Hanningfield – 9th June 2001

Keen to see if we could repeat our success in April, Walter and I returned to Hanningfield on a sunny June morning. There was a slight chill in the wind, but it wasn’t strong enough to cause any discomfort.

Our first stop was a short drift between the cages. Within five minutes, I had a good tug on my Cats Whisker fly and struck. Whatever it was, it took line and stayed out of sight for several minutes. After four minutes, it surfaced and looked a very nice rainbow. It seemed to take offence at the sight of me and refused to come to the net for another couple of minutes, but it was duly netted and given the last rites, a fine ‘bow of 5 ¼ lb.

A fit Hanningfield rainbow of 5 1/4lb (2.36k)

I’d brought a Shakespeare Aerial 6 piece travelling rod for convenience. It is 9ft 6" and a #7. Although it is a cheap rod, it has a good action and will cast a respectable distance whilst weighing little more than a feather.

Right, we thought, it is going to be just like April again. Ten minutes later we drifted away from the cages and another twenty minutes later, I was into another fish. Well I was for a moment, but the leader immediately snapped at the dropper knot.

I was using fluorocarbon leader material and was surprised it snapped so easily. To avoid a repetition, I changed from two turn to four turn water knots. Since then, I have discovered that flourocarbon dropper knots have to be tied very carefully, making sure the knots are well lubricated and tightened very slowly to prevent friction weakening the knots.

Walter was keen to try the inlet by a corner of the dam wall, so tried to start the engine. After 10 minutes of yanking the cord, he called out a bailiff. When he arrived, he pulled the cord in a steady, almost slow action and it started first go. Hmmm.

It took a good half hour before I caught again. This fish fought well and I thought I had it beat, when it shot over the net and darted beneath the boat like a torpedo.

As it disappeared, I heard a crack and looked up to see my rod broken at the fifth section. I thought the section had worked loose and broken at the female end, but actually, it had broken at the whipping over a rod ring. The wall of the blank is very, very thin on these rods and won’t take any abuse.

Still, there was enough rod left for me to play and net this fish.

Luckily, Walter had a spare rod, a superannuated 10ft Hardy fibreglass job. It was heavy compared to graphite and has a slow all through action, but it casts a decent length of line.

Ten minutes later, I had yet another fish, which was a lot easier to get to the net as the Hardy has a lot more power than the Shakespeare.

We drifted to a promontory along the dam and anchored up, anticipating where the fish would travel past the tip as they worked up and down the dam.

The water was gin clear and I saw the next fish take my fly some twenty feet down. I was able to watch some of the fight, but it then went off a distance before finally coming up to the surface and circling the boat. It ended in the net nonetheless.

Walter was getting rather agitated meanwhile. Although I gave him a couple of my Cats Whiskers, he had had to watch me catch a steady number of trout while he failed to get even a tug. It is one of those mysteries of fishing and the most plausible explanation I could come up with is that he was on the engine and may have got petrol on his hands. Trout have a good sense of smell and may be put off by strong odours.

Noting the boil from the aerators some distance off, we thought we would have a drift over them before settling in the far corner of the fishery.

Trying a fry pattern with a red tag I got a good pull on the fly as I passed over the boil. The trout leapt out of the water shaking it s head and I saw it throw the hook.

I had a final fish in the corner around 2.30pm. We fished on until dusk and covered much of the reservoir, trying teams of buzzers and small nymphs. I had time to take a wonderful photo of the sunset just before Walter finally connected with a fish. It was a small rainbow of about 1 ½ lb and promptly threw the hook in mid air barely a second after taking the fly. He was too disgusted to carry on after that. I have known that feeling and will again, I'm sure. Fly fishing is a mysterious art after all.

Hanningfield in a different light