Spring Trout and Spring Weather.
Surely the spring trout-fisher is the most hopeful of all the sanguine
and long-suffering brotherhood! How many bitter disappointments and how
much bitter weather is required to convince one spring fly-fisher that
he had better defer his attempts at sport till the blizzards are over?
Last spring was no worse than usual, but the feel of that cutting east
wind still haunts my dreams, and, worse than all, the trout taken were
both fewer and smaller than in the previous July on the same water.
Two days only out of six were really good, and even then the trout,
though numerous and lively, averaged but little over the quarter of a
pound. Certainly they took the blue upright with a will, and did not
require much stalking, and now and then a nice half-pounder gave a
really satisfactory bit of sport.
I see by my diary that the “coch y bondu” was almost as successful as
the “blue upright,” and that dry-fly fishing was nearly useless so early
in the season, though fish could often be seen rising on the smooth
glides. Sometimes not a fin could be stirred for hours, so that one had
plenty of leisure to note the exceptional beauty of the budding woods,
and to listen to all the love-notes of the birds. When sport is lively
all these things are only dimly felt, as heightening enjoyment. When
trout are sulky, then we feel the difference between the silence and
comparative gloom of late summer woods, and the joyous choruses of early
spring; and nowhere is this more marked than among the lovely sylvan
scenes on the banks of Somerset streams.
Among other advantages, water is generally plentiful and not too clear.
In the wild uplands on the borders of the moor the bushes and brambles
which line the streams are not yet developed into the impenetrable
thickets that bar one’s progress in the summer, and many a spot then
unfishable, even with the aid of waders, can now be reached at small
cost of scratches.
I must confess that these inner sanctuaries did not yield me many
victims, my basket on the day I went up the hills being the lightest of
the week, and the fish the smallest.
Nevertheless, I think the Horner Woods stream, near Porlock, a charming
spot, and worth another trial; for adverse winds may have been
responsible for the poor sport. It is easy, I believe, for the
fly-fisher to get leave on this water, and it is within a mile or two of
Porlock. I cycled from Washford, the other side of Minehead, and found
it a delightful ride. I think all anglers will find a cycle convenient
in this district, as roads are fairly good, and distances from stream to
stream often considerable. It is rather monotonous to fish one stream
continually, and the change of scene and novel exercise heighten one’s
pleasure. It also enables the angler to choose more comfortable quarters
than might always be obtainable close to the fishing; for a run of a
mile or two is of hardly any consequence, and it is not always that such
rooms as were secured for us (within the precincts of Cleve Abbey) can
be had.
This old ruin is close to the stream, and can be examined by the
wandering angler at very little cost either of time or money. It is well
worth a visit. Washford is the station, but it is within an easy ride of
Minehead, where comfortable rooms and good attendance can always be had,
and from whence excursions, by coach and boat, are continually going on
to many of the loveliest parts of Somerset and Devon.
One disappointment experienced during this spring visit was perhaps not
due to the time of year. A large and deep pool, formed by the stream
right down on the seashore, had sometimes yielded capital sport in July,
fish being large and plentiful, though very shy. Some shifting of the
sands had now greatly reduced its depth, and the trout had almost
deserted it, only two half-pounders falling to my flies. Last year
several of the fish taken here were ¾ lb. or more, and the novelty of
landing good trout (and not sea-trout) on the sands added to the charm.
I have only done so once before, and that was hundreds of miles away, at
the mouth of Crocket’s celebrated “Skyreburn,” in the north.
As it is possible that this sea-pool may have improved again this
spring, I advise any angler who finds himself near to give it a careful
trial, especially if there is a strong wind blowing; for this greatly
increases one’s chances. Curiously enough, a little black gnat is the
best fly here, but it is worth while to try larger flies if weather is
rough. I think that many of the mouths of trout-streams might be fished
carefully with good effect, the trout being often larger and better fed
than those in the stream itself. Probably they often go a little way out
to sea, and get shrimps, &c., in certain states of the tide. At the
worst it is a pleasant change to cast a long line over broad water,
after being somewhat cramped and hampered in a narrow and much bushed
stream. It must be remembered that permission is required from the local
landowners for these parts of the streams, as well as for the upper
waters.