Dever Springs - 3^rd July 2000

It was Colin's birthday and he wanted to catch a fish. After blanking twice last year at Bewl, he wanted to go somewhere the fish couldn't disappear into the blue horizon. We thought we'd try Dever Springs for several good reasons. It was around 2 hours drive away, with two small spring fed lakes and gin-clear water. Better still, none of the fish in the lakes are under 1.8 kilos (4lb) so they should be fairly easy to spot.

It was a day of heavy cumulus with breaks in the cloud. It did rain briefly once, but we had spells of sunshine too with temperatures around 21° C.

In a realistic frame of mind, we purchased a 2 fish ticket each at the lodge. There are some facilities, but they are fairly basic.

The small lake looks little more than a village pond at 2 acres with quite a bit of surface film and weed.

The Willow lake is larger at 4 acres and is crystal clear. It had several areas of weed, making it a bit difficult keeping the fly free. The weed is soft though and we did not lose any flies through it.

Also included in the fishing ticket is half a mile of fishing on the River Dever, a beautiful chalk stream with a decent population of wild and stocked brown trout, plus grayling. I understand that if you catch your limit in the lakes, you can continue to fish here. The wild brownies were evident in numbers, ranging from 250g (1/2 lb) to 680g (1 1/2 lb).

We were delighted to see a good population of water voles which are almost extinct elsewhere in the British Isles. Escaped mink and habitat destruction are generally blamed for their demise.

Ticket prices are £50 all day (4 fish), £40 (3 fish) or £30 (2 fish). There is a fishing lodge with weigh scales, seating and drinks facilities, plus the obligatory photos of big fish and there are stew ponds alongside some of the banks where you can stand and salivate.

Coots and dab-chicks are a bit of a nuisance here as they constantly fool you into thinking there are big fish rising all over the place.

Fish spotting was more difficult than I expected because of the heavy cumulus overhead, but when the sun managed to break through, fish were practically illuminated, gliding through the water.

There is no doubt that the fishery is well stocked, but the trout are not all easily fooled. Many turned to follow my flies and examine them, but turned away.

If you want to observe trout behaviour, this is one place to do it. A local angler kindly gave me a fritz damsel with a green bead head, telling me it would provoke a response. It did. The first cast produced a slashing run, but the fish missed. Excited, I recast, and I did get a lot of follows to it after that, but the fish were now more circumspect.

Later on, I tried the technique of letting the fly drift down into a deep trench. Trout would sometimes appear from nowhere to examine the fly, but invariable it would get a streamer of weed attached to the hook and put them off. I did eventually see a trout take the fly and spit it out before I could move a muscle.

After flogging that spot for a couple of hours, I moved to an empty spot near Colin and changed to one of my own gold head damsels. At first I had trouble seeing anything move in this deeper water, apart from a couple of fish about 20 yards out.

I got the line out to them, but they took evasive action whenever the fly got near them.

Colin then got a take and immediately lost the fish.

About this time I noticed some Canada geese attacking one of their goslings. It seemed to be crippled and they kept driving it away from them. A passing angler managed to drive them off, long enough to untangle a complete leader and fly from the gosling's leg. Someone must have snapped off the complete rig with a display of casting even worse than mine. The gosling again rejoined it's parents, who immediately lost all their hostility now that it appeared normal. Nature can be so fickle.

I was just enjoying a welcome pint of Kronenbourg, when I spotted a trout cruising by in front of me. Somehow I managed to put the beer glass down, flick out the line and drop the fly almost on it's nose. It gave it a disdainful look and side slipped it, passing out of sight beneath a small promontory. Encouraged by my perfect presentation, I recast to where I thought it would emerge and without seeing it take, the rod bent and I saw it diving for thick weed.

I started to wonder about all those wind knots in the leader, and it's age, but had faith that it would hold. Now pulling in a good trout, well covered in weed is not funny. For ten minutes I was getting nowhere, with the weed wearing me out while the fish had a rest, but eventually, a bit of nifty network from Colin got the whole lot in the bag. About 5 kilos all told, 2.36 kilos (5.25lb) trout, the rest weed.

The beer at the end of the rainbow.

Now Colin was having an interesting time. It lead to total frustration, but he will play the game like a real Englishman. A big rainbow started cruising in a tight circle right below his feet. There was no need to cast, he just had to drop a fly on it's nose, but the fastidious creature teased him unmercifully by looking and passing it by and then returning straight away. For a while it just remained in the tiny bay in front of him, inviting him to give it his best shot. It was all too much for me. I had to walk away as I was beginning to revert to type.

I returned to my original swim, spotting a lot of fish cruising around. They weren't being co-operative though. Most avoided the fly. I started to feel a bit jaded and lost concentration when I felt a tug. Thinking it was yet another clump of weed, I looked up in time to see the fly being spat out by a trout.

There is a word to describe that, but it's too rude to print here.

Another local chap was fishing close to Colin and catching lots of fish, but kept losing them. They were using the weed to act as a counter balance to eject the hook. After losing six fish, I spotted a couple cruising close to him and pointed them out. He cast to them and soon had another on. This time, he landed it. He explained that it was no use casting out and retrieving the fly. These trout seem to take mainly on the drop, which means you first have to find your trout and cast before it, letting the fly drop into it's window of vision. The rather cynical theory behind it is that such a presentation more or less resembles the behaviour of a trout pellet. They aren't really used to aquatic life as food.

I went on a wander around the lake, but most of the other side was shallow and full of weed. I finished up at the spot where Colin first started and saw two nice rainbows passing by. I cast to one, but dropped the fly too far behind. Excitedly, I lifted the fly and attempted a delicate recast, but managed the most ghastly birds nest instead.

It took ages to tie on another leader and fly and by then the fish had disappeared. While I was doing that, the local chap tried his luck in the river and hooked a very good brown trout, around 2.7 kilos (6lb). It was only on for a few seconds, before it broke him. He reckons the fishery owner has stocked a few large brownies in the stream up to 4 kilos (9 lb). He had been fishing all day with a gold head damsel and a half-sunk daddy long legs. Apparently the green bead head damsels were doing better the previous day.

Seeing no fish nearby, I cast out to deeper water, allowed the fly to drop and retrieved slowly. On the second cast, I had only just begun the retrieve when I felt a good take. I struck cautiously and soon saw the fish as it came towards me, always a nightmare. Then it saw me and raced off across the lake. It really didn't look all that big, but I couldn't stop it.

Almost at the other end of the lake it stopped and I slowly wound it back, but then it came back at a good lick, forcing me to abandon any attempt to play it on the reel. I had to strip line fast and felt sure the fly would drop out, but somehow, it didn't. Then the dirty swine buried it's head in a dense patch of weed and twisted out leaving the line threaded through the weed.

After that it took several long runs back across the lake, leaving me to fight the weed patch. Who said trout were stupid creatures? Fifteen minutes later the other angler helpfullly netted the fish for me, a very respectable 2.59 kilos (5.75lb) and took the following photos.

Double rainbow at Dever.                  Double rainbow at Dever#2.

We headed back to the lodge to weigh and bag up the fish. The fishery supply rolls of plastic sleeving to slip your fish into, saving your bags from a lot of mess.

It was time to pack up and head for a curry house. Colin was pretty despondent with three blanks in a row and nothing to look forward to, other than a Vindaloo. I think he should take a stick of dynamite next time.

Just as we were about to enter the restaurant his mobile phone rang. His father was dangerously ill and he had to rush to the hospital. He was worried, but with grim humour remarked that he would ask him to pick a more convenient time to be ill next time. His dad had survived that crisis when I rang a couple of days later and apparently, the day was not completely lost. Around 11pm, Colin was able to leave the hospital and went straight to his favourite Indian take away restaurant only to find they were locking up the place. As he was walking away, the owner recognised him and called him back. He got his curry after all. I ended up with a tinned fish sandwich, which someone might think was poetic justice, but I can't think who.