Amongst all the usual weekend chores I managed to negotiate Sunday afternoon off. I must have been especially good, but there was an understanding that the grass would be cut on my return. I met up with Jason the ‘Fishing Machine’ (TM Cranefly, 2008) and we were off. Looking into the river the chub were in their usual lies, but there were an awful lot of flies in the air, including the first sustained procession of mayflies of the year. There were a few fish rising.

This was to be one at a time fishing. Rather than leapfrogging one another it was a case of me fishing and Jason watching, ginking his flies or whatever and vice versa. Jason was keen to fish a spot way upstream because ‘there aren’t any trout down here’. I didn’t think that I had time to work up that far and anyway I had a hunch that we would find some trout before then. Pretty soon I had lost my first take and Jason had brought a pristine 4” brown to hand. I almost managed not to rub his face in it and we were now fishing with a purpose.

Mayflies were still airborne, but they weren’t hatching where we were fishing. Despite this woodland section looking ridiculously trouty there was little evidence of any fish. I think that the lack of instream cover is an issue in this section. Leaving Jason fishing a likely looking seam I got out of the river and scooted off upstream. I wanted to see if I could find where the Mayfly were emerging. Leaving the woodland behind me I was into the water meadows. The river here has the appearance of a chalkstream carrier. Rounding a corner came the sound of half a brick hitting the water just upstream of me. But the brick was shaped like a trout. The pool eight yards above me was alive with trout slashing at the duns that were steadily coming off.

Returning downstream to fetch the Fishing Machine I am not sure he believed me. This has always appeared to be trouty water but has been dominated by chub in the past. In fact I know he didn’t believe me because he crept upstream, through the undergrowth to have a peek into the pool. I knew that he had begun to believe me when he mouthed the words ‘fark me’ and held his hands 12” apart. Slipping into the river just downstream of this pool we observed what was happening and decided on a plan of attack. This was a perfect hatch, with duns emerging in twos and threes and we were able to track them on their journey downstream. Probably half of them met a trout shaped doom. These fish were seriously locked on. And the pool was stacked with fish of varying sizes. Occupying pride of place were a couple of fish that were moving quite a lot of water with each rise. We hedged our bets, me with a stimulator and Jason with an emerger. Four casts and swap was agreed. All seems very sensible in reflection, but in truth we were gibbering wrecks. My attempt to even tie my fly onto the leader was more akin to my teenage fumblings with bra hooks than anything remotely competent.

In truth we needn’t have worried too much. The trout were naïve and preoccupied. Almost every cast warranted some attention. And we had the discipline to rest the pool for a few minutes after each fish. Smoking helps in this regard. We didn’t hook everything, we were too excited really. And we both lifted out of several fish. But by the time I had to leave I had brought three good fish to hand and Jason had a similar level of success. Irritatingly he had been snapped off by undoubtedly the king of the pool. As I departed the Fishing Machine was continuing with a manic level of concentration. A text message in the evening confirmed that he continued to enjoy sport with the trout plus a ‘big chub’. Knowing him I shudder to think how big that chub may have been.

Ben, is that the 'somewhere' Ithe freebie bit of river that I fished with you once?

lovelly post. a joy to read.

--Eric

Ahh If I’m the ‘machine’ all I can say is I need a damn good service.

Nicely put Ben and a few pics from the Sunday session, next Sunday is when we try to find the big boys and girls in another location ‘Somewhere in Surrey’!


The pool on the bend



Fish



More fish




...................................TBC

Now I've sorted my camera out I can continue.

Quick call in to Ben last night to see if he fancied a trip up to *9?@L)#, somewhere in Surrey that evening was met with resistance (OK I know it was last minute ) anyhow by the time I'd got myself sorted it was too late to be heading to far from home so decided on having a second crack at the King of the pool that had snapped me off the previous night.

Arriving at the bottom of the run that leads up to the pool and there were fish rising the length of the run all the way up through the pool and in to the fast water above on anything that moved, just to the left of centre in the pool was a large trout methodically taking duns and moving a lot of water in the process that I knew must be the King.

The fish in the run were small chancers taking the leftovers that had escaped being eaten from above so I wasn't too bothered about scaring these upstream however one rise in the tail of the pool was a larger fish that needed covering, so on went the same mayfly emerger I'd used the night before simple cast two foot above the rise and he was on, bullied downstream and bought to hand ASAP turning out to be the fish Ben had caught the night previous with scarring just behind the head from a winged predator.

The big fish in the pool was still evident so a quick dry of the fly same cast as before but six foot further on and the flies engulfed, lift rod, set hook and an almighty explosion on the surface followed in the next instant by a screaming reel. FISH ON.......fark me it's heading upstream (all others had previously turned tail and headed South) through the fast water at the pool head, through the weed beds and up in to the long pool above with me following un-majestically ten yards back. The fish then stopped letting me get most of the line back on the reel before turning round and heading back downstream and in to an undercut on the right bank where he did his up most to snag me like he had the night before however to night he was mine and after a few moments off manic head shaking he was netted. Fly nicely hooked in the scissors was removed, quick photo, fish revived and back to his lair to sulk. That was it two casts, two fish and home a happy man.

The ‘King of the Pool’ a perfect 16” brownie.

Nice work chap.

Hunch followed....fish caught....on to the next challenge.

There's a place, way downstream, that I have a feeling about..........

A cracking fish there Jay, and i bet you weren't paying £75 a day to fish there either.

__________________
" How differently I might behave if immortality were an option ".