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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