Last of the Mayfly bonus

June 10, 2021 at 1:34 pm

An evening visit to the tiny Hampshire chalk stream, the River Whitewater, gave  me a last chance to fish the Mayfly this week, hot sunny days and warm evenings extending the hatch. Arriving before 7 pm, the sun was still streaming across the corn field as I made my way upstream and the Mayfly were already dancing on the breeze.

A Mayfly on my arm

Without waders and only wellies, my fishing would be limited to fishing from the bank, but I already knew where I would start first, far upstream toward the weir, where I had lost fish the week before. So I thought anyway, the sound of a big fish crashing into a Mayfly stopping me in my tracks.

Looking back downstream I could see possibly two fish rising with abandon, attacking the latest hatch. Minutes earlier when I had passed the area, there was no sign of fish, or Mayfly on the water, but that is the potluck of fly fishing in early June. By the time that I had travelled back, all was quiet again and I positioned myself as close to the river as I could. Behind was a tree, while upstream were reeds and a clump of cow parsley, with willows along the opposite bank.

Suddenly a fish rose beyond the clump of cow parsley, then another. There were definitely two good fish there, but the cast was impossible. After  extending my landing net to about 8 ft, I went for it, making horizontal false casts past the bush, but the Grey Wulff landed nowhere near the spot. The flow was too fast to avoid the fly dragging and I was lifting and casting. The trout were in a frenzy and so was I. Suddenly the line went tight as I lifted off and chaos ensued as the trout imitated an out board motor, hidden from view. I assumed that I was going to lose this fish in the following seconds, but stayed with it, relieved when it surged upstream, across the shallows. The monster had transformed into a pound plus stockie and I had gathered my senses to take control. It now burrowed in the reeds on my side, heading downstream toward a deep root lined hole, letting the 5 lb tippet and my rod take the strain, it turned back and rolled on the surface. I sat down and stuck out the heavy ali landing net into the flow and the trout obliged by swimming in. Phew! I was shattered and on the verge of slipping in on the sloping bank. I managed a couple of quick photos, removed the mangled barbless fly and slid the net back to the river for the trout to recover, then swim off.

Not the best image, but better than the one with my finger over the lens.

Waiting for a knee replacement, regaining my feet was a struggle, but helped by my sturdy landing net I managed it and continued upstream, rises were few and far between, most coming from beneath bushes, no doubt from previously hooked fish. My Grey Wulff was now changed for a smaller white Mayfly, more of a match for those around me and having reached the deep run, that had been full of fish last week, I began working my fly upstream, but with no rises, or takers.

I moved up to the next section, where a fish rose close to the bank behind a bush and I slid down the bank to stand on the marshy bottom. With overhanging trees and standing cow parsley, this was another difficult cast, but as I edged closer, the fish rose again. I managed to get the fly behind the bush and it came up and I missed the take. The line now became entangled in the cow parsley on my side and as I sorted it out the fish rose again. I tried and missed again. I’m obviously losing my touch. I hadn’t put it down, as it rose again. A few more casts and the fly fell right. It came up and third time lucky, it was on. Not a big fish, I drew the wild brown trout back as it tumbled on the surface, then it was off the hook. As I said earlier, I’m losing my touch.

Getting back up to the top of the bank taught me a lesson, don’t try that again until post operation. I continued upstream, to the weir, but despite plenty of Mayfly about, there were no more rising fish and I turned back. The sun was now behind the trees and a few fish were rising toward the road, but apart from the occasional pause to consider taking them on, I made my way back contenting myself with the fact that I had landed a lucky stockie and for once had not lost any flies.

 

 

 

 

Wild trout respond to the Mayfly on the urban river

June 4, 2021 at 7:46 pm

My first evening visit to an urban trout stream paid off this week with a hectic hour of action, until heavy rain forced me to take shelter, before finally giving up. I had left home in bright sunshine, but the sky was black on the horizon. I had not heeded the forecast of isolated showers, keen to get to the river while Mayfly were still flying, trouble was that it isolated over me!

Walking over the bridge at 7 pm, I could see Mayfly in the air and trout rising upstream. My rod was already set up with a small White Mayfly and made my way past the bus stop to begin fishing from the green. I had just needle knotted on a new 11 ft weight forward leader and was keen to see how it performed. Casting up to a rise, I was impressed to watch the leader punch out, then gracefully float down to the surface. Second cast a fish rose and a small trout was on, but then buried in the weed. Easing the pressure, but keeping up the tension, saw the trout swim out of the other side and the battle commence, until beaten it drifted into my landing net.

Due to the barbless hook, this 8 inch wild brown was quickly returned unharmed to swim off strongly against the flow, although the artificial Mayfly had not survived the head shaking fight and required replacing. Fortunately I had a duplicate and was soon ready to fish again, but the hatch was over, with just the occasional fly floating down.

Suddenly the river was alive with rises again, as another flurry of Mayfly began lifting off, skidding across the surface. Smaller fish were launching themselves out of the water as they chased their prey. On the far side, a larger trout was smacking at the flies, sometimes clearing the surface, its golden flanks flashing as it turned. Protected by an overhanging bush, it remained close to the edge ignoring my imitation each time it drifted by.

Measuring out another couple of feet of line, I managed to bounce the fly off the bank and watched with anticipation as it drifted under the bush. Plop! The fly was gone and the line tightening as I lifted the rod. It boiled on the surface and I stripped line to pull it from the roots. My 7 ft rod took the strain as I rewound the spare line onto the reel, only for a sudden run to strip line off it again, back to the far bank. I could see that this was a good fish for this small river and had my landing net ready, when it dived toward a bank of weed close to my side, but thankfully side strain pulled it round and after a run downstream it was on its side and in the net.

I am afraid that too much adrenaline had caused camera shake and this was the best one that I took, but it is still a pretty fish, these wild trout fat with their Mayfly bonanza.

By the time that I had tied on a small yellow Mayfly, it was spitting with rain, but the trout were still rising and after a couple of missed fish, I moved down to where I heard a better trout rising just upstream of an overhanging horse chestnut tree. It was only rising occasionally and waited for it to come up between the far side and a long raft of weed. Making rapid casts to avoid line drag and the tree, the yellow fly was like a beacon, drifting a yard then being extracted at the last second. The fly was becoming waterlogged by the rain and I blobbed drying powder over it, making false casts, before watching the fly float down, travel a foot and disappear. Wham! I was in again as it ran straight down under the tree, forcing me to keep the rod flat as it fought unseen, the rod bucking and bending. This was not as big as the last and was soon playing it on the reel, bringing it out from cover on the surface to the net.

The light had gone, but the rain was now beating down and after releasing my last captive, I headed for cover and the comfort of my car, then home.

My evening had been saved by a speedy delivery from Barbless Flies, www.barbless-flies.co.uk, a friendly Yorkshire company with the personal touch, that supplied my new leader and fly floatant powder.

Mayfly slow to hatch on the River Whitewater

May 27, 2021 at 2:29 pm

Cold winds and torrential rain have kept the brakes on the annual Mayfly Hatch on the River Whitewater this year, but with the promise of warmer weather to come, prospects could change for the better by the weekend. Getting down to the river on the first decent afternoon for weeks, I stood on the road bridge looking upstream hoping to see a few Mayflies hatching, or fish rising, but was disappointed. The river was still slightly coloured and it looked like more rain was on the way.

This was only my second visit since a cold windy open day in April and had tied on a small yellow Mayfly pattern in my optimism. At this time last year, the Hatch was in full flow and I set off upstream in search of rises. A few hundred yards on, the unmistakeable splashy rise of a decent trout, then another further up got my heart racing and I managed to get down into the shallows to wade the last few yards. On the waiting list for a new knee, this was an effort, having to make do with wellies instead of waders.

There was a strong downstream wind adding to the line drag and I needed an accurate cast to reach the first fish under the left hand bank. My back cast caught in the alders above my head and I lost the fly. By the time that I had tied on a replacement fly, the short hatch of a dozen flies was over and my imitation was ignored.

Continuing upstream small yellow mayfly were fluttering across the river and another trout was feeding close to a sunken branch. From the high bank I could see a wild brown of about 12 oz and measured my casts, the first few ignored, while the trout continued to feed as a steady supply drifted down. On my next cast, the trout moved toward the fly, then turned to the right to slurp in one closer, before darting to the left to scoop up mine. It was on! Initially diving beneath the branch, I pulled it out, only for it to start tumbling on the surface, coming close to my bank and the shallows. I had no control and reached forward with my already extended landing net, while the the trout continued to thrash on the surface. It came off and darted back to safety. Not a big fish, but it would have broken my duck.

This part of the river was always a good nursery for juvenile trout, while holding a few rod benders, that only come out from their deep pools, when the Mayfly are on the water. There were still a few crayfish nets secreted along the banks and it is hoped that the reduced number of crays will result in more surviving wild fish.

I continued upstream to the weir, but with no sign of rising fish, I tried my luck with my Blackdevil nymph, casting to likely holding areas and runs.

Casting up between the post of a berm, the line arced round into the eddy as it passed, but I lifted into thin air, the weighted nymph flying back. Too late, or too early? A missed fish all the same.

I saw one more crashing rise on the way back, plenty of fly life of all sizes, but few mayfly. Crossing the road, I entered the next beat, seeing another member Steve wading up to his waist, casting up under the bridge, where fish were rising. He reported netting a 2 lb fish above the bridge at the weekend, which was encouraging news. I continued down to the next pool, seeing several rises among a hatch of small white Mayfly. Removing the nymph, I tied on a bodied Mayfly and cast among the rising fish, only for the fly to be attacked by a small fish, which I missed. A few more tries and a small chub of six inches took a flying lesson before falling off. Move on.

More Mayfly were now in the air and I watched a big trout sucking them in from an eddy among the safety of roots and a fallen tree. If I could get the fly in there, it was unlikely that I would be able to get it out. The sound of another fish rising further down saw me enter the river again, almost falling in, when I used a dead tree for support, it crumbling in my hands as I gripped it. Fortunately I avoided a soaking, my heavy aluminium extendable landing net coming to my aid as I stumbled.

I have had many fine trout from this pool in the past and as I waded through the shallows, a good fish rose among the roots on the left at the top end. Keeping close to the edge, I cast to the area. The fly sat for only seconds before it was engulfed and I was playing a hard fighting trout, that was charging toward the roots. I have been lulled by catching chub lately, this was no chub, the power of a trout is up several levels. It turned and rushed back, rolling in the shallows, before another long run. With a dark back and silvery sides, I was reminded of a seatrout as it rolled again. Tightening down the line, it fought in diminishing circles, until it turned on its side and drifted back to my net.

A sleek wild brown trout of about a pound and a half, that rewarded persistence, a beautiful fish that my camera could not do justice to. The barbless size 12 fell out once the pressure was off and I held the trout facing upstream, until it swam back out of the landing net. Another member Richard had stopped, while I waited for the trout to recover and he extended a welcome hand to pull me up the bank to save my aching knee. My cancelled operation would have been a few days before, so good came of it in the end, as I would not have been able to catch this fine fish, if it had gone ahead.

River Whitewater work party progress

March 21, 2021 at 1:42 pm

With only a couple of weeks before the 2021 trout flyfishing season opens on the River Whitewater, members of Farnborough and District AS were busy this weekend getting their three mile stretch of the Hampshire chalk stream ready.

The team split in two, half clearing the banks and trimming back over hanging trees, while others carried out much needed work constructing a safe bridge over a steep sided, often water filled drainage ditch.

Early in the day, a hen mallard flew out from the bankside undergrowth as it was being cleared, revealing a nest with a dozen eggs.

Work stopped on this section of bank and the mallard was soon back on her clutch of  eggs.

The Farnborough club engaged a commercial crayfish fisherman last year, who has been been setting nets along the river, at one time collecting 50 kilos a week. Several nets were in place along this stretch, one that we examined having over a dozen large signal crayfish trapped waiting for collection.

It is hoped that once the numbers of this invasive species are under control, the wild trout spawn will have a chance to develope and grow. When I first joined the flyfishing section of the club, juvenile wild brown trout were present in large numbers, often at nuisance levels, but now they are a rare, but welcome sight. To complement the wild trout population, the club will be stocking a limited number of triploid brown trout throughout their section of the river.

Walking downstream to view the new bridge, the farmer had been busy adding to his stock of wood for sale, while also erecting 300 yards of cattle fence, again without consultation with the club, who have held the riparian fishing rights to this water for over 50 years. If he had consulted the club, we would have asked for the inclusion of a couple of access gates through the barbed wire fence, now we will have to wade across the river, or approach form downstream at the stile. The only good thing about the fence is that it will keep the boisterous young bullocks, that are brought on at the farm, well away from the anglers.

The new bridge at the stile was a work of agricultural art, with heavyweight railway sleepers bedded down into the ground over the ditch.

I can testify that the new sleepers are firmly held in place by steel brackets, while a wire mesh covers the woodwork giving a non slip surface. This ditch has ben a problem for years. Too wide to jump, with sides too steep and slippery to climb. The Farnborough club’s new management team are to be congratulated for their enthusiasm and ongoing improvements, which will result in a better angling experience for the paying members.

 

 

Looking forward to a complete 2021 trout fishing season

February 28, 2021 at 4:56 pm

A bright, but frosty morning greeted second planned River Whitewater work party of the year this weekend, the first having been cancelled due to a local Covid 19 outbreak. Our first sight of the Hampshire trout stream brought a shock. The farmer had cut down the riverside alders downstream of the farm bridge, extending down to the copse.

As we had passed through the yard, we had seen crates of freshly cut logs ready to be put in a barn for drying out, fuel for the ever growing domestic wood burner trade, now part of the farm’s regular income. The Farnborough club have the riparian fishing rights over this water, but the farmer does what he likes on the banks, including fences. I just hope that he leaves the stumps where they are to sprout new growth and offer bolt holes for the trout. More light getting through to the riverbed, will also help weed growth and provide cover.

These images were taken before last season, this one up to the bridge.

This image was from the copse looking back to the farm. All these alders are gone.

We can only look forward and plans are already underway to transplant ranunculus weed from a lower section of the river into what is now barren gravel.

From the farm bridge we walked upstream to begin clearing the banks, while cutting back far bank  brambles and overhanging branches, that had claimed flies during last year’s shortened season. It was good to see that the wild trout population had been busy creating spawning redds along the riverbed at intervals. We hope that the efforts of a couple of commercial crayfish trappers will have had an effect on the chances of the juvenile wild stock, with reports of 50 kilo hauls of signals a week up to the autumn.

This area benefitted from a much needed trim, with far bank branches and brambles cut back hard along the deep run that spills out from a deep pool top centre of this image.

Cutting back this bank was hot, back breaking work in the late February sunshine, but team work cleared the area ready for the new season, while with the aid of chest waders, the far bank head of the pool was made more accessible to a cast fly.

This pool has held several good fish for me in the past, including the over wintered beauty below.

In three hours, dead trees washed down by the floods had been removed, access points to the river improved and banks cleared, but more important was the fact that we have a fresh start to look forward to following a year of uncertainty.

Spring sunshine in the English countryside. What more could you want?

 

Fishing in and out of Lockdown

February 2, 2021 at 9:15 pm

Kept at home with Covid travel restrictions and no end in sight, I have concluded that it will be a long time before I can travel to my Farnborough and District Club waters, where I am Vice President, driving fifteen miles from my home not considered a reasonable distance to travel for exercise.

As a fly fisherman, I was first attracted to the Club to fish the tiny Hampshire chalk stream, that is the River Whitewater. Only seven miles in length, the club has the final 3 miles to where it joins the confluence of the River Blackwater, and is classed as a mixed fishery, with wild brown trout on fly fishing gear from 1st April until 30th September, with a crossover of methods with coarse fishing from the 16th June, until 15th march.

When the first Lockdown ended in mid May, I drove to the River Whitewater with my fly rod to take advantage of the annual Mayfly hatch and was fortunate to find a large over wintered brownie smacking into a hatch of green Mayfly. Being early in the season, the flies were hatching intermittently and this trout was making the most of those on the surface. I waded up along the bank until I was within casting range, a gusting upstream wind making placing the fly difficult, but after several casts, the fly drifted onto the surface just above the trout’s nose and it took. The 7 ft No 3WT rod bent double on the take and after a ten minute fight, the 22 inch trout was on the bank.

In early June I booked in to fish Shawfield Fishery, the Club restricting numbers to 15 people a day due to the Covid regulations. Opting to fish the small lake with the pole and the bread punch, I fed a heavy mix of liquidised bread and ground carp pellets in balls 7 to 10 metres out, plus a couple more in close alongside a bed of lilies. Small rudd were a nuisance, but tench moved into the swim and I landed four between 3lb and 4lb 8oz, my 12 – 18 red elastic coping well with the hard fighting tench. This was the biggest of the afternoon.

During August, just as we were beginning to think that life was returning to normal, the Club carried out a much needed work party on the badly overgrown bottom stretch of the River Whitewater at Ford Lane, opening up several swims for coarse fishing. A few weeks later I travelled light with just a rod and a landing net to try one of the new swims, catching roach on the bread punch, until a pike took one of my fish, the pike finally snagging me in some roots. Trotting worms on the stick float brought a succession of  perch, while a switch back to the punch put more roach and some chub in the net, before the pike returned to fish off the day.

The River Blackwater at Camberly club stretch has proved a perfect venue for bread punch roach on the stick float, but this Autumn after the second Lockdown, I found that the chub are growing on quickly, taking five hard fighting chub and some quality roach on the stick float with punched bread on the hook.

Now in 2021 the year ahead beyond the third Lockdown looks to be one of continuing restrictions, which I hope will be lifted enough to allow wider travel to some of my favourite fishing haunts.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lockdown 3 Latest. Angling reinstated as a permissible recreation

January 7, 2021 at 1:38 pm

Following representations from the Angling Trust and Members of Parliament, the Government have backtracked on their earlier decision to ban angling, due to it not being considered a viable form of exercise, but have reconsidered it as a permissible form of recreation. Tier 4 rules apply, with social distancing and no more that two people fishing together, while fishing competitions remain banned. Tackle shops can open on a strictly click and collect basis. Travel to fish should be kept as local as possible.

Having allowed angling to continue throughout Lockdown 2, it did seem illogical to ban it for this third lockdown. The mental health aspects of getting out in the fresh air and fishing are well documented, while anyone that has dragged their fishing tackle from the car, then trudged over wet ground to their favourite fishing spot will agree, that it is also a healthy form of physical exercise, apart from landing a decent net of fish.

 

 

 

Whitewater work party breathes new life into a neglected fishery

July 26, 2020 at 6:45 pm

A new committee has been working wonders at Farnborough and District Angling Society this year. Having signed a new three year lease on the river Blackwater, but lost a stretch of the river Loddon due to a housing development, it has decided to revitalise a long neglected mile of the river Whitewater, which is known for big chub and the occasional barbel. The upper reaches are reserved for fly fishing during the trout season, but the lower section has become overgrown and impenetrable over the years.

Arriving at the 9:30 am start time, it was obvious that I was not the first to arrive and the sound of chainsaws and strimmers could be heard in the distance.

Managing to squeeze my car onto a narrow verge, I walked back over the river bridge and followed upstream the sound of machetes on undergrowth, joining a couple of the guys clearing a pathway through seven foot high ferns. Armed with an extendable pole saw, I decided to concentrate on chopping Himalayan Balsam. Having tried pulling the balsam, it was much quicker to chop it, getting three, or four plants at a time, knowing that the flowers had little chance of growing on again.

Swims were already being opened up by small teams, while larger groups were dealing with trees with a chainsaw.

I continued upstream doing my balsam chopping, working up a sweat, while others made their way up toward Riseley Mill. Once I had dealt with this lot, I made my way back.

I was amazed to see this swim, it had been completely closed in when I had move up earlier on, now it was looking spick and span.

I can’t wait to trot a stick float under those trees. These swims are virgins in need of violation.

Another job well done by the Farnborough club’s volunteers. This was just the first phase on opening up this water, many of the members there unaware that the club held the rights to this interesting little river. The Whitewater confluence joins the river Blackwater a few hundred yards from this point, where the club hold the rights up to the Ford. Another work party in the offing.

There was one last job to do for the FDAS crew. Get my car out of the ditch at the side of the road, when the car managed to embed itself in the verge, due to too much right foot of the driver. After demolishing a jungle, it was nothing that a dozen pairs of hands, a tow rope and a FWD pick up couldn’t handle. Thanks lads.

 

 

A late visit rewarded by a wild Whitewater trout

July 24, 2020 at 10:19 pm

While my wife settled down to watch a couple of her TV favourites, Garden Rescue and Location Location, I put my fly fishing gear in the car and headed off to the River Whitewater this week. The river has not been stocked this year and for my first visit in six weeks, I was not expecting much, but it was good to get out on a warm sunny evening with nothing more than a flyrod, a net and a box of flies.

Parking at the farm, I walked down to the old cattle drink looking for rising fish, but apart from a few minnows nothing was moving and after trying a size 16 dry Hares Ear without a touch, I waded back out of the river looking for an alternative in my box. I found a smaller size eighteen Gold Ribbed Hares Ear Goldhead nymph and attempted to tie it on, but managed to hook my lip, while pulling the knot tight. Yeouch! That was extremely painful going in, while  extracting the tiny barbless hook was eye watering. It is amazing how much blood came out of that hole, needing to wash the fly in the clear river.

Recovered, I waded back in past a dead branch, that had been washed down in recent floods, keeping my casts up to the right, as the crayfish man had a couple of pots mid stream. The flow was just right and I retrieved to stay in contact with the nymph as it drifted back, the leader greased to within two feet of the fly acting as an indicator. I saw a few taps, which I put down to minnows, or small dace, but nothing else.

Enthusiasm diminishing, I moved further downstream to the old weir, where there was bound to be a trout lurking, even a small perch would have been welcome at this time. Working both sides of the race and the pool along the other bank without a pull, I waded up to the base of the weir, casting along the bank under the trees, once guaranteed to get a take from a chub, or a trout, but again nothing.

With the sun gone behind the farm buildings, this used to be the time for catching on the Whitewater, but something has gone wrong in the past five years. OK it is not the River Test, but enjoyment has given way to punishment these days. Maybe it is the multitudes of signal crayfish scraping a living on the bottom, the crayfish man is apparently having trouble carrying the hauls back to his van, or maybe it is the mink and pike?

The light was going and I was having trouble seeing my leader against the surface, so I decided that enough was enough and retreated to the bank, walking back to the cattle drink, where I stood on the gravel of the overspill casting up into the gloom of the pool. This was the last chance saloon, having caught many trout that have dropped back into the fast shallow water in the past. Extending my casts a yard at a time, the line suddenly zipped taut and a trout tumbled on the surface as I lifted my rod.

The power of a trout is always a shock after months of catching roach, even a relatively small one, as this one was, fights for all it is worth. The bronze, gold flanks of this fish flashed beneath the surface as I tried to stay in contact, elated yet fearful, that the tiny hook would lose its grip. Was this the same fish that I lost here two months ago? At the tail of the pool, I waited for the trout to give up, lifting my rod as it drifted down into my landing net. Full bodied and about 6 oz, I carried the wild brownie to the bank for a photo, the camera flash whiting out much of the colour, but still a beautiful fish.

The hook was just inside the jaw, which pushed out with forceps and while still in the net, I held the trout facing up into the flow on the gravel run, until it was ready to swim free. Thinking that it would return to the pool, I was surprised that it turned and disappeared downstream.

My last Whitewater outing had resulted in a wild fish, but they are few and far between these days.

 

 

Wild brown trout hard to find after the Mayfly hatch

June 11, 2020 at 7:02 pm

A late afternoon visit to the river Whitewater this week, saw me heading toward black clouds, as I drove west, but hoped that a late Mayfly hatch and a trout, would compensate for a soaking. By the time I reached the river, the clouds had parted to allow sunshine to break through, warming the air as I heading down from the road bridge. I kept my eye open for Mayfly and rising fish, stopping below a tunnel of trees to watch a brownie of a pound rise occasionally to a sparse hatch. A sideways cast was needed to avoid the overhanging branches, while a down stream wind added to my difficulties, but after several attempts, the fly line carried enough momentum to cast the fly into the shadows. As my Mayfly emerged from the gloom, the trout rose from the side and turned, taking the fly, a reflex action setting the hook, but not for long as the brownie boiled on the surface and came off the barbless hook. Struck too soon! Lack of practice.

Not stopping to fish on, I decided to walk to the bottom of the beat about half a mile down, where a work party had cleared the banks, stopping at the farm bridge to view the river, another trout rising twice beneath the over hang of a tree, safe from any angler’s fly.

Walking down to the spot, I could see it through a gap in the trees. There was faster water here at the tail of the pool, but no chance to cast a fly, even with chest waders from the middle of the river, so I contented myself by watching as it hung around at midwater, drifting up to the surface to gently sip in small flies that I could not identify, while ignoring a mayfly that scudded across its vision.

Continuing past the jungle of trees, I came to an opening, where a tree had been removed, allowing a clear upstream cast up to a gap in the vegetation, where a fish rose. There were no Mayfly about, but I cast mine to it, the fish coming up again after the big artificial had passed it by. Another cast and the Mayfly was ignored again. I tied on a size 16 Gold Ribbed Hares Ear, which is a good general pattern, that seems to work for me in most situations, sitting high in the surface film, when rubbed in with floatant and unaffected by the wind.

By the time that I was ready, the fish had risen again and I made false casts up to it. Another yard from the reel and the fly floated to the surface, drifted a foot, then disappeared in a swirl. Striking, I lifted the line from the water making contact and boiling the fish on the surface. It was not a big trout and I stripped back line to stay in contact, not wishing to loose this one, no matter how small. Zig zagging from side to side it fought well and I took my time to net it from the bank with my net fully extended.

Not a monster, about 4 oz, but a perfect wild trout all the same, proof that this little river still has a self sustaining wild trout population. After unhooking it was lowered back in with the landing net, bolting back to the depths with no ill effects.

I headed back, unsuccessfully trying my luck again at the S bend, but by now the clouds had returned and drizzle was blowing across the field. Time to go.