Happy Returns

If 2014 might have started in pretty grim, flooded fashion, I'm at least glad to report one or two reasons to be cheerful this week. The BFFI (British Fly Fair) is always an event I come away from feeling more inspired. As usual I had my little stand, my books, flies and the rest. Attendance was definitely up on 2013 and it was a pleasure to meet so many anglers. Whether I make a profit or loss at these events, I'm always totally buoyed by meeting readers who enjoy what I write and keen to have a good discussion. This is more rewarding than any pay cheque I have ever received.

Things were so positive at the show in fact, that I didn't get around as much as I might have. Nevertheless, there was plenty going on in my little corner of the show alone. One thing I love about the event is how friendly people are; you quickly get on with your neighbours and before you know it, you're taking turns to keep watch or go on a quick coffee or beer run after taking requests. I had great neighbouring stand this year with John Fairgrieve (google him!), the modern day equivalent of a taxidermist who makes vivid casts of fish from photos and measurements. There were all kinds of fish on his stand, from salmon to pike. This was my favourite though:


Perhaps that perch put a message in my head because it had been way too long since I'd done any classic perch fishing- or any serious fishing at all, coming to think of it! Also back on the warpath was Chris Lambert, who was also missing his fishing and keen to make up for lost time. The original idea was a quick stroll on the canal, but it quickly materialised into most of a weekend.
The Grand Western was tough work, but as beautiful as always. The first hunt was not for pike, but simply clear accessible water. Tyrone Norah also joined us through some big puddles in the country lanes- some of which seemed to reach quite high up on the side of his little car! Nevertheless, we made it through and enjoyed a laid back session. I always like the accidental photos from days on the bank- and this one captures the bond between Chris and his faithful hound Pep really nicely. When not picking fights with dogs about six times his size, Pep can be observed watching the water with an excitement he can't quite contain:


It was great just to be out, even though the fishing was something of a slog. Chris and Ty skipped between small jigs and drop shotting, but even this was hard work on the day. We managed just four jacks all afternoon. A fly fished fairly slowly proved just the tonic in fact. The best fly on the day was my own "Tango". Loud definitely seemed the way to go.

If that was just a quick cast, we decided to do a proper day at Stafford Moor on the Sunday. With my kit rather disorderly, it was a case of an early start and scrabbling around in the garage to summon what was required. As it turned out I needn't have worried though- it was one of those rare, sunny days out where everything just seems to fall into place.
That said, the perch fishers were out in force and the fishing wasn't especially easy. We tried prawns and small live baits to no avail most of the day, although it was fun to take turns on the pole to pass the time, catching skimmers, roach and rudd.
Ultimately, our winning strategy came from every-helpful fishery boss Andy Seery though, who suggested we have a crack at Pines or Woodpecker lake just after the end of Sunday's match. It sounded ideal- and from experience I know that pike fishing too can be excellent at the end of a match. All those groggy fish, along with free bait dumped in? Just has to be a good time for perch. And so it proved.


Just as the light started to dip, Chris had an absolute belter at just an ounce shy of three pounds! This was quickly followed by another just a little smaller. With conditions looking perfect suddenly, I ditched my worm rig and opted to pole fish a small live bait. Earlier on I'd caught some tiny roach in the landing net, and using the pole I lip hooked one of these and lowered it right under a fishing platform. After a few minutes of loose feeding pinkies, the float surged under and I struck into a good fish.
Fish like these are sensational fun on the pole and it was a wonderful battle. At 2lbs 6oz it was the best perch I've caught in a little while, and a great way to rekindle the fire.

Upper Tamar, Untamed

I've said it before in these ramblings, but more often than not the angler doesn't pick the weather- the weather picks the angler! You get a day or two free if you're lucky and go for it. I mean, why exactly would anyone pick two days of gales to try a spot of perch fishing on a big sheet of water? I was actually really pleased to take a trip in the company of Chris Lambert and Tyrone Norah on this occasion. Not only does it keep your spirits up on a testing session, there is the added benefit of tea and shelter.
In exchange I bought a tin of beer each for an afternoon tipple- best not to mention where I store my tinnies though eh? (yes, that's right, they also help keep the maggots cool!)
Spot number one on this wide open lake had to be abandoned, such were the extreme conditions. A shame because bream were stacked up in the "match" pegs. I was getting a skimmer a chuck- although it was literally impossible to stake out a keepnet. You would turn round to see net, fish and all literally being blown clear of the water, such was the wind.
Plan B was to seek more sheltered sanctuary and the fishing, while not exactly hectic, was decent. Perhaps I should have gone for more selective tactics though, because while I caught lots of skimmers, roach and the odd rudd, I was struggling to get through to the perch even on half a lobworm with fish like this about- not that I'd ever regard these as a nuisance:

Prawns did the damage in the end, at least for the odd better fish. These are a bait I've never really put my faith in, although I love eating them myself. I really should go back to the drawing board because they definitely sort out decent perch. Decent you say? Make that cracking perch- because that's exactly how you'd describe the best fish of the trip at 2-12, taken by Chris:

It was a fun but testing trip in the end. The British climate has a dark sense of humour I sometimes start to think. On the afternoon of day two everything finally settled and for about an hour it was lovely. The heavy feeder tackle suddenly seemed a bit excessive; the quiver tip kept trembling and the fish kept coming. A slightly better perch of a pound and a half or so also showed up amongst the silvers:
And then out of the blue as I was filling the feeder for another throw a little chunk of ice landed in it. Like a fool, I ignored the warning shot before three minutes later the hail pelted down and I got that stinging sensation as I ran for cover. Despite a weekend of natural disaster style weather though I had a nice bag of mostly skimmers and silver bream on each day. No giant perch, but I guess you can't have everything and being a fidget I do like simply fishing for bites. The crappy weather never left on the second evening and at around five it was like God had just flicked the light switch to "off" and announced "get yer coat and bugger off."Next time, I'm coming here on a calm, sunny day- that's for bloody certain!

Mullet of Insanity

You know how it is when you discuss fishing with folks who don't do it. "I don't think I could wait about for the bites," they say. "You must be so patient." Actually I'm not that patient. Patience? Too long without a sniff and I'm on the verge of becoming a patient- in the confines of some institution. Which is why I could never do what some dedicated souls do and routinely spend days on end for just one or two bites from monster fish. For every longer, slower session I also need that quicker hit. Roach, gudgeon, mackerel- they all count for me. Mullet have been the latest source of frustration. "The British bonefish" is a trendy phrase in some quarters. If you'll pardon my grudge, this is nonsense; sure they're powerful, but bonefish actually eat living things like crabs and fish, as opposed to just farting about, sifting in the mud for things you can't even bloody see. If mullet were like bonefish, Devon would be full of high end tourists. Dawlish Warren would have state of the art Orvis endorsed, glass-bottomed skiffs. You'd get stopped at Topsham or Seaton by travelling yanks with £1000 fly outfits, straining their eyes. "Gee- there goes a British Bonefish. Say, what's he eating?" Perhaps I'll answer that one for you- either a) Nothing, b) sludge or c) microscopic fragments of human despair. Of course, that never stops you from trying. And so I hit an estuary mark near Totnes, with my older brother and Adam Moxey also living in hope. "British bonefish" (there, I'm doing it now) were everywhere. We tried float, leger and even the fly. "Keep feeding, it'll happen," says older, wiser brother. In the end I tried a feeder and short hook link. I even managed to hook one of the damned things- until it bumped off the hook mid fight. Next time, I'm taking baited spinners- much more reliable. Apart from that lost fish then, the main entertainment came from one or two spectacularly small flounders (sorry, "British Giant Stingray") inadvertently hooked by Mr Moxey. Cute! Funny isn't it though, that the moment we find fish easy or plentiful we just as often dismiss them. Take the mackerel- a beautiful, obliging, athletic fish that is roundly dismissed. Usually I believe this is because we use beach casters and feathers. Take a light lure outfit and it's a different story: I had a cracking, confidence building morning from Hope's Nose, Torbay. Partly to grab some shots for a forthcoming Sea Angler feature- but also just to remind myself that I can, and do sometimes make a reasonable catch of fish! Whether it was a Dexter Wedge or float fished bait cast out, they hit it. So, an excellent catch of mackerel (sorry, "British Barracuda"). Scarcely any of the other anglers present seemed to speak a word of English, so we just grinned at each other and nodded. Thank you mackerel! Otherwise, trout have offered some gratification too. I hooked up with Tyrone Norah for some stream fishing and we were met with some awesome, classic mayflies, in spite of windy, drizzly bursts. A few trout of the modest but cute bracket followed- and Tyrone picked up the rudiments of casting amazingly well and quickly, even though we'd picked the worst conditions possible for his first crack at it. "British Summer" is almost as laughable as "British bonefish" at present; in fact I'm starting to wonder if both terms were invented as some idiot's idea of a joke. Never mind, we cast in hope. And when the weather does get a bit better you could do worse than chase a trout or two from as little as £5 a day on the "Westcountry Angling Passport" scheme. In the meantime, I am under a new kind of pressure. A nice kind of pressure- at least if you like tying flies. As well as preparations for the BFFI (British Fly Fair International) where I'll be signing books and talking about "Flyfishing For Coarse Fish", I've been snowed under by requests for flies for coarse fish. This is mighty encouraging- as are reports of others now eagerly casting flies for rudd, perch, pike and the rest for the first time. Another massive thanks to everyone who has bought the book- and I can only hope your own adventures will be a source of great pleasure. I hope to see some of you at the show in person- here are some current flies that have been picking off roach and rudd: fairly diddy little CDC emergers in black, olive or even red for the less than clear water I'm getting used to.