Fair of a Thousand Flies

Is there any event which shows the brilliant, diverse creativity of the art of fly tying as well as the British Fly Fair International? I very much doubt it. So much for this being a "niche" hobby- the fair has everything from rare traditional materials to modern synthetics, magnum to micro sized flies, not to mention a fantastic cast of international tyers.

What strikes you is the unique vision of each tyer and yet this is very much an event about sharing ideas, of being surprised and feeling inspired. And from a writer's angle there are countless strange and fascinating tangents to be explored here.

Perhaps we should begin with a tip of the hat to tradition however- I'm always staggered by the craftsmanship and beauty of the work on display such as Jörg Schuft's classic salmon fly pictured above. Just as fishing is about far more than catching fish the same can be said of fly tying- in this case elevated to pure art. In truth though the lines of practicality and aesthetics often blur- and an event like the BFFI is all about originality- sometimes useful, sometimes audacious. Here is Bulgarian tyer Stoyan Filipov's imaginative take on the life cycle of the frog- cute:

In my opinion, fly tying has never been a broader church. Definitely something to be celebrated whilst other branches of fishing become more and more predictable and coldly efficient. To take two ends of the fly fishing spectrum, we have hulking great pike flies and the tiniest trout flies- both are beautifully made, both have their place. Riny Sluiter of the Netherlands provides the "kingsize" snack below,
In the "fun size" category right at the other end however, small is most definitely beautiful for Andrew Baird with some delectable, tiny flies (his blog www.smallflyfunk.blogspot.com is also well worth a look):


Of course, besides the tyers themselves, the fly fair is also an unrivalled place for new and rare materials. Cookshill (check my links) are first choice for rarities and I couldn't resist taking notes on some of their weirder requests. How do you fancy polar bear fibres or condor? Parakeet is another current special- these birds are pests in London currently and some individuals have been using green fairy liquid bottles as decoys to lure them in! On the stall itself I rather liked the look of these rare Argus Pheasant wings- but at £50 maybe not eh?:

Perhaps the real surprise material for this year however was the Taser wire Caroline Emmet was using to make some cute bugs. No, I'm not losing it- the wire really does come from Taser gun wire used in training exercises. Better still, if you buy some all the proceeds go to the "Fishing for Heroes" charity to aid our ex-services people in need. With different plastic coatings this produces some interesting effects and attractive finishes ( see www.fishingclass.co.uk / www.fishingforheroes.net):


Another place of surprises, Chris Sandford's angling collectibles and antiques are always worth a look and another welcome surprise was meeting Bob James. Whilst some folks need a dodgy joke to get them grinning, these chaps were jovial enough already:

I always have a daft question or two for Chris regarding his curiosities- among which were various bugs and creature style flies and lures made from cork, fur and goodness knows what else, along with more traditional classics. Curiously, unlike the flies bought loose in todays tackle shops, patterns were once commonly sold in lots already tied to gut:

After a long day and a real tour around all the corners of the show, I just about had time to get those items of tackle on my list- odds and ends I hope will spice up my winter predator flies as well trout patterns. In the nick of time really- closing time sounded and I was absolutely knackered. Spare a thought for Keith Passant however (below), who will have (just about) completed a 24 hour tie-a-thon by the time this blog reaches you. Except that he forgot about the changing clocks and so it becomes a 25 hour session! All in the aid of another excellent cause- "Casting for Recovery" which reaches out to breast cancer sufferers and really demonstrates both the generosity as well as the theraputic value of our sport (www.castingforrecovery.org.uk).

Footloose Fishing

Whilst the public cliche of angling is of a dull, static occupation, nothing could be further from the strereotype than lure fishing. Miles of bankside covered, albeit not a lot to show for it of late- or am I being miserly? Perch and jack pike are usually pretty obliging on canals (Grand Western and a return to the Kennet and Avon recently), and what beautiful settings these are in autumn. In truth I'm quite happy walking and casting whatever the outcome- at least this way there's no wrestling with yourself over whether you picked the right spot in several miles of water.

Otherwise, night fishing has been the main option- if only to fit around work. Angling experts always tell us about the best conditions but lets face it, for the vast majority our fishing is dictated by where and when we get the chance. Even if that means at night. In the middle of the city. With creeps. With teen boozers falling down a grass bank. With assorted crud floating past. With a pissed bloke in a gym slip asking "what are you doing here?"- a question he should probably be asking himself. No pike sadly. Just other wild animals, although Rob Darby and myself are convinced that somewhere in these concrete waters lies a big surprise.

Lured to Reading/Monster chub!

As a bit of a canal fishing addict, I always look forward to trying a new length of cut. A long walk with Seb Nowosiad was the plan, with the aim of fishing ultra light lures and searching as much water as humanly possible along the Kennet and Avon canal not far from Reading. Little did we know the surprise we were in for!

We set off early on Sunday. Very early, eschewing sleep in favour of an early hours drive to our destination. Weird places passed at strange hours in search of a coffee-I wonder if anyone else has noticed that the winding trails of the Newbury McDonalds car park resemble the inner circles of hell itself, complete with spaced out freaks walking about with no shoes on. Makes us look relatively normal.
Blackness covered the water for a while- torch light on the water revealed what allegeddly makes the chub and perch grow big here; crayfish! The canal was beautiful at first light though. Trout streams and estate lakes are always more celebrated, but is there anything more beautifully English than a canal? We cast amongst narrow boats and cover, keeping mobile but all we found early on was a small perch. The beauty of fishing small lures however is that you just never know what you might hook next. What Seb first thought was a reasonable pike suddenly emerged as an incredible, huge headed chub!


It was an ancient looking chub- more awesome than pretty, with one or two old scars. I knew it was big, but never expected an insane 6lb 15oz registering after we had carefully checked the reading! We were both absolutely gobsmacked- it was immensely long, its huge mouth having intercepted Seb's lure (a small Kopyto "Relax" shad) with an almighty bang. An incredible, special capture- lucky perhaps, but there is nothing lucky about the way Seb astutely works a small jig. Man alive what a chub! Perhaps it isn't such a miracle however- the water here is thick with bleak in places.
Bizarrely it was otherwise a tricky days fishing and we couldn't believe the lack of action given just how fishy the water looked. A very cold night and bright, sunny conditions didn't help and it was getting dark by the time I finally managed to connect with a couple of pike:

A Night on the Town

Traffic hissing, dead leaves drifting. Boozed up yobs braying and the river licking past like black diesel: such are the strange sensations of friday night on the Exe slap bang in the city centre. There's probably a reason few people tend to fish here-and I was glad to be in the company of Rob Darby for a few hours piking.
If nothing else, the town sections are well lit; just as well as we left it late, rushing to the bank as the day gave out. With my last deadbaiting session way back in March, it had been a case of scrambling through various gear to tackle up for the evening. Quickly grabbed were some mackerel, wire traces and a tin of bitter for good measure.
For perhaps two and a half hours nothing happened, save odd twitches which were probably small eels. We avoided eye contact with one or two groups of young boozers and some truly idiotic comments from local neanderthals- but such is fishing in the city centre. Hence the obvious need to keep a low profile. Finally though, my pike float wavered amongst the dead leaves before sneaking under and away. The fish did little until it neared the bank- then suddenly taking offence and making the reel groan. A lovely pike to kick off the season, long and looking well fed:

Safety issues aside, a two man operation also made for much easier handling and a swift release after one or two snaps. A fine result after all those obligatory "you won't catch nuffink there" comments earlier on. The only other encounter of the evening was with a retired gent who told us about his salmon fishing and shooting exploits whilst using more foul language than the townies themselves in the process!
Urban, it might be then, but the Exe proved more productive than my other trip for the week, to Creedy in search of carp. Clear conditions didn't help- but I really did fancy some kind of action by fishing maggots and bread in subtle fashion. I like to go lighter here- the carp are so accustomed to boilies and bolt rigs and yet I always seem to catch more on bread and scaled down tackle.

Paul Hamilton also drew a blank for the carp, unusual for him here, as did the whole lake aside from one very small common. An hour of trying into darkness only yielded an eel to Paul's lobworm. Frustrating stuff- although a good deal safer than tackling the town.

Strange Quarries

Two unlikely recent leads of late. Both a bit of a longshot, if I'm honest. But I do love following up accidental clues- whether it's old cuttings, local rumours or simply that little water you drive past by chance. The first trial has been, quite literally, the pursuit of a strange quarry. A flooded quarry, to be exact, along the backroads of mid Devon. What might you find here? I had only the vaguest idea. With quite imposing depths even close in, I was glad to have brought a 6m float rod- a really useful tool for awkward waters. Typically, with the trout season just over, the first fish to take a maggot hookbait was a brown trout. All head and no finesse this one:

The shady banks looked tempting all around- but the next surprise was the less welcome sight of around two dozen canoeists. Oh Jackson Pollocks! I had to wrestle with myself to keep well mannered as my swim was churned up by flailing paddles and splashing kids. Non anglers just don't get how easily fish are spooked- as I'm sure most of you already know! When things had settled down however, a few more bites arrived and a pair of supremely dozy bream capped off a more peaceful end to the day:

Tenuous lead number two has been the pursuit of barbel in the tributaries of the River Exe. Whilst he adult fish are small in number according to local sources, small barbel are becoming a more frequent capture throughout the system. Russell Hilton joined me on a very muddy River Culm to take up the challenge as we tried meat, worms and other baits in the coloured water. Encouragingly, Russ took two little 6-8oz "barbelettes" not far from here this summer. Are these invaders breeding?

We moved onto the Creedy with a similar lack of any action- not even a dace come to think of it. So where are these Devon barbel? The trail quickly gets as murky as the rain swollen river itself. When the rain stopped however, I was surprised by just how mild the day was and just how many mini beasts were on the banks. An hour or so with a macro lens proved a good deal more entertaining than the fishing in the end. Sort of in my blood this kind of thing- my grandfather ran a microscope company in Manchester many years back and I spent a lot of my childhood looking at bugs and all manner of oddities from blood cells to bee stings at extreme close range. Here's a rather handsome grasshopper from the river bank. What a poser! He was even well behaved enough to let me set up a tripod and get right up to him: