Manningford manoeuvres

 

 Brian hasn’t fished Manningford Trout Fishery for some years, so that’s why we picked it this time. Considering we both usually fish Hampshire’s small stillwaters, a trip into neighbouring Wiltshire  represents great value for money: a four fish C&K ticket for £40, add in a lovely fishery with excellent facilities, fully finned trout, and what’s not to like? It’s also a nice drive too, around an hour depending on the traffic, crossing some beautiful countryside and passing through pretty villages.

 Received wisdom says lures fished deep this time of year, so we both started with intermediate outfits for pulling lures, trying different countdowns before starting the retrieve. I commenced operations along the windward bank, a strong ripple on the surface, save for the bits in the lee of the three islands. There was plenty of room to leapfrog each other along the bank, only another four customers were present, one of whom was fishing the river beats. Fish were rising intermittently, although it was hard to spot surface disturbances in the chop.

 After my second move I had a fish tweak the longish tail of the black Leech pattern I had on, then nothing. I switched to a Blob pattern that’s worked well recently, but nothing came to either a slow retrieve or a roly-poly. I was beginning to think the fish were high up in the water column, when mid-cast there was a rise in range, I covered it, and the fly was taken virtually as it landed. It proved to be my best of the day at three-and-a-half, giving me a proper scrap, making lots of runs left and right.

 Armed with this intel, B cast along the bank to his left, where a fish had just moved, and again the Blob was taken as it began to sink. Another great scrapper, Malcolm certainly rears a high calibre product in the fish farm just along the lane. Whenever I come here I marvel at the engineering: the inflow and outflow are at the same end, parallel with each other. There are no discernible gradients involved, yet despite the expanse of Manor ‘lake’ you can see the water circulating right around, Avon water flows in then flows back out into the river and onwards through Hampshire.

 We had earlier rendezvoused at the Starbucks near Barton Stacey en route. It used to be a Little Chef, with proper breakfasts, but we made do with coffee and melts amid the sombre furnishings, which were a tad depressing compared to the old, brightly lit, warm tones and shiny formica surfaces. Thus we didn’t start fishing until gone ten and the morning flew by until one o’clock, our agreed time to stop for lunch. On nearby Salisbury Plain it sounded like the tanks and big guns were getting their eye in, presumably due to the current face-off between Russia and the Ukraine. The explosions made the ground shake and I idly wondered if those booms spooked the trout. Maybe being reared in the fish farm’s stews over a couple of years they become used to it?

 Sitting at the picnic table, enjoying the mild day and hot soup and filled rolls, and a drop of something much more revivifying, we agreed the fish were high in the water column, unseen due to the ruffled surface, so we took the time to swap our lines over to floaters. Malcolm Hunt, who runs the fishery and fish farm, joined our conversation for a little while, and confirmed the fish are rarely deep here except in the most icy conditions, adding “they’re not doing much chasing at the moment”. I set up an indicator rig with float stops to permit easy depth changes. Bri went the more traditional route of a greased cast, to drift his fly around close to the surface. It was nice to sit and chat, catching up with life in general but inevitably the desire to fish drew us back onto the banks.

 I was trialling a ‘balanced nymph’ which I had recently tied; its horizontal presentation enabled by a Eumer set-off gold bead head, fishing it about twenty inches below the foam indicator made from Booby cord. The inlet stream runs alongside the right-hand bank (looking out from the lodge), and in it, behind me, I spotted a big Brownie holding deep, but as I prepared to present the nymph to it, a much smaller fish disturbed it and it swam away downstream. I trotted the indicator rig after it then glanced back at the ‘lake’ at the sound of a splashy rise, when I looked back the indicator had vanished: a quick lift of the rod and it arched over to fishy resistance! It was an exciting scrap in the narrow channel, the trout running upstream and downstream, but before too long it was safely netted, a very fit two pound Rainbow.

 We continued changing spots up and down the bank, but neither had any action before I spotted a  rise in that inflow stream and again trotted the indicator towards it stealthily, whereupon the indicator shot under. This was a better ‘bow of three pounds and once more gave me plenty of anxious, exciting moments before I could subdue it. By now B was trying along the opposite bank, here and there, where the wind was at his back and the surface in front of him much calmer.

 At lunch time there had been clouds of small midges in the shelter of the parked cars, so I figured a change to a little black buzzer might be the key to unlock the puzzle. While knotting one on, I noticed B had returned to his car and was packing his gear away. Casting towards the first island, third chuck the indicator submerged without warning, fish on! As I was netting the fish Bri came over to say cheerio, citing that his mojo had died on him because he couldn’t see any active fish and he disliked just “fishing blind”. I suggested he have a cast with the buzzer now I was finished, and …Bang! I acted as ghillie, netting and despatching the trout. He cast again, the scenario repeated, this time a fish which looked as big as my first and gave B one heck of a battle before the ghillie obliged. No sooner than the little buzzer was unhooked and cast out again, and B was into his fourth and final trout. Three Rainbows in less than half an hour. Seeing him grin and shake his head while playing each fish was alone worth a £40 ticket price any day!