A Good Day

I've just returned from a trip to the River Test where I had a session on dave Steuart's 'garden' section. What a place. What a man. Dave is slowly shrinking as he ages but he's still as sharp, talkative and cussed as ever he was. To know him is a privilege and to fish his water.... pure joy.

I stopped overnight with Dave and we chatted about the prospects and all things fishing over a meal at the pub. This was a solo trip so I had the entire length to myself. I woke early and looked from the bedroom window at the clear water running past the house. The ducks were already gathering on his lawn for the morning feed and the robins were adding some music to the scene.

On Dave's advice, I opted to try a swim I'd passed on previous trips. He reckoned it was good for roach and, as the bigger one's had previously avoided me, I decided to give it a go. I put a few balls of blitzed bread into the clear area between the weed beds. I learned that if compressed to a small ball, the bread sank quickly but stayed put at the head of the swim where it would slowly break down and the trout would attack it. However, were it scattered in a loose mush, it would all sink slowly and drive the trout mad as they raced around hoovering up all they could find. Finally I tried somewhere in the middle. This sent off a stream of flake whereas the main amount would sink slowly in an enticing lump and be engulfed by a trout.

Spotty nuisance

Yes, trout are an unavoidable nuisance in the pursuit of finer things when fishing the Test. The general rule is to catch the trout (sometimes two or three times), until they get the message and allow
your feed and bait through to better species. Don't get me wrong. On a fly and in the right circumstances, I'd sell a kidney for trout like these but please leave me alone when there's roach around.

First trot and the float ran alongside the weed nicely until it sharply dipped. My rod (Chapman Harvey Torbett copy and an absolute dream to use), bent and I presumed that trout number one had grabbed my flake. But no. A flash of silver and a see-saw shaking of the body became a roach. A good one! I nursed it to the net with my heart in my throat until it slid over the edge of the waiting net. Yes!

Slightly blurred but lovely

At one pound eleven ounces, it was my biggest river roach for more years than I care to recall. I took a couple of quick snaps but later found that the camera lens was misted by the cool start to the day.

Not to worry. Next trot and a grayling of at least one and a quarter pounds came in. There were large trout patrolling up and down the swim and I'd avoided them, what a start. The luck continued when three or four casts later, I again struck into a confident bite and another fine roach was landed. One pound and fourteen ounces! So close to my first river two pounder but big enough to make the long drive more than worth while.

And then the trout took over. Fish after fish, all between one and three pounds, all ready to jump, run and generally thrash the river to foam if given half a chance. A couple of delicate but missed bites hinted that a roach or two was still about but they were now shy and it was time to move.

I caught so many trout down that fishery. But more grayling, a few dace and a perch interspersed the mayhem and every fish was fun to land.

Another greedy trout

I intended to return to swim 1 but the river was low, the sky bright and I figured that dusk would be the best time to have another go. It was however, merely two thirty and my back and shoulder were hollering for rest. I had another drink and chin wag with my generous host and headed north west once more, driving toward a deep red sunset that glowed behind Hay Bluff as I reached the last leg.