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Way back in the grim castless days of last season when Toby the Pedant suggested we explore the sea trout possibilities of his local waters, it seemed a fabulous idea. I rounded up some willing guinea pigs, and we made for the wilds of the West Country. The perils of planning a water-dependent venture so far in advance (more than a couple of days) are always amplified when fishing spate rivers like Devon’s. A lovely and DRY spring had Toby praying for rain.
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As always, when the rain came, it came too late for the fish, but in plenty of time to drench the fishermen. We arrived for two days fishing and spent the first afternoon doing recognisance of the beats and access points while doing our best to tempt the odd wild brownie out from under the trees. It is always worth looking at a river you intend to fish in the dark BEFORE it gets dark…a river can change in character and lay of the land enormously in a short period of months. Better to identify the obstacles and hazards while you can see and avoid them rather than after you are standing in them. What we found was a sea trout pool with an enormous fallen tree in the middle of it (not there when Toby and I had explored in the spring), water moving so slowly that it was like fishing a pond, and the riffles between pools resembling gravel paths.
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Despite the conditions, all five of us caught some brownies, but the sea trout were more elusive, probably queuing down at the river’s mouth waiting for the rain to raise water levels. We heard the odd splash, but only one sea trout was landed. The best bit about guinea pigs is their acceptance of the small pleasures of fishing: although we all had fun, before we offer this as a regular package we need to think long and hard about the impact of water level on these spate streams. Too little, and you find what we did. Too much, and it is like fishing the Nile: you are as likely to hook a hippo as a fish.
