The Wye with Friends/ Fly Fishing for Chub

As the saying goes, it's better to do something late than never. You say to yourself "I really must have a crack at X this summer," but with rain clouds and autumn threatening you still haven't done it. Actually, the scale of delay was even more dramatic in the case of the Wye. My pal Russ Hilton had arranged a trip for him and his dad with me on this great river last Christmas, but owing to terrible weather in early 2014 it never happened. So there we were, hitting the road in late August for what must be one of the most overdue festive gifts of all time.

Still, after a daft o'clock meet up we started with a bang. We would have got the Wye even earlier, had my directions been up to scratch. Why oh why do two different places within 6 miles of one another both have to be so unoriginal as to go by the name of "The Red Lion"? Needless to say, we went to the wrong one first, before I got my bearings. Luckily there was no mistaking my favourite swim for feeder fishing. Russ and Dave were raring to go by this time, but we played it sensibly, baiting positively and letting the fish settle for over an hour before casting in. And patience was rewarded as Dave Hilton kicked off in style with a chub of over 4lbs. It wasn't fish a chuck, but the barbel also came along in dribs and drabs over the course of the afternoon and next morning. The chaps also got a special visit from Bob James, much to their surprise, who was on hand to provide tea, cake and some timely fishing tips (you can read more on Russ's blog "Tales from the Towpath"):

Even if it's for mates, a guide's main priority should be to get their guests catching before all else. I barely fished on day one, but enjoyed netting barbel and some terrific chub for my friends- or just soaking in the peaceful flow of the river during the lulls. Nevertheless, there was time for a cast on the second day. In contrast to "bait and wait", the fly can work instantly. You won't catch the numbers in one spot you will with bait, but there is nothing I love more than roaming about and casting a fly. Bob even snuck back for a go with some small lures as we spent a pleasant hour or two fishing side by side and comparing notes.

Bob was quickly into a couple using tiny spinners, before he had to depart while I got into action on the flies. A couple of fish came quickly after a good walk with polarising glasses as I kept a close eye on little weed rafts on the near bank. Approach is everything with these fish; usually a case of carefully sizing up each spot before approaching from a safe distance and presenting a good sized dry fly cast well upstream. As is often the case, anything big and juicy seemed to get them going. I got a little overexcited and pulled a Black Cricket right out of the gaping mouth of a cracker that looked four pounds plus! The next two fish were barely half that size but I made no repeat of this mistake. I might have got even more takes with a lighter leader, but 5lbs was as light as I was prepared to go around the rough stuff.


Fly fishing for chub is certainly not for the lazy on river like the Wye. Steep banks and tight spots must be negotiated, while I always feel the right way to proceed is to spend at least as long just looking for fish as you spend actually casting.

With a large perch sighted in one area, I also tried a few catapult casts with a tungsten bead streamer- but disappointingly I just couldn't get this lovely fish to make a grab:

There were other treats too: I lost a fine trout on a daddy longlegs, while I also spotted a cracking pike sunbathing in barely eighteen inches of water. While I would have loved to go for it, my seven weight rod and fluorocarbon leader would have rendered such a a feat virtually impossible, not to mention irresponsible. So I just caught her with the camera instead:

After that, perhaps the most interesting fly fishing of the day was with streamers. I've done a fair bit of this for chub, but the trip really emphasised the value of fishing downstream. In several spots it was the only way to cast towards a snag only accessible from one side. Casting downstream has big benefits: you can not only fish the fly much slower (often getting a strong pulse by little more than just holding the fly against the flow), but you also get really positive whacks and a high rate of hook ups, because you have no slack line to pick up. The size of fish seemed to increase too, with a Black Woolly Bugger doing more than its' fair share of the damage:

Ok, so such tactics aren't quite as tantalising as watching fish rise, but streamers seem to catch in a wider range of conditions. Even cool winds and a spot of rain didn't seem to stop the chub launching some gratifyingly brutal attacks. There is no need to fish too fine with streamers- and I often fancy the method for bigger fish, hence my set up was to fish straight through with 8lb fluorocarbon. They don't always fight super hard but rather fight dirty, lunging for snags, getting into the main river flow or trying to wrap you in weed. I was glad I used robust tackle anyway:

Why did I leave it so late this season to have a crack at the Wye? It beats me. I really wasn't keen to leave. I was even less willing after catching up with Russ and Dave in the afternoon, who had started getting bites from barbel again. It felt warmer too, and after a whole morning on my feet I fancied an hour on my backside I couldn't resist having a cheeky cast with the feeder in the main swim they'd been steadily baiting. It suddenly felt warmer too and after a lot of earlier climbing up and down banks and wading it was great to lose the coat and waders and sit on my backside. The rod didn't so much rattle as wrench over with my final bonus fish, while the lads added three others:

A few "last casts" were inevitable, before we remembered that human beings need things like food and water. I think my pals were as knackered and starving as I was anyway, and on the way home we devoured fried chicken like men who hadn't eaten for a week. Like our Wye trip I guess you could say we left it rather late. For anyone who still fancies a crack at this great river, there's still time to drop me a line though and the fishing can still be very good in the autumn. For details of our two-day "From Float to Fly" trip, as well as juicy, purpose made flies for chub, check out my site: www.dgfishing.co.uk

Summer Events

Just a quick extra slice of blog for me as I prepare for the CLA Game Fair, which I'll be attending on Saturday and Sunday with Turrall. Really looking forward to this, as it's always such a great event to meet fellow anglers. I'll be tying flies for coarse species and trying to keep the real ale to a minimum. Do Stop by and say hello if you're about.


I'm also excited to confirm some events for the summer. The Wye is very much on my mind and chub, like the five pound beastie above taken on a large dry caddis, are especially prolific and very willing to take a fly. The place always gives me a little shiver of anticipation- and barbel will also be on the menu. If it runs low, fly fishing is possible for the species, but even if it's high other methods will work. I'll be co-hosting two-day sessions with none other than Bob James, who remains an absolute maestro when it comes to river fishing (just watching him trot with a centre pin is a joy). The events will be for small groups of four to six anglers, with enough beautiful swims and time for everyone to enjoy some of the very best river fishing and try their hand at various methods. I can't wait.




In other news, I'll also be running summer sessions closer to home for local youngsters on both West Pitt Farm (Near Tiverton, 21/22 Aug) and South View Farm (Near Exeter, 28/29 Aug). The idea here is to run fun, affordable half day trips, where young anglers can learn key fishing skills and enjoy catching fish in a friendly environment (and yes, I'm also fully trained, first aid and CRB checked- I take my coaching seriously). More info to follow, but for more info or to book either of the above, just drop me a line (domgarnett@yahoo.co.uk 07804 240986).

Spring blues, bronzes and greens

The best place to wax lyrical about the "glorious unpredictability" of fishing is the pub, I'm starting to believe, as opposed to a chilly waterside where you sit there perplexed as to why sport is slow. Lately I seem to be putting in about double the effort to make any passable catches. And although taking a bit of a piscatorial kicking can be educational, I'm still longing for that day of effortless enjoyment to mark a new summer. Still, the tench have been conspicuously bubbling and rolling- as the dawn picture above shows.

The anglers have been somewhat better company than the fish and I particularly enjoyed sitting alongside Dave Sellick (above) to see how he gets to grips with tench on the Exeter Canal. One factor is his skill as a pole fisherman. Another is his adaptability- with the water level well down on our trip, he knew instantly that the fish would be further out in the safety of deeper water. His other secret weapon is his bicycle and trailer to reach remote spots. He took a cracking net of tench and bream, while stopping quickly to become "Bicycle Repair Man" (anyone remember the Monty Python sketch?) and sort a puncture:


I managed two decent bream in the end, but only by fishing at maximum reach with my 13m pole. I also took a tip off Dave to try his favourite hook bait. All the old angling books tell you dead maggots are only useful for eels, but they are a great bait for tench and bream too. The beauty of dead grubs is that they stay put. They're easy for any self respecting bream or tench to suck in and won't wriggle into weed or silt. "Three dead red" is Dave's mantra. It's probably the only hook bait you need for these bonus fish.

A long way further down the road, I also had the pleasure of an escape to Norfolk to meet with Bob James. The mere we fished was absolutely to die for in terms of setting, but also proved a real challenge.

With northerly winds and distinctly chilly evenings, my night fishing for carp drew a big fat blank. A shame, because the odd fish we spotted looked solid and beautiful things. Night fishing for me is one of the great undescribed areas of angling. It can be a murky, dense and thrilling experience; or something more akin to psychological warfare over cold biteless nights. Why is it that most angling writers say so little about it? Perhaps they lack the bravery to describe the despondency of insomnia and inevitable blanks, while the successes are reduced to statements like "I was over the moon" "it was scale perfect" etc, etc. It's a bit like when you see the winning goal scorer interviewed on cup final day who says "I've hit it first time and luckily it's gone in the back of the net." Why do they never say: "I absolutely lashed it into the goal. It nearly ripped the bloody net out. I thought my heart would explode!" Answers on a bream.
No sudden explosion of joy for me on this trip where the carp were concerned. Thank goodness for other species in fact, because otherwise it would have been a very long trip for not a great deal. The mere I fished with Bob was delightfully peaceful, with kingfishers, owls and a staggering amount of insect life. I also caught this slow worm relaxing by the path:

Bob's little terrier Cassie also noticed the rustling in the grass, and is popular with the land owner for her skill at removing moles. A safer quarry than the badgers she also likes to pester in any case:
The tench were especially receptive in the morning. Bob uses little else for them than 10mm boilies and pellets these days, with liberal helpings of groundbait to prime an area. In fact, it wasn't exactly Mr Crabtree tenching. He favours fairly deep areas rather than directly in those tempting looking margins, as the tench can then be persuaded to extend their feeding well into the late morning.
We also had a try for bream and I put my "Bait Factory" testers hat on once again to lay down a good bed of feed. You might have had to force me at gunpoint to use a spomb and introduce lashings of particles not so long ago, but I'm beginning to see the value of accurate, fairly heavy baiting these days.

I don't know what it is about bream, but as with pike they just seem to agree with me. And unless it happens to be three in the morning I'm always happy to catch them. I even like the rather sleepy, ponderous way they fight on light tackle.

Piking with Stars

Trying to make ends meet as a fishing writer is not the most glamorous occupation for ninety percent of the time. Going fishing for a living it definitely isn't. I write more words each year than I ever did during my English degree, to say nothing of the thousands of photographs I take each month. But there are odd perks. Getting to fish with with famous personalities on some unique waters is one such treat. I've met Chris Tarrant before on the banks of the Test, but it's still a little surreal to see someone you grew up watching on TV stroll along the bank and say "Morning Dominic, anything doing?" Chris has been a keen pike angler longer than I've been alive. It would be unfair to think of anyone who has pursued the species to the ends of the earth as a "celeb who dabbles in a bit of fishing." He has been everywhere from Western Ireland to Canada- and had some great pike stories to tell. So was there any reward for getting up at silly o'clock and being first on the water? I had vowed to spend the day pike fly fishing- but did afford myself a first hour with a sardine in a big marginal slack. A rip roaring take just minutes in turned out to be my biggest ever trout at eleven pounds twelve ounces! You feel a bit of a fraud catching a fish like this on a sardine- but there you are: Chris then turned up and I switched to the fly while he cast an old school spoon as we wandered in search of further action. I had no objections to having a good chat and playing the role of ghillie- but the pike had other ideas. As Bob James caught up with us to try for some chub and grayling, I was playing the first of several fish that took a liking to one of my larger pike flies. It was hardly bite a cast fishing, but exciting nonetheless- perhaps the best fish of the day was one that bulged after Chris Tarrant's spoon but wouldn't make a last second grab. Fish have no respect for fame or status- and in this respect we're all equal on the bank. That said, Chris has taken pike that any angler would be proud of on both rivers and still waters, with a best of over thirty pounds. From his early dabblings on the Thames, to more recent trips to Chew I got plenty of interesting quotes as well as a very enjoyable day out. We just couldn't get the big one in the end however. Bob James was unwilling to part with any of the grayling he was catching further down; in fairness the smaller ones were around the pound mark and it would have been sacrilege to contemplate slinging one of them out on treble hooks. In other news, I've been making the most of wet weather by getting back to the fly tying vise. Below are part of a series of classic Spiders (or "Soft Hackles") destined for one of the American magazines. I may love fishing in Britain, but the wages are generally fairly pitiful for a writer and I'm honoured to contribute in the States, where readership numbers and standards of writing are very high. They also love their fly fishing and it's great to write about British flies and traditions to a different audience.

Guess who?

Winter has finally arrived with a flurry of snow. Great flakes of it are tumbling down, to the extent where (if you squint) Exeter might resemble part of Norway, only with crap architecture. It's probably just as well I've already got my recent fishing and writing done for now. The highlight has been catching up with the chap above.
Who is it, you're wondering? Somebody who is probably about ready to come out of hiding after a tough few months. Yes, Bob James. As unwise as he was to be caught fishing on June 14th, the backlash has been fairly ridiculous. This is an angling legend and a gentleman we're talking about, not Lance Armstrong. Nevertheless, the decent thing to do is to apologise, and I also got some candid comments from Bob, which you can find in this week's Angling Times. Is it worth bothering to fish in bitterly cold, snowy conditions? It's a fair question. Today I'm not so sure. Pike, chub or grayling are three just-about-possibles. Sometimes you have to literally trundle the bottom with a fly or bait, virtually dragging it into the mouths of fish. Here are some "keel nymphs" for just that job from my slot in this Month's Fly Fishing & Fly Tying magazine: Failing the grayling on bugs, I think I'm happiest trotting if it's just some bites I want. Bread is perhaps king for this if the water is cold and clear. No liquidised stuff and tiny punches lately, but a more old fashioned pinch on a size 12 accounted for this nice roach: The only other note for Westcountry anglers is to put a couple of dates in the diary. We have Pete Gregory talking sharks (both salt and freshwater!) on the 29th at Mill on Exe (7:30 start). I'm also thrilled to say we'll have top eel man and colourful character Barry McConnell down for Feb 26th. The last I heard from him, he'd caught an eel in 100ft of water in freezing conditions. Now that's dedicated angling!

Wandering the Wye/ Barbel on the fly

Britain may be a small island in the grand scheme of things, but sometimes you forget just how fantastically diverse our waters are. The River Wye couldn't be a more grand contrast to my favourite little streams of the Westcountry. It's also home to some phenomenal shoals of chub and barbel. I had been itching to return, in particular to try with a fly rod for the barbel. If anyone could put me on the right trail- or indeed explain the timeless fascination of this great Welsh river- it was Bob James.

Bob has fished here as long as I've been alive- and while modern specimen type tactics work, he's an even bigger fan of more intimate methods. Clear water and a pair of waders make anything possible- trotting, touch legering, free lining or you've guessed it, a fly rod. In fact the early season is ideal for a moving bait or fly, as the barbel are still highly active. What really surprised me was Bob's talk of just how aggressive these fish are- not only will they literally barge chub off a bed of feed, they will actively predate on minnows. Needless to say, with a good dose of loose feed it didn't take long to connect with some solid fish.

With the river looking beautifully sunny and wild, I knew this was going to be as good an opportunity as I'd get to tempt a barbel on a fly rod. The sheer size and pace of such a big river can be a challenge- and I found even heavy patterns needed an extra pinch of tungsten putty to trundle the depths.
But at last, here was a river not hopelessly high or muddy, but dropping and looking bang on! I could see fish moving in knee deep water and doing that classic rolling movement near the bottom. Could this actually be game on for a change? After all my maddening attempts previously, I was praying my luck might finally change.
It was to prove a nerve-wracking afternoon to put it mildly. I had a couple of fish refuse- or simply not see the fly- point blank, and was wondering exactly what it might take. YOu also have trouble with currents, fishing trout style and trying to get the fly well upstream- far better to get close and aim across or even slightly downstream.
Eventually, I managed to guide a heavy Walker's Mayfly nymph into the path of the next fish, literally stumbling over the bottom. This time, the fish slid across to look. The nymph was gone, I struck and everything went solid. Fish on!
When you finally manage to hook one, you might be forgiven for wondering what's going on with such fish. These barbel are downright stubborn fighters- hugging the bottom one moment like an immovable object, powering off the next!
The fight must have lasted a few minutes but felt like longer. Bob came with the net, but each time the fish got closer, it seemed to rage off again.

A barbel on the fly of almost dead on seven pounds is an absolute dream come true! What can I say, other than that I am still in shock!

Tea on the Test

Having already seen the quality of winter coarse fishing on the Test, I was just as excited to make a return visit with Bob James and Chris Tarrant to see this famous river in all its spring glory. A little fishing hut beside one of the rivers many pools is a pleasure in itself. Exclusive or otherwise, water as tasty as this quickly turns grown men into excited kids- and you can be sure many of the best, worst and most optimistic plans are hatched over a brew in these surroundings.

Fishing goes back to the 1300's on the estate where we visited, but the management and use of the water stretches back to the Romans- who can't have failed to make use of the ridiculously clean, rich water which was later also used to produce crisp new bank notes. And the salmon were once so plentiful that the gentry used them to build fences (ok, that last bit is bollocks):

The Test also produces crisp, classic looking fish of course- and in these more enlightened times, coarse fish have been allowed to thrive besides the trout and salmon. Still, there's something quite amusing about watching anglers on the most hallowed trout stream in the world commenting "cor, that looks like a cracking place to trot for roach!" And why not? It all adds variety- not to mention some more affordable fishing later in the year. For the coming months however, it is the trout which provide the obsession.

The day was so hot it was better for pictures than fishing however, although James and Tarrant had a few casts in the course of their recce. The air was thick with grannom sedge in places- almost so that the fish had too much choice! Still- the Test is one of those places which is so beautiful it would be difficult not to come away feeling the better for it.

Notes from the Riverbank with Tarrant & James

This weeks highlight has been a very surreal trip indeed. Going fishing with not only Bob James but Chris Tarrant is hardly your average day out. In fact, throw in the Nelson Mandela and the Irish Football team and you might have the start of a very strange gag. But there they both were, brewing tea and discussing rivers and roach, baits and methods. In actual fact though, fishing is a great leveller and once you forget the screen presence of these two characters they are simply a pair of enthusiasts who enjoy a day out. Well, almost!

The River Test looked wonderfully inviting as always, but for me this was a day when words and pictures were the priority, rather than casting a stick float or swim feeder. Both these chaps have fished a vast array of waters, but the Test still takes some beating. "It's so beautiful you almost feel like a poacher" confesses Chris.
At the start of the day had wondered whether the two would act like perfect gentlemen or whether the air would be full of banter and gamesmanship. It quickly poved to be the latter. "I taught that Bob James everything he knows" was Mr Tarrant's opening shot. Funny that, because I'm sure Bob swore exactly the same.

The day was a relaxed one for our anglers, a quietly frantic one for a writer aiming to capture everything from Bob's insights on river fishing to Tarrant's own love of the sport, from winter pike to far flung adventures overseas. Like me, he also spent a while as an English teacher, discovering that fishing was one of the few things to interest disaffected school boys. Talking of school boys, perhaps my abiding memory of the day will be these two trying to prod their hapless photographer with rod tips and grinning like they should know better:

The Test and it's carriers are full of history and this day was no exception. By one of the Test's many beautiful riverside houses we saw a great eel trap, where in better days for the species men would work well into the night knee deep in the creatures. More strange still, we found a communal outdoor toilet with three neighbourly seats all in one little room. I thought this sort of thing was mainly confined to the Westcountry? Fairly disturbing!


And amisdst all these distractions were beautiful dace and grayling, fine chub and some beautiful if accidental trout. I must say, Chris Tarrant held his own pretty capably on a day of many species and it was perhaps only Bob's late catch that won the day in the shape of a beautiful roach of well over two pounds. So, two stars, some truly idyllic waters and a fantastic catch; how's that for a day's fishing?

On the Test with Bob James

This week's relentlessly wet weather could do little to take the gloss off an outing featuring one of Britain's most distinguished anglers on the banks of the celebrated River Test. It's a far cry from Tiverton Canal, that's for damned sure. Although better known for its outrageously fine (and bloody expensive) trout fishing, this historic river and its carrier streams are also home to some cracking coarse fish, with roach a real passion for Bob.

Besides my own presence on the bank, Mr James was also being filmed for part of a new series which sees him tackle a succession of idyllic locations. So much for pressure though- in spite of the dreary, tricky conditions his experience and humour shone through the drizzle.

Inevitably for the Test, trout crashed the party at times. But eventually Bob connected with some flawless grayling, as well as fit dace and chub. But where were those roach? It wasn't for any lack of technique. Bob is in his element trotting a stick float, putting a new Hardy Marksman rod and 4" Centrepin through their paces (well, you didn't expect Bob to get his tackle from Argos did you?).

I certainly learned a great simply by observing. In fact, I believe that if I can impart even half of my own lesson here into some forthcoming material, I'm sure it'll be a gem for river anglers. In between shooting I even managed to do some trotting myself; the fish here are beautiful and a juicy chub was perhaps the highlight from the sort of swim I usually only dream about.

Back to centre stage however, the roach were playing hard to get. A move to the main River Test saw greater success with Bob's target species, simply beautiful roach of bright silver and impossibly red fins. And as for the finer points, well you'll just have to wait for the feature!

In several hours of rain I got the devils own soaking but still enjoyed every minute in Bob's company on a river that stirs the heart even in the doldrums of winter. Something to fill my daydreams perhaps next time I'm stuck in traffic on the "as seen in Crimestoppers" side of Exeter.