A condensed season of Grayling fishing.

This season's Grayling fishing has been my best so far, with a number of productive outings and several large fish caught. Owing to the constraints of A levels, and a lack of fishing funds I've had less outings than I'd have liked, often going for months without casting a line. This however simply meant that those special occasions upon which I got to fish were savoured all the more. Each trip brought new challenges, and I feel that I've learned a lot as a fly fisher through my grayling outings.

My Grayling season got off to a flying start back in mid October with a trip to a prime tributary of the River Test. The river was perfect, it was everything a chalk stream should be, and the aroma of water mint permeated the bank side scene as it was crushed underfoot. The day was one of glorious sunshine, making fish spotting easy. Many large Grayling were drifting, ghost like on the pale chalk, and what's more, could be seen to be feeding. On several occasions I saw large Grayling tilt their snouts down, causing a small plume of silt to rise as they sucked in nymphs from the river bed.

Nick opened the season with what was then the biggest Grayling I'd ever seen. It was a very dark fish, weighing in at 2lb 11oz! It was the first victim of the day to a fly that is now legendary within certain fly fishing circles: the killer orange beaded nymph. This fly, with it's visible bead, was to prove itself time and time again as the day went on, and I believe, I may not of course be correct, that every Grayling mentioned to be hooked or caught by Nick during this expansive blog entry was on one of these nymphs.

After this wonderful start, Nick spotted a couple of large Grayling feeding in the outside of a bend behind extensive rushes on our bank. Nick, having already had a good fish, gave me the privilege of casting to them. Crouching behind the rushes, I catapulted a pink bug of my own creation out to the fish, which to my great surprise took it straight away. I struck into it, causing it to bolt downstream, taking line! If memory serves me right it even jumped! Nick could see the other fish still feeding, seemingly undisturbed by it's partners swift exit. He flicked out his nymph, and in no time at all we were both playing good Grayling in the same glide, his fish bolted down as well, overtaking mine. We landed the fish at the around same time, mine weighed 2lbs, a new Pb, and Nick's was a little under 2lbs, a good fish.

The day carried on in this vein, Nick landing countless large Grayling on his killer nymph (which was fast becoming a classic) and I landed several more good fish, all being around a pound in weight.

The season thus opened in fine style, and it went on...

My second and third trips of the season were to a stretch of the main River Test and the River Lambourn during a weekend in late November. 

The Test was remarkably low, it was at least 1foot lower than it probably should have been for the time of year. The low water though probably made the fishing a little easier, the fish being that bit more shoaled up, and easier to spot. Both Nick and I made good catches on nymphs. Nick catching at least one 2lber and catastrophically losing a fish that may well have topped 3lbs; I caught a dozen or so Grayling of up to 1 3/4lbs on the duo.

On the far bank, over a patch of clear gravel, we spotted a pair of what must've been salmon cutting their redds into the pale flinty gravels. It was a marvellous site, watching the fish tilt and kick, cleaning the gravels. We possibly even witnessing the spawning event itself.

Along with the subsurface action there was a reasonable hatch of small, pale up-winged flies, which as a keen naturalist and aspiring biologist I have to say, ashamedly, that I have no idea as to what species they were! I'm pleased to say that I managed to catch my largest Grayling on a dry fly, a fish of a pound and a quarter or so in weight. 

In one pool, memorably, there was a large pod of out sized stocky brown trout rising lazily, head and tail, to these small upwings. In amongst them were several grayling, also rising. As I cast my small dry into the pool, chancing my luck at the Grayling, Nick laughingly said “There is no way that your fly won't get taken by one of these trout.” As he said it, by a strange coincidence, a very large brownie nonchalantly swam over to my fly, fully intent on casually taking it. Raising the tip of my rod caused my fly to skate an inch or two away from the fish's open mouth, leaving one very confused trout, which rose, it's back breaking the surface, only to find it's intended morsel had disappeared. The fly continued on it's drift and into the mouth of a very welcome half pound Grayling!

The River Lambourn the next day was frightfully low, a comparison of pictures in the hut and the present water levels showed it to be at least 2 feet lower than it had been in the summer of 2007! The fish were extraordinarily sparse, and very difficult. Fishing the entire length of the fishery, which was a mile and a half if memory serves me well, we spotted precious few Grayling. 

The ones sighted were big, but proved near impossible. Nick hooked and lost one in the first pool we came to, this along with the loss of a very large Grayling and the landing of several out of season brown trout proved to be the sum total of fish caught during our stealthy creep up the beat. We even failed to catch a Grayling in a very promising hatch pool in the middle of the beat. There were supposedly two or three hatch pools, but owing to disrepair and worryingly low water levels the other two appeared as nothing more than deep, stagnant, weed filled pools.

A dog walker in a field nearby came down for a chat with us, seemingly surprised that anyone would bother fishing the river in it's present state. This walker spoke of the river in the recent past, before much of the abstraction had occurred. He spoke of a fast, gurgling stream, several feet deep and with a channel far larger than today's, at present the channel being choked by encroaching marginal weeds. Back then this stretch supported good populations of brown trout, running, he reminisced, to over two pounds in weight.

At the top of the fishery the river simply disappeared into an extensive marginal weed bed that appeared to dominate the entire channel from there on. Succession it seemed was moving on, bringing sharply to mind the fact that our chalk streams are not natural, quickly turning to marsh if left to their own devices. Neglect it seemed plagued this pretty little river, evident throughout in the rotting planks of the walkways and the hatches that were crumbling in disrepair.

The day almost over, and having reached the top end, we elected to fish the first pool once more, where we'd spotted the most Grayling on the way up. We took turns perching in a tree that overhung the pool, directing the other's casting to the fish, watching from the vantage point as the nymphs drifted past their targets.

I so happened to be lucky enough to hook and land one of these fish. It proved larger than I thought, weighing in at 1lb 14oz's, a monster from so small and slight a stream. 

From the tree I saw Nick's nymphs being taken numerous times, but failing to connect with the takes, Nick remained fishless that day. The fishing was ridiculously hard, the water barely flowing. The Grayling we managed to catch was the result of combined effort and team work, requiring every ounce of our collective experience, cunning and skill. I can now understand why the late Frank Sawyer always refused any invitations to fish for Grayling on the Lambourn, on the grounds that these fish are just “too darned hard to catch”.

Following the last trip, I was forced to put fishing aside for a few months and put in countless hours of work for my upcoming January exams. 

The exams were over by early February, and I enthusiastically accepted Nick's offer to accompany him to fish on another, thankfully easier, stretch of the Lambourn. This stretch was downstream of the neglected reaches, having recently received significant habitat improvements from the EA.Grayling were plentiful, both Nick and I catching around thirty fish each! The average size was small however, the bulk of the fish being around the 4-6inch mark, but larger fish were had, I myself taking a couple of fish that, if we had weighed them, would probably have made a pound or so in weight.

Snow lay on the ground, and there was a frosty chill in the air. I distinctly remember silently cursing absolutely everything whilst trying, and failing, to tie a three turn water knot several times with cold hands. The frustration was indeed immense.

Hopefully I'll be able to get out in the trout season before being forced by necessity to try and forget about fishing once more and study.