Stop the river; I want to get off.
There is a thread at the moment regarding whether or not fishing needs t.v and of some peoples lack of understanding of how a river works. This is a story written by Donny Donovan, a river keeper on the Test, and is his version of things. It is kept on the table of the fishing hut at Nursling. Hope it is ok for me to put it on here but think it sums things up very well. I could not fit in the middle chapter but it is word for word - bad grammar and all etc.
Stop the river; I want to get off.
Of the many things in life that are deliberately over complicated, over manipulated or elaborated to the point of stupidity, the fly fishing industry has to be top of the tree and where the arts of salesmanship and gullibility meet with the opening of wallets and closing of minds.
In theory, trying to catch fish with a fly rod is the simplest of things and whilst observation, immitation and presentation may be the smart **** way of thinking about it, these basic thoughts have long been hijacked in equal measures by companies selling must have accessories such as two hundred quid fishing glasses and groups of tweed clad posh people with egos as big as their empty wicker baskets. You need very little to fly fish for trout. A rod, a fly and two bits of line in the middle. You need nothing else.
That same over complication and lack of basic understanding also exists in many peoples thoughts on how a river works not only by the fishermen but more worryingly by some who are charged to look after them. The general public are largely ignorant to the life of a chalkstream and you either get fishing or you don't but I think it very important to educate people as to the vital role a healthy river plays in the general well being of the countryside. Most people aren't particularly interested in the scientific side or in the technical details of how a river works but as I have found out, many don't realise that a river usually runs downhill!
The people who set themselves up as our river saviours are often self opinionated men of committees with somewhat oligarchic tendencies. These various factions without fail ending up hating the other groups of river saviours and a low state of civil unrest ensues whilst the river continues to run towards the sea. During my work as a river keeper, I am constantly reminded of this alarming ignorance and failings within "the management" although I always try to point out the bleeding obvious to both amateur and professional in an equally un-patronising way. This sometimes leads to drink.
During the hopefully glorious late spring and early summer days of June and July the river and surrounding catchment area becomes a phenomenal growing machine. The ranunculus grows as quickly as you can cut it as do the pathways and fringe alongside the river as well as the willow bushes pollarded on a seemingly weekly basis. This is a busy time for any chalkstream keeper and together with stocking duties and looking after fishermen means for early mornings and late nights.
Of course by cutting weed and the grass on a regular basis only encourages it to grow again and indeed that is half the purpose of such management and as rewarding as it all may look I guarantee that there is not a river keeper on any chalkstream in England who has at one time in his life not wished for that magic on/off switch to buy a moments rest. A little like the forth road bridge painters there is never an end in sight and a continual work rota is required just to preserve the status quo on a chalkstream.
There is one way that some infamous keepers have tried to halt this never ending workload and to try and but themselves a somewhat easier life. The scorched earth policy has been used on a few chalkstream beats although thankfully rarely used nowadays but that can be summed up by something that an old keeper explained to me many years ago. He was telling me about a very large willow tree that he used to have on his beat that became a bane in the lives of the under keepers whose job it was to sweep the seemingly endless supply of falling leaves off the paths. "Soon as I got head keepers job, first thing I did was chop the sodding thing down! No more bloody leaves!" he said with a what a clever ******* I am look on his face. I glanced down at his feet and studied his boots for a few seconds. "What you looking at?" he said. "Well I was wondering whether or not you've applied the same thought process with your feet and no longer have to cut your toe nails!"
Fishermen are also pretty good at questioning the blindingly obvious and some of their helpful observations are at times difficult to comprehend. I remember walking up the river one day during a fantastic Mayfly hatch and seeing a fisherman rooted to the spot holding his rod out at right angles to the river with his fly sat on the surface under the tip. When I got around to where he was "fishing" I questioned him on his rather unusualdry fly fishing technique and why he wasn't casting which is a fairly important part of the equation. He looked completely unfazed as he replied; "Well I have been doing what you said and casting upstream only but all that is happening is that the bloody fly keeps coming back downstream towards me and I have to do it again!" I'm not entirely sure that he wasn't taking the **** but I walked back to the fishing lodge and had a large glass of whisky before beating my head against the wall just in case he wasn't.
I have enough similarly embarrassing examples of my beloved fishermans thoughts and ideas to write a couple of books but perhaps the most glaring example of misunderstanding of the workings of a river, certainly that I have ever heard, came from a different source, thankfully neither keeper or fisherman.
Nursling mill sits astride the river alongside the main hatches that control the levels of the Test for miles upstream. During winter flooding all ten of the main hatches are fully open and the big mill hatch is also wound up giving maximum relief to the river. As you can imagine the amount of water during these floods is phenomenal and the power generated extremely frightening. Once these floods subside the hatch in the mill is the first to be closed and during low water years may remain shut for the full twelve months although there is always a nominal amount going through just to keep the mill race running clear. The mill was built in 1728 but hasn't been worked since the 1950's although all the internal machinery has been kept in place. About the same time I started at Nursling the mill was turned into three very posh apartments and are let out on a monthly basis with a fair turnover of tenants living the dream of live in a Hampshire water mill although some are only there for a couple of months before the rather hefty rental bites into that dream and they move on, ambition fulfilled.
As I have access to the mill because of the need to operate the internal hatch I get to meet all the tenants and enjoy showing them the workings of the mill and of the history of it all and over the years have become something of a tourist guide with a real fascination and intrigue about the place and the people who have worked there over the centuries. One particular couple moved into the main apartment and showed a keen interest in both the history and especially in how a water mill actually worked but I remember being a little surprised in their apparent worry at the closeness of the water; "Bit dangerous this close to the river isn't it?" Again I wasn't entirely sure that they weren't pulling my leg as I always think being called a water mill probably gives enough clues as to its general whereabouts. After about three weeks of them being there I received an incredulous phone call from the mills landlords who told me there was a problem with the new tenants and he would bring over a copy of the letter of complaint he had received from them that also involved me. It was a confusing conversation because whilst it sounded a little worrying and I racked my brain to think how I could possibly have upset them, the landlord was either giggling, or perhaps sobbing, throughout the entire call.
He did indeed arrive the next day with a copy of the aforementioned letter that he pressed into my hand telling me not to worry too much. I sat down to read the letter and had that horrible nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach still trying to think how I'd upset these seemingly charming people. The letter was beautifully hand written in a very proffessional manner and at first stated at how pleased they were with the general condition of their apartment and what a great place it was to live. It went on to say how helpful the river keeper had been and how I'd even offered to teach them how to cast a fly rod. I read on with ever increasing confusion until I got to the last couple of lines and I roughly quote; "There is only one area where we could see some improvement to us living in such an idyllic place and that is in the noise that the river makes - you can at times hear it whilst laying in bed at night. Would it be possible to ask the river keeper to stop the river at night-time so as to ensure a good night's sleep? We understand that the mill is no longer worked so we presume the water can be stopped at anytime. I would politely request best time for us would be between 7pm and 8am and perhaps the occassional weekend and certainly bank holidays when friends visit."
Now do you begin to understand why most river keepers tend to be fairly heavy drinkers, smoke when they don't really want to and eventually lose all faith in mankind? Stop the bloody river indeed.
Donny Donovan. 2003
Reg Wyatt
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