An exhortation!

 

 When setting out on a journey to visit and fish a new place for the very first time it feels wonderful, excitement builds with the fresh sights around every turn. Of course, it would be easier fishing a regular haunt where you might know what’s what, but the prospect of unlocking even a little bit of the secrets of somewhere new adds to the challenge, and to the frisson when you do catch! If fishing was not challenging I doubt it would have so many ardent followers. That’s why I exhort you to bid in the next Wild Trout Trust on-line auction. They need the funds it raises to continue their good works in matters of water and fish welfare, and if successful, you get a magical fishing opportunity in return. What’s not to like?

 This time it was Harting Pond(s). I won’t go into the vagaries of sat-nav and post codes, suffice it to say the two ‘rods’ eventually rendezvoused with the waiting host from opposite ends of the country lane, the gate was unlocked, cars parked, and we went to walk the fishery in the company of Jonathan’s two Norfolk Terriers.

The pond(s) were  constructed in the 1500’s by Durnford Monastery, who were keen to get into the lucrative Carp business. Movements in the weeds betrayed the continued presence of Carp, apparently there are cracking Tench in there too: Jonathan’s PB is over seven pounds! Both species had been spawning of late, enjoying the warm weather. A little brook provides the inflow, and first there are four smaller ponds, all interconnected, before the water channels into the main body of water. The engineering was carried out so well that there is a gentle, discernible flow throughout, except for the central area of the main body which is heavily weeded. In the corner by the dam is the outlet, a little tributary of the nearby River Rother. The whole is very picturesque but hard to capture on camera due to the adjoining, huge, electricity pylons and overhead cables, the only blight. Birds did their very best to blot out any silence, calling and singing all around us from reeds, bushes, trees and surrounding fields.

 Our host pointed out the usually productive areas, and cautioned that the trout were currently ultra-spooky, (something I had heard two days previously too). After briefly running through the club/syndicate rules, and informing us we could each keep a brace of Rainbows, thereafter C&R on strictest ‘keep them wet’ principles, et cetera, he left us to it.

 It was hard to spot fish in the weeded main pond, so we decided to concentrate on the more intimate pools of the top end. It was very hot and sunny now, and we felt the fishing would fall away as the day wore on towards the evening. Light tippets and small flies were in order. I only used three flies the whole session: a size 16 buzzer, a same-sized hare’s ear nymph, plus a flash-back hare’s ear with a more pronounced gold rib, again in a 16. I lost the buzzer first cast to a cruising fish which took on the drop, only for the hook-knot to fail. Mea culpa. Thereafter, that simple, nondescript hare’s ear brought three to the net, later I dropped a lightly hooked trout, before being broken-off by the biggest ‘bow I spotted, which ran me straight into a column of blanket weed. I reckoned this one to have been around four pounds; my best was probably three-and-a-half, the others wouldn’t have passed the three pounds mark, but I digress. The replacement fly (flash-back) accounted for two more hard-fighting Rainbows to the net. There was a little tint to the water which made it difficult to look for that ‘white flash’ of a trout’s open mouth, so I had to sense when a fish had taken my fly, so I missed at least four others as a result!

  There must be a rogue gene in me somewhere, because I really enjoyed skulking and poking about in the reeds and cover, sighting fish to cast to. I hasten to add that it’s the only time I’m allowed to go in for any skulking. We were seasoned enough to sit out the hottest part of the day to have lunch in a patch of deep shade with a cooling breeze, ensuring we rehydrated sufficiently. It was glorious. As I packed away my gear, later, I noticed the massive electricity pylons had been made even uglier by a pair of Cormorants drying their outstretched wings. I’ve never seen Cormorants fly so high to perch before.

 This is just a short account of a marvellous day, which I hope will whet your appetite for having a punt in next spring’s W.T.T. auction.