David Pilkington is another convert to a phenomenon I have written about here: bored fly fishermen finding alternative quarry at which to fling fluff…albeit considerably larger dust bunnies. Having failed on the freshwater sections of the Devonshire McNab, we were determined to turn around our fortunes by heading to the sea (not the first Brit to think this would be the making of my adventure). We kitted up in the carpark, surrounded by intrigued walkers and ponies: donning waders and strapping washing up bowls (line trays) to one’s waist caused a sensation among the less fashionably attired. Setting off across the sands to meet the flooding tide, we passed a host of promising looking depressions that would be fish-holding pools on our return journey.

As soon as we reached the water, all our dreams of crystal clear seas were shattered: the swell resembled a tossed salad. Saltwater decorated with rafts of seaweed, driftwood and swirling sand charged up the race to meet the turbulent spate freshwater. Imagine fishing into Realtree camo, and you’ll come close. Double hauling frantically to get the best of the clearer water, it was impossible to tell whether the knock on the end of your line was a fish or a passing pallet. Undetered, we fished on, David watching the incoming sea to make sure we could still beat a hasty retreat to the diminishing beach. After a couple of hours of good effort with nothing to show except improved technique, we accepted defeat, and returned to the welcoming fires of the Arundel Arms where a consolation dinner awaited us.

Clearly, this is not an adventure for the weak of cast, the pessimist, or those afraid to fail. But then what true challenge is? The tides and runs of sea bass and sea trout make this a trip with a limited window of availability. If you fancy having a go, don’t hesitate in getting in touch to secure the best dates.

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We wrote this blog more than a year ago, but had to hold off sharing it with you for editorial reasons. Now, in the gloomy rain of autumn, it seems appropriate to hark back to summers gone, and dream of the ones to come. As I have observed when trying to justify my attempts to catch barbel on the fly, fishermen invent new challenges when bored. The Arundell Arms staff, passionate about their flyfishing, have invented the Devonshire Flyrod McNab: brown trout, sea trout and sea bass on the fly in a day. I’ve been desperate to visit the infamous Arms since I was 10 and keen to learn to flyfish. Needless to say, my parents couldn’t be convinced to send their kid off to Devon on his own, and had no interest in accompanying me, so I had to satisfy myself with drooling over their brochures. Thirty years on, Anne Voss-Bark was kind enough to invite me and Number Two to stay and attempt the McNab.

The 2008 season was a challenging one on the spate rivers, with the constant rain making conditions unpredictable, but I packed my rods in great anticipation, and headed west. For those of you who haven’t had the pleasure of staying at the Arundell Arms, it is famed as much for its fabulous food and hospitality as for the 20 miles of fishing on the Tamar and its tributaries.

Conditions on the Tamar resembled the Nile in flood, ruling out any night time adventures as the water was just too dangerous to fish for sea trout in the dark. Come the morning, it was apparent we would have to be clever with our fly choice to tempt salmonids of any flavour to take. Needless to say after several hours of dangling Pilkington Bumbles (our ghillie’s foolproof invention) in likely spots, we conceded defeat and beat a hasty retreat to the welcoming arms of the bar. Under fishing paraphernalia that would make the most accquisitory collector blush, we plotted and schemed the salty part of the day’s challenge.

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