RH Fly Fishing

  Unashamed, here I go again: In the 2020 Wild Trout Trust auction my pal was successful with a bid for one rod/four day’s boat fishing at Farmoor II. He parlayed that into two rods/two day’s in the boat. We managed to get one day in last October, before the cursed Covid-19 put us back into lockdown. Non-plussed, the excellent Thames Water staffers at Farmoor were happy to permit us to carry forward the un-used day to this year. Just goes to illustrate how flexible these WTT auction lots can be.   Even May’s liquid onslaught held off for our day, however, there was still a very strong wind from the west. With the wind sock virtually horizontal I half expected boats to be ruled a no-no, but we were allowed out, along with just two other foolhardy crews. The drogue couldn’t slow us enough, so we tried mooring to a buoy off the south bank (where most fish have been caught of late, apparently), ere long casting was nigh-on impossible (for us) even with 7-weight lines, and we eve...

    I don’t want to bang on about it BUT the Wild Trout Trust annual auction is the best way to fish new places whilst raising funds for a very worthy cause, dear to all of our hearts. This particular auction lot was carried over from last year due to the C-19 malediction.  Unhappily, this unprecedented May weather meant the river beats were blown-out, running the colour of chocolate. Thankfully, the Leconfield Fly Fishing Club has much more to offer: we could switch attention to their ‘lakes’ and fish for either Brown or Rainbow trout. I hasten to point out this Leconfield is not in Yorkshire, but is the Leconfield Estate, 14.000 beautiful acres thereof, around Petworth in the South Downs.   My fishing buddy and I enjoyed a thoroughly good day. After the rendezvous with Andrew Thompson we followed him, almost off-road, into a beautiful, narrow valley which once used to be the site of water mills, the tumbling burn being dammed to form mill ponds. The top two are n...

    By now some readers will be aware of the annual Wild Trout Trust auction which provides wonderful opportunities to fish new water, normally out of your reach. A successful bid brought Brian and I to the River Rother in West Sussex, a first for both of us.   We were greeted by our hosts for the day, Gabby Conder and Nathan Friel, before walking a short length of the beat to view the river and chat about fishing. They were excellent company and their advice ensured we would have a good day.   The valley bottom is sandstone, and the river has carved itself a mini-canyon, mostly steep sided and overgrown; it put me in mind of some west-country rivers (or a freestone creek as our cousins over the pond would say). The steep, even sheer, banks mean you must find one of the gentler sloped access points, then wade up or down from there. Beneath the canopy. Most is wadable, save for some of the larger, deeper pools. The many bends mean riffle/glide/pool, one after anot...

  “We’ve all heard that a million monkeys banging away on a million typewriters will eventually reproduce the entire works of Shakespeare. Now, thanks to the internet, we know this is not true”.  I interrupt this adventure to explain why there are no photographs: wade fishing the River Rother two days ago saw me more than belly-button deep, and my faithful field camera got a soaking from which it might never recover. My apologies, I hope to resume normal service as soon as possible. As I splashed along the lanes towards Kings Somborne through the deluge, I wondered how many of the Fluff Boys would brave the elements. John O’Gaunt fishery is certainly on our map, we’ve visited per episodes 20, 23, 32, 35, 47, 53, and 56, and despite two Covid lockdowns. First job on arrival was to pay and dash to cover, to change into waterproofs and wellies. In all, just four of us mustered in the rain: the Professor, Moneypenny, Lumberjack, and Whytee, with the addition of Dodgy, a non-Fluf...

  Whenever I’m trying a bit of stalking, concentrating hard, focusing on the fish, my position relative to it, any cover, stealth, and all the other permutations, why is it that Cow Parsley reaches out, snatches my cast, tippet or line, usually all three, then simply won’t let go at all?  The flowers I could maybe forgive once in a while, although I prefer to see it roadside rather than bankside, but by late autumn or winter it’s those evil seed heads that are the real menace. You struggle with the cat’s cradle that forms the instant your line or cast merely touches those seed heads, and the outcome is inevitably tying on a new, complete cast, because even if you strip the hundreds of seeds away one at a flippin’ time, their stems still spitefully grab, twist and kink your line, cast and tippet to b@ggery!  I always used to think Alder trees were a bad enough and constant enemy, but the hours of down time caused by the clumps of Cow Parsley dotted around, waiting, un-noti...