then to make my way back down towards the dam. During the walk I had a mini d’oh moment when I realised that my fly vest being packed for a trip on the Hampshire Avon, I had forgotten my traditional wet flies box. It wasn’t until I looked in my gold head and nymphs box that I was relieved to find that enough cross-pollination had happened to allow a few bushy traditional patterns to find their way on to today’s trip. Tackling up with a three fly cast I began a few short exploratory casts alongside the bank with a very strong west wind rushing from my left to right. We all know that the left to right nature of the wind makes the cast and walk method so nice and manageable for exploring these wild waters. Almost immediately I was missing the lightening quick takes so typical of these little wild brownies. Steeling myself to concentrate harder it was not until after I had missed four or five more takes that I found myself attached to a fish. Almost immediately a peat stained golden flash very close in to the bank revealed what looked like a sizeable fish. In truth the fish had slammed in to my fly so hard that I probably would have struggled not to end up being attached to it. It wasn’t really making any runs but was using its shoulders to plough up and down only ten feet or so out from the rocky bank. The 7 1\2 ‘ 3\4 weight rod was showing a pleasing bend and getting a much better fight out if the fish than the heavier rod and line I would have had to use if I was casting in to the wind.

In the adrenalin packed early moments of the fight I managed to end up in the water after stepping on to a soft bit of sandy beach that had been pushed up by the waves and which gave way as soon as I set foot on it. With the ensuing slacker line I was probably lucky to stay in touch with the fish. Soon enough the fish was ready to be beached. It had taken the top dropper Bibio which to me is pretty much the epitome of the leggy, buggy, bushy, black patterns that always seem to do well on these upland waters. It also has that flash of red which seems to make it a more attractive morsel than some other dowdier patterns. The fish went 13 ½" which for this type of wild water is a very good fish. (This was measured later at home rather than by the measuring ruler I keep on promising myself I will paint on the rod’s blank above the rod handle. And yes I do occasionally keep a wild fish for the pot. As long as it is only occasional I don’t think this does too much harm. On the whole a pan sized fish is the best eating and if I need some fish for the barbecue I will go and catch some rainbows if I can. Virtually all my WBT go back and it does feel great to use a barbless hook, nurse them back to life if need be, and then to watch them swim away healthily if a little but sulkily).



Later, on my proud explanation to Ceri that this was quite a large fish she was to respond with “How much skill is there in catching a large fish as opposed top smaller ones?” After a quick bit of on the hoof musing I was able to reply with that it was probably a fifty\fifty mix of pot luck and skill with the skill component mainly being down to good presentation being required to fool the bigger trout which had become big by being cleverer and more discerning than their younger and smaller cousins. How much truth there is in this I’m not really sure.

The rest of the day was spent step and casting my way down the southern flank of the water. I lost count of the number of fish I landed (perhaps around twenty?) and really have no idea of how many very quick takes I missed either through day dreaming or just through them being too quick for my reflexes. On the whole the fish were not very far out and they tended to either come to the top dropper or the mini gold head on the point. A daddy long leg pattern proved to be top pattern either being taken dry before the leader had sunk or stripped back fairly quickly just sub surface. Many of the fish were the 5 or 6 inchers typical of this type of fairly infertile water with a few 9” fish too, though none any where near as large as my first fish of the day. Sport definitely tailed off as the day grew brighter and brighter from it’s fairly mizzly start. The fish seemed to be fairly evenly spread out with sheltered and calm bays providing nearly as many fish as the wind and wave swept rocky points. The only folk I saw were a couple of mountain bikers and some noisy trail bike riders all of whom were over on the far side using the farm track which skirts the shore. The southern side of the reservoir has only a few sheep tracks though on this visit the water was so low that I could walk easily round on the mainly rocky shoreline. A bird of prey which I think was probably a kite did periodic fly-bys on the hill side above me. It seemed to be fairly unfazed by my presence.

I just love this style of fishing. Some river fishers who are used to targeting individual rinsing fish seem to look down their noses at what they see as the chuck and chance it nature of this fishing. I love the roving rhythm of the day and just being in such a wild and wind swept place. The water has never been stocked so all the fish are as wild and beautiful as they come and have almost certainly never been caught before. They are forced to look up for their food so they are normally fairly free rising unless it happens to be a blue scorcher of a day when the sport will probably be confined to dusk.

On driving back through Rhayader I was amused to see the aftermath of that day's carnival festivities with fancy dressed and dollied up revellers spilling out of the pubs on to the street. All this was certainly a million miles away from the stark beauty of the windswept and wild Claerwen.

Chesil overnighter

July 12th-13th

Fired up by reports of dawn bass on Chesil on Henry Gilbey’s blog Chris and I arrived at the Abbotsbury car park fully charged with bassy thoughts. An azure blue calm day heightened our anticipation as we trudged along behind the shingle bank towards the old concrete defence works known as the Dragon’s Teeth mark. (Reminder to self: pack light next time and take less leads). True to form I managed to quickly get out a fully baited rig while we set up camp (good to get a bait in the water) while Chris took a slightly more leisurely approach to getting himself ready for the day and night ahead. Soon enough Chris whacked out a string of feathers with a Dexter wedge accompanied by “I’ll just get the account opened with a few mackerel”. Little were we to know that it wouldn’t be until the next morning that we were to get anything of note and that would only be a half a dozen or so mackerel.

With spring tide around 7pm we were not too concerned or surprised with the lack of day time action to our various feathers, lures and baits large and small. Come evening time nothing much was happening either with the sea seemingly devoid of life. A wandering lure fisherman confirmed that despite his mate’s recent Friday evening bass that things had indeed been slow locally. I even resorted to the fly rod for a while and whilst I was happy with my casting not a tug was had. I really want to catch a mackerel on the fly. As Chris said it would probably be like being attached to a mini turbo charged tuna- another time perhaps.

Darkness brought a little more action with me retrieving a poor cod which had its guts ripped out by the omnipresent crabs and Chris getting a strong bite which didn’t materialise in to anything. To top things off the spider crabs were regularly snipping through our hook lengths. The plan was to get a couple of hour’s darkness fishing in before rising at dawn to latch on to the bass which were just bound to be around! And so to bed. In one of those tiny flip up tents. Turned out to be ok really- nice and easy up on the beach and just about big enough.

Well we were up by 6.30 which meant we missed dawn by at least two hours. Still nowt about. I valiantly kept on whacking out the feathers and was at least pretty chuffed with my pseudo pendulum casting. Eventually I managed to get around 8 sizeable mackerel all at maximum range. We even chopped one up to have some impromptu sashimi in true Hugh Furry-Windowsill style. Absolutely gorgeous with a bit of wasabi and soy. The rest tasted just beautiful with lemon and oil cooked on the bbq in foil.

I do love spending time at Chesil. I’m not quite sure I can explain why, and I’m not even certain that it’s a good thing to dissect the way one feels about a place. It might be because it reminds of the shingle beaches of Eastbourne, where I grew up. More likely it is the basic elemental nature of such a place. Whatever it is, it is sure to draw us back. Perhaps next time later in the year the night will be longer and we might actually make it up for first light. Who knows, maybe we’ll even be lucky enough to draw a magical silver spiky bass up the beach.