Fishing is more than just standing in a river catching some trout. It is about good company, a few laughs and of course some trout too. Kris Kent explains more.
Angling is in the main for me, a solitary pursuit. After a long week working with hoards of people nirvana is to escape to the river and spend a bit of me time with some wild brown trout or grayling. But from time to time it is nice to spend time with like minded individuals. A day on the river with a good friend or sharing a pint or two chatting about fish and fishing. Last year I was introduced to a wonderful opportunity to just that.
Each year the ‘Three Monnowteers’ – Rob Denny, Neil Marfell and Patrick Lloyd – stalwarts of the Monnow Rivers Association (MRA), with help from many others, organise the Monnow Social. A fabulous festival of fun, food, friends and fishing. This annual early May weekend gathering has been running for seven years and has built up a loyal following from those anglers who have discovered the joys of the Monnow catchment. The idea is to spend the days fishing the Monnow and its tributaries and the evenings eating, drinking and making merry.
This year I couldn’t get to the campsite at Longtown in time for the Friday night warm up due to work commitments in Scotland. So I arrived on the Saturday morning just before 7am to find everyone still tucked up in their tents or camper vans. All was peaceful apart from the odd bleat from the sheep in the meadow next door.
My good friends Simon and Dusty had very kindly erected my tent for me the previous day so I set to unloading the car and setting up the camp bed. Everything stowed away I headed over to the marquee in the hope of finding some coffee. The marquee is Social Central where all the eating, drinking and talking shite takes place. The ‘kitchen bitches’, a friendly bunch of volunteers who organise the food, had the kettle on and were starting to fry off sausages and bacon in readiness for the hungry hoard descending. As I stirred my first coffee of the morning dribs and drabs of ‘Socialites’ starting to emerge from their sleeping bags, like caddis emerging from their cases. It had clearly been a good Friday night. People were looking a little fragile and seemed annoyed by my well rested chirpiness so I turned down my early morning enthusiasm.
I was upset to hear that I had missed out on a scrumptious lamb stew the previous evening. Much of the food is provided by Jon Kerr, the trout fishing chef and proprietor of the Coach & Horses at Ganborough near Stow-on-the-Wold. Jon is another fan of the Monnow, an accomplished angler and a great supporter of the Social. By the time I had downed my fourth coffee almost everyone had risen and were milling around the marquee waiting for the eggs to fry.
Reports of the fishing on Friday were mixed. Most people had only managed an hour or two in-between setting up tents and dinner. Heavy rain during the week meant the main river was up and a little coloured but good hatches meant the fish were looking up and rising to the naturals and the imitations. John Aplin’s party up from Dorset seemed to have had the best of it. This all whetted my appetite for the day ahead.
With breakfast out of the way and tummies full it was time for the allocation of beats. The ‘Monnowteers’ work hard to provide the cream of the fishing on the Monnow catchment. A mixture of day tickets waters, normally available through the Wye and Usk Passport scheme, and private beats donated by local fishing clubs and riparian owners.
The River Monnow, or Afon Mynwy in Welsh, flows through south-west Herefordshire, eastern Monmouthshire. For much of its length it marks the border between England and Wales before it joins the River Wye at Monmouth. The Monnow has a number of major tributaries including the Escley Brook, Olchon Brook, Afon Honddu and River Dore. This means there is plenty of opportunity to try somewhere new. The previous few days’ rain meant that the main stem of the Monnow was a little high and carrying some colour. So Rob, Neil and Patrick decided it would be better to save the Monnow for Sunday and fish the tributaries on the Saturday. The next question was who would fish with whom? Some of the regulars like to fish as a party. Singletons like me usually get paired up with other singletons, company for the day. Inexperienced or new attendees get to fish with an old hand who knows the river well.
I was allocated a beat on the Honddu fishing with David ‘Dusty’ Miller. We grabbed some pork pies, from the local butcher, maps and fishing returns and made busy transferring Dusty’s gear into my car. It didn’t take us long to find the large lay-by that acts as car park for the beat and we set about pulling on waders and stringing up rods. It was a cold morning and it looked like we might still get a shower or two so I donned a fleece and wading jacket. We were fairly well up the Honddu valley and whilst I couldn’t see the river I guessed a fairly short rod might be the order of the day so I put up a 7 foot rod. The wind was still blustery so I picked a 4 weight in case I needed to cast into the wind. We crossed the road, hopped over the gate and made our way down the hill to where the river was hiding in the trees. It was a gory walk. A disemboweled rabbit lay just inside the gate. We passed the remnants of a well plucked bird half way down the hill and a bleached sheep’s skull and jaw bone near the river. The killing fields of east Wales! Later we saw a drowned Magpie and a dead sheep.
The Honddu at Lower Henllan is a fairly typical upland stream. There are a few deep corner pools and longer runs but mostly the Honddu tumbles down the valley spilling over rocks confined within steep banks lined with twisted stunted trees. Nothing was hatching and no fish were rising so I tied on a buoyant Elk Hair Caddis type pattern that I tossed into the bulging water in front of rocks or the slack water behind them. I tossed it into the fast runs and the seams between the fast and slow water. I tossed it under trees, along the exposed roots and hard up against the banks. I expected small eager trout to throw themselves eagerly at my offering. I tossed and tossed and nothing threw itself at my offering. Dusty did likewise with a weighted nymph and got a similar result. As I neared the top of a staircase of short fast pools towards the bottom of the beat I saw Peter Dawson lurking high above me on top of the steep bank. Peter had followed us with his camera keen to get some shots for the MRA website. He was gesturing towards a long run that bounced off the left bank under a tree before slowing at the tail of the pool just in front of me. I could tell by the look on his face that it must be a rising fish. I stood and stared trying the discern fish and the rise form. There were a few small Olives and some Large Brook Duns trickling off and fluttering away downstream. The rise was discreet so I guessed the fish was taking emergers rather than duns so I switched my Caddis pattern for a Deer Hair Emerger.
Second cast the fish took it confidently and we were off the mark. A beautiful wild brown trout that Peter caught on camera as I raised it in triumph.
Thinking I’d cracked it I proceeded to prospect casting the Deer Hair Emerger into every likely spot. The fish ignored it resolutely. Towards the middle of the beat the river is spanned by a high arched stone bridge. The bridge was never finished due to a dispute between landowners, which is a pity as it would have made a very fine bridge. The run under and below the bridge looked fishy. The emerger wasn’t working and nothing was rising, despite the trickle of upwings, so I thought Klink & Dink might be worth a go. I picked a shaggy hare's ear bodied Klinkhammer and a small red collared pheasant tail nymph. It was a little cumbersome to cast on the short soft action rod but it did the trick. I had three fish on the nymph and two on the Klink even before I got under the bridge. I managed to get the rig tight up against the left wall of the bridge where the main flow was and the Klink disappeared violently as a better stamp of fish took the nymph. I never saw the fish as it threw the hook after a brief tussle but it raised my hopes.
I lost Dusty for some time as I immersed myself in the fishing but eventually found him towards the top of the beat. He had also switched to the Klink & Dink and had managed a couple of fish from a series of pools tumbling down rock ledges. As I watched he teased out another.
We both ran out of steam as we neared the top of the beat so decided to head back to the car and on to the campsite. We obviously lacked the enthusiasm of the others as the campsite was empty when we got back. Everyone else was still busy on the river we guessed. As I still had a rod strung up I wandered down to the bottom of the field where the Monnow slips by unseen from the tents. As I wandered up I found Simon wading up a promising looking pool. He and his partner Andy had struggled on their beat of the Honddu, below where Dusty and I were fishing, and decided to head back early. Simon obviously had an itch that needed scratching. Luckily the fish were being more accommodating on the Monnow. Simon and I managed a handful of nice wild brownies before our thoughts started turning to the evening festivities. As we had to walk back past the pub conveniently sited just by the entrance to the campsite it seemed rude not to stop for a pint. We sat in our waders on two somewhat too small folding chairs enjoying the evening sun and sipping a pint of Otter whilst reflecting on a day of mixed fortunes.
We had to get back to the Social after only one pint because Simon was supposed to be giving the kitchen bitches a master class in barbecuing steaks. Simon, being South African, is genetically predisposed to cooking large slabs of meat over an open fire and he does it very well.
Our fellow fishermen were gathering around the marquee as we wandered back in sharing war stories and comparing sizes and quantities of fish caught. Most everyone seemed to have had a good day despite the somewhat blustery conditions. Two newcomers were looking particularly pleased with themselves. This was their first Social and virtually their first experience of fly fishing a river. Neil and Rob had taken them in hand and spent the day guiding them on a section of the main river. The large brook duns had been hatching off steadily and the fish had responded, rising throughout the day. Quite an introduction to the joys of river angling. Ian ended the day with the largest fish, a beauty of over 18 inches.
After our superb dinner of soup followed by steak, wonderfully cooked over charcoal, with two sauces all washed down with a pint or two of local Wye Valley Brewery ale it was time for the auction. The Monnow Rivers Association raises money through the Social to fund eradication of invasive species, such as Mink and Himalayan Balsam, and river restoration work. The auction contributes to this. We all bring something by way of a donation and the others bid to win it. My donation was a hip flask full of homemade sloe gin. Rob acts as auctioneer and works hard to relieve us from as much of our hard earned money as possible whilst Patrick struggles to keep up with recording who bought what and for how much. Nothing grabbed me until the fishing lots came around. The chance to fish with Social regular Gareth Lewis on his home waters of the Usk peaked my interest and I bid hard. Success came at a price, but it was worth it.
With the main business of the evening out of the way we could now concentrate on the important task of getting paralytic. Someone had lit the fire and stoked it up such that it was just about bearable to stay outside. Our fronts lightly toasted and our backs lightly frosted. As the night wore on the tales got taller and the fish got longer. By midnight I was all in, it had been a long week, so I made my excuses and made the long walk to the thunderbox before retiring to the comfort of my camp bed.
Considering it was under canvas I slept quite well, only briefly woken by Morgan bleating loudly at a bothersome ewe. No one else was up so I busied myself tidying up the marquee and boiling water for coffees. I could have amply fitted out the drinks cabinet with all the bottles of this and that abandoned about the place. Instead I lined them up on the table ready for their winners to arrive for breakfast.
On the Sunday I was lucky enough to get the chance to fish with Lee Evans. Lee is another Social regular and local boy, a demon with the nymph. It was his birthday and I’m not sure I was what he had wished for his birthday present. I was also lucky enough to draw the beat that had produced the ‘Big One’ for Ian the previous day. Good omens. Lodges is a private beat just downstream of Pandy. We crossed the bailey bridge full of anticipation. The river still looked a little high and coloured but Lee immediately saw a fish rise. We parked up about halfway along the beat and wandered down using the opportunity to catch up and reflect on previous outings together. Lee is a pleasure to fish with. Good company and an excellent angler. We saw a few more rises along the way and as we reached the bottom of the beat there were a couple of fish rising steadily in a fast run. Lee left me to find some faster water and I set about putting the fish down, which I did very effectively. The dun pattern which had caught fish yesterday didn’t cut the mustard so I switched to a Deer Hair Emerger and immediately picked up a couple of fish from the next pool. As the hatches of Large Brook Duns came and went so did the rises. One minute they were everywhere, the next minute nothing. I spent the time in between hatches studying the insects as they dried off on the rocks and pebbles riverside.
This section of the Monnow is peculiar. Mid beat the river splits into a number of channels criss-crossing between islands, some running with water some dry as a bone. The narrow channels often clogged with large woody debris swept down on winter spates.
I caught up with Lee up to his waist in one of these channels busy winkling out a succession of trout, plus a few out of season grayling, Klink & Dinking. I sat on the bank admiring his technique and poured myself a coffee. As we chatted a roe deer hurled itself into the river a few yards upstream of Lee, he nearly jumped clean out of his waders. I’m not sure whether it was Lee and I or the deer that was most surprised. The deer certainly didn’t hang around to discuss it with us. Lee was keen to prospect around in this braided section whilst I wanted to find some rising fish so I moved on upstream. I didn’t see any fish on the fin until I was about to emerge from the trees. Suddenly a small pod of trout were busy taking duns washed in from a fast run under the trees on the far bank. The pool was about the size of a bath tub. I tentatively waded into a deep hole diagonally below them and cast to the fish sitting at the back of the pod. It took the Deer Hair Emerger enthusiastically. I felt sure all the splashing would spook the others but they continued rising apparently unaware that I had just caught their compatriot. I caught all six fish in relatively quick order, working up the bath tub, all on the DHE, the best was a little over 15 inches.
I slumped back onto the grass bank and felt quietly satisfied with myself. My reward was lunch. Lee appeared through the trees just as I cracked the cap off my bottle of beer. As we ate lunch we watched a pair of sparrowhawks hunting swallows over the cow pastures adjacent to the river. It was like a Wold War Two dog fight unfolding before us. The swallows had the upper hand though.
As the hatch started to thin out the rises were fewer and farther between. I managed a few more fish up in the trees towards the top of the beat. I was particularly proud of two of these fish. One fish was well downstream of me in a section where you couldn’t cast up to the fish. But with a long downstream cast stopped high and a good deal of mending I managed to get the fly down to the fish and it took confidently. The other fish was hard up against the far bank just below a willow hanging in the water. I bounced the fly off the bank so it landed an inch in front of its neb, more by luck than judgement, and it hammered it.
The long drive home meant that by 17.00ish I was starting to think about packing up. I found Lee in the fast water up by the bridge still catching fish on the Klink & Dink. He felt the same so we retreated to the cars. As I wound my way back to the M4 I reflected on another wonderful Monnow Social. Old friendships renewed and new friendships kindled. Good times, good food and good beer. And some beautiful Monnow Trout
Thank Yous
Thank you to Peter Dawson, Simon Clarke, Gareth Lewis, Neil Hotchen and Lee Evans for allowing me to use their photos and to the Monnow Rivers Association for all their help and support with this article and for organising the Social.
More details on the Monnow Rivers Association can be found at:
http://www.monnow.org/
Information on fishing available through the Wye and Usk Foundation is available at:
http://www.wyeuskfoundation.org/
Jon Kerr’s pub restaurant is the Coach & Horses at Ganborough:
http://www.coachandhorsesganborough.co.uk/