Early Season Trout Fishing

After a fairly indifferent winter for fishing, spring couldn't have come sooner for me this season. A fair weather fisherman I am not, but by early March I've usually just about had my limit of dour days. Perhaps I set some tough challenges of late, but I have to admit I've been unsuccessful with efforts to catch both a big grayling and also a flounder on the fly. Time to move on.

The very thought of a sunny afternoon on a small river awakens a happy sort of naivety in me. I had planned on a trip to a shallow local canal earlier in the week, chasing rudd on the fly. But with the water disappointingly brown and few fish showing, I took a detour to Tiverton's River Lowman instead. It's a place that brings back a lot of happy memories in spite of its location, running through the dog-eared edges of Tiverton. It was here I captured the cover shot for Theo Pike's wonderful book on free fly fishing "Trout in Dirty Places." The curiously named Paradise Fields area also spawned an article for Trout and Salmon. It must be a couple of seasons since I last walked its length however.
I'm always a great one for early season naivety. I kid myself that it'll be warm, the fish will be rising and the water will be clear. But early season trout fishing is more often a recipe for pragmatism. Big insect hatches are not common and I often find that rather than copying nature, the best way to get off the mark is with a nice visible nymph in the right place.
The Lowman was still carrying some colour, making it tricky to spot the fish. But running a gold bead nymph through the tumbling tail of a pool by Amory Park, I had solid take on just my third cast and a pretty trout to open my account.



One saving grace of fishing in March is that the undergrowth is still quite bare, making it easier to get at those swims that will be a bit of a jungle by summer time. Most of the river can be fished from the bank too, although with a high sun you really have to duck and kneel into position to avoid sending the trout scattering. I've said it before, but there are days I curse being a conspicuous 6'5" tall. In a public setting it's not just down to you however, as there's always the chance that someone's dog will jump into the pool, or a misplaced clearance from someone's kickabout will send the trout packing.
On this occasion, I had the best of the fishing by taking a decent walk and getting beyond a couple of little inflows that were bringing muddy water into the mix. I didn't see a fish rise all afternoon in the end but another handful of trout, all in the 6-9" stamp, intercepted a small Hare's Ear or Copper John and gave some excellent sport on a four weight outfit.



It was only a couple of days later that I found the first hatch of the year, on a different stretch of urban river nearer to the east Devon coast. I say hatch, but a measly number of large dark olives never seemed to persuade the fish to rise. A beaded PTN fished under a Klinkhamer worked a treat however, anywhere I managed to get a clean cast without spooking the fish.
Quite a low water level and bright sun made them hard to fool at times. Perhaps the best areas were the shady edges of walls and boulders, or simply letting a nymph tumble through the headwaters of each little weir.
I might have had even more hits, had every dog owner in east Devon not decided to let their mutt go swimming. But you can't grumble at six beautifully marked fish from a free stretch of river, including a couple of spirited half pounders that had me convinced something much bigger had taken hold:



I'm well aware that some blog followers won't be into fly fishing, but if you've yet to try your hand at it I would highly recommend it. It's such an interesting exercise, you don't need much kit and there is a wealth of cheap or even free fly fishing these days. Fishing the fly definitely teaches you use the flow of the river rather than avoiding it. It also teaches you a lot about how to approach fish on clear waters and just how easily they can spook. For the sake of a few quid (my half day sessions for beginners start at just £80, with all the gear and flies provided) it really could expand your horizons. The site has more info: http://dgfishing.co.uk/guided-fishing/

In other news, I'm also going to be contributing lots of new and exciting material for Turrall this season as part of their online presence, with news, fly patterns, tips and more on the way. Do give them a like and a follow on Facebook and Twitter to get the latest, or check out Pinterest for photographic highlights old and new.

Bonus Time

Fishing is always such a subjective pastime as far as results are concerned. Weights, for example, are such a relative and often poor measurement of enjoyment. Would you rather catch a stack of fish from a heavily stocked water, for example, or a hard earned net of more realistic specimens from somewhere fairly wild? Canals are a point in case- unpredictable, fascinating places where it still represents some kind of achievement to winkle out a nice bag of fish. Russ Hilton, another big fan of more traditional waters, would no doubt agree. I had intended to take him fly fishing, but we decided to drop onto the Grand Western Canal for the morning first. We tackled up with bonus fish in mind, with relatively cute tackle and baits like caster, worm and hemp on the menu. Russ decided to use the pole, I went for a light waggler outfit. Sport was hardly hectic, but by feeding regular little helpings of bait several nice bonuses came our way. I usually feed a maggot line to keep me out of mischief, while letting a "bonus" line settle further out with regular doses of caster and chop. After some fun with small rudd down the middle, I was instantly rewarded casting a worm over my far bank line: I'm wondering if we should have weighed this perch in fact- it hardly matters, but it was a cracking fish for a little canal. Surprisingly the bite was quite slow and shy. It seemed to be worm that the better fish wanted, although it was such a cold start the swim had to be coaxed to life carefully rather than bombarded with bait. Russ was next to strike with a tench, also to worm. I wouldn't call it a red letter morning of fishing, but it was great fun and a typical slice of canal sport. The odd local chatterbox, twitchy rudd bites and some bugger's dog jumping in to finish off a swim that was already waning by midday. Bringing up the keepnet, I perhaps had a few more fish than I thought, not masses of bites but what was there was good quality. After an all day breakfast and a strong coffee to wake us up again, the second half of the day was spent fly fishing on the Lowman. A good decision it seemed, because after a quick casting lesson for Russ, we spotted several wily little trout and even some hatching olives. It's always a great pleasure to introduce another angler to something you enjoy so much yourself, and in no time Russ was pitching a dry fly into little runs and pools. A Beacon Beige or Klinkhamer brought them up a treat for some lively takes on the top and a stack of lively little trout, along with missed bites and the odd bit of tree. It took me right back to last season in fact, and my trip with urban fishing fanatic Theo Pike. The same spots were just as alive with trout and, lo and behold, the shopping trolley that features on my cover shot for Theo's new book is still exactly where it was before! With several entries on Devon waters, "Trout in Dirty Places" comes highly recommended for any of you looking for low cost (or no cost!) fly fishing.

Dirty Towns & Wild Browns

The search for exciting, interesting fishing takes us to some wild, unspoiled places. It also takes us to some crusty, bizarre locations. I'm quickly coming to the conclusion that unlikely fishing is often good fishing. The trout in and around the Exe and Lowman in Tiverton are a prime example. Grubby surroundings, yes. But even the shadow of recent pollution doesn't seem to have killed a surprisingly rich environment. Visiting angling scribe Theo Pike has a particular interest in these urban gems, having taken an active role in restoring the River Wandle close to his own home in London. Visiting family in Devon, it seemed the perfect opportunity to have a crack at some similarly townie trout. It was nice not to be the only nutter walking about town with a fly rod anyway. Judging by a few kick samples, you could hardly call these urban waters infertile:

We found the trout highly receptive. The only bother they usually get here is an occasional misplaced clearance from the football pitches, or the odd rusty spinner or beer bottle. Appearances can be so deceptive though. Reminds me of some advise my dad once gave me- "never pick a fight with an ugly person..?." No, it was something about judging books by covers. And this particular book, is such a world away from its rather shoddy cover. Amidst the usual debris and a staggering four shopping trolleys and a drowning flat screen TV we picked our way through a series of curious little pools and runs. Theo opted for miniature sedge patterns in 16s to extract some lovely brown trout, looking every inch wild. Most were in the small but pretty stamp, although one or two really took us by surprise.

Are urban trout any different to those of more idyllic places? It seems that they are well used to the odd passer by, so perhaps spook less easily- or at least take less time to settle again after a misplaced cast. It was a week of urban fishing in fact, with some rudd, bleak, chub, a skimmer and even a lost tench on the Bridgwater stretch of canal.

All good fun then. Not the most peaceful fishing exactly, but there's always a curious excitement about catching fish from places where it doesn't look possible. I even managed to produce a trout simultaneously as a passing chav issued the classic "you won't catch nothing in there" line. I was about to point out that this was grammatically incorrect, but didn't want a punch in the face and the fish seemed a decent enough reply. I guess that the moral of the tale is not to judge the fishing by the scenery then. In fact, a strange setting only adds to interesting fishing. My favourite snap shot from a few erm, "vibrant", urban locations has to be this one however, Theo Pike trying to spot rising fish beneath the hulking mechanical arm of a neighbouring scrapyard. It's fly fishing Jim, but not as we know it: