A sudden change in Kris Kent's life means the car is packed and he's hitting the road looking for grayling
My parents grew up in an era of relative job security. My father only worked for two organisations and it was his choice to leave, my mother was much the same. These days it is rare to stay with one organisation throughout your career, sometimes through one’s own choices, a lack of loyalty, or often simply because organisations have developed a ‘hire and fire’ culture. I recently met a young lady in her late twenties who had been made redundant three times during her short career. I’d never considered the possibility of being made redundant, until recently. It was a Wednesday morning and my boss asked me in for a quick chat, he announced there wasn’t enough work to justify my continued employment and that I wouldn’t have a job from the end of the week. It was quite a shock, especially as it was just before Christmas. Whilst not having a job is very unsettling, bills to pay etc, it does give you the opportunity to reflect on your life, consider your future and the options available to you, to do some of those things you never have time to do. I made the decision to not rush into another job, not sure I would have been able to really, and to take the time in the run up to Christmas to catch up on my beauty sleep and invest in some ‘me time’.
Cover of Trout Bum
I’m a massive fan of John Gierach, the American fisherman and author. Trout Bum was the first of his books that I read and I was truly envious of his lifestyle. Basically, it involved going fishing in various locations across the Americas, sometimes further afield, and then writing about his experiences. What’s not to like? In Trout Bum Gierach chronicles “fly fishing not as a recreation but as a sub-culture, a lifestyle” or what Thomas McGuane once described as “a way of looking at the world”. Inspired by Gierach I decided to emulate the book and become a Trout Bum, at least for a few weeks. My first problem was that it was November, the trout season was closed so no fishing for trout. I would have to become a Grayling Bum instead. My next problem was that no one wanted to go fishing in November. Diaries were already tied up, people didn’t want to take time off before the Christmas break, wives weren’t very sympathetic when Christmas shopping and so on needed doing. What to do?
As luck would have it I didn’t have to think for long. When I knew I would have some time on my hands I’d let Shaun at The Wild Trout Trust know in case he had something I could help out with. Some light administration, fiddling with spreadsheets, some causal organising of something. On the day before I finished at work Shaun called to ask if I would like to help one of the Conservation Officers with a habitat restoration project on the River Dever in Hampshire. So, my first week of unemployment was spent up to my knackers in freezing cold chalk stream helping Mike Blackmore and the keeper at Bullington, Jonny Walker, build berms, put in deflectors, excavate pools, rake out new gravel beds whilst being generally useful. At the end of the week, my arms ached and I was proper tired but extremely satisfied having helped transform a previously very poor section of river habitat. Seeing fish immediately take up residence in the new pools we’d created generated an immediate sense of having made a difference. Jonny has since reported seeing trout spawning on the new gravel redds. Result.
Dever restoration team
One of the benefits with being unemployed is that you can do whatever you want, whenever you want to. The downside is that the lack of pressure means that sometimes you end up doing nothing at all. When in work the fact that you only have a short weekend to squeeze everything into creates a sense of urgency. No work, no urgency. In the week after the Dever I slept in a lot and loafed about a good deal. Whilst I felt rested and refreshed I did feel that I was wasting my time. I needed something in the diary to give me some focus and discipline.
My first opportunity to get out after the ladies came towards the end of November. I’d been approached by one of the angling magazines to do a couple of articles on grayling fishing to promote the Grayljng Society. My first idea was an article on stalking big grayling. Where to you go to catch big grayling? For me it has to be the Frome in Dorset. John Aplin very kindly said I could come down and fish with him on the Little Syndicate waters and his private beat. He also arranged for us to fish the following day on the Dorchester club waters with friend and member John Grindle.
The morning started on the North Stream, a side channel of the Frome. I had a date with some big grayling I’d spotted during a trip for trout earlier in the year. The big ones I’d seen weren’t visible in the pool but I did manage a nice fish to start the day.
First fish from the North Stream
After lunch, we headed for John’s Home Beat over on the main river. The larger ladies were being elusive with only John managing to tempt one out on a nymph. It was a fitting end to the day.
Nice fish for John Aplin from the Home Beat
John Grindle met us at the Dairy House for a breakfast roll before we headed into Dorchester and the club waters. John Aplin does a mean coffee and roll to get the day going. The club waters were more coloured than we’d experienced the previous day and sight fishing wasn’t on the cards so I had to rely on John and John pointing out the hot spots. That said the spots weren’t very hot and we struggled to get two in the net during the morning session. Mr Grindle is a bit of a foodie so our lunchtime repast was a real treat. After lunch the grayling continued to prove elusive. Mr Aplin and I left John to fish up a long run towards the road bridge whilst we tried to track a few fish down. No sooner had we dropped into a pool than we got a call from Mr G to say he was into a better fish. Not sure how he manged to use his phone whilst fighting a good grayling? When we got back to him it was in the net and John was looking very pleased with himself. The best fish of the day.
Cracking grayling for John Grindle from the Dorchester Town Beat
The following week I had to get the photos shot for the next Grayling Society article, this time in North Wales. I had won an auction lot at the Grayling Society Symposium, a day on the Welsh Dee fishing with Grayling Society Chairman Rob Hartley. It seemed like the ideal opportunity to get another article in the bag. We roped in General Secretary Rod Calbrade to take the photos and local fishing guru Karl Humphries to provide the local intel. Rob insisted I stay at his place in Cheshire the night before, the only problem was this meant quaffing a few bottles of Argentinian Malbec before bedtime. The following morning I was a bit woolly headed as we drove across the border into north Wales. It was a longish stroll from the fisherman’s car park where we mustered down to the river. It gave us the opportunity to get to know each other a bit better and plan out the day.
In deep on the Dee
The Dee was up a foot or so but clear. Getting into the best spots did involve a bit of deep wading. But it was worthwhile as I got straight into a shoal of grayling in the faster water on the opposite bank. The Dee ladies were being generous and Rod was very happy to get a few fish shots on file early on. My most memorable moment was just after lunch. Wading up a deep pool fishing heavy nymphs bumped along the bottom I noticed a fish rising in the bubble lane just ahead of me. I shouted to Rod and told him to put on a dry fly. He didn’t believe me until he saw the fish rise. Joining me in the pool Rod cast to where I was pointing and the fish took his Olive Dun first time, almost as it landed. Excellent guiding.
Rob Hartley into one on the dry fly
Of course, the problem with saying you will write an article is that eventually you have to write the article. Luckily after I got back from the Dee I had a few free days. I find writing tricky when there are other things to do so I switched off the TV after breakfast, turned on Radio 4 and put the mobile on silent. By the time it was time for dinner and I had the majority of two articles done and dusted, just needed to check some references and find some links. Polishing and finishing off should take another half a day.
A few years back I decided I would like to catch a pike on the fly and spent a day with my friend Charles at Bowood learning the ropes with David Wolsoncroft-Dodds. I was bitten by the pike bug and invested in a few rods and reels for the purpose. Unfortunately, I struggled to find good waters and my interest waned. So, I was very excited when I got an invite to go piking beginning of December, it would make a nice change from the grayling. Shaun Leonard, Wild Trout Trust Director, wanted to say thank you for all my help with the WTT’s annual auction and a day after Esox Lucious on the Test at Broadlands seemed fitting.
A heavy mist hung over the river as we walked upstream peering into likely lies on the way. I was busy picking Shaun’s brains, having only ever fished for pike on stillwaters. As with all fishIing, river craft is key to success with pike. Bays, slack water, weed rafts all looked like good holding spots. Shaun reckoned we would have our best chance early and late in the day, concentrating on the margins. Working back downstream casting into the likely spots reccied on the way up Shaun was first into a fish. It was approaching lunchtime and hooked in mid water just above a footbridge. So much for conventional wisdom.
Nice pike for Shaun
A few yards downstream of the bridge I got into my first pike. It wasn’t on for long. Don’t think my strip strike was quite affirmative enough. In fact I never actually got one on the bank that day. Plenty of jacks were on and then off, long range catch and release. My key learning point that day was stealth. Far too often the pike would see me as they followed the fly in, turning away at the last minute.
My regular fishing buddy Charles had December off in between jobs too. His plan was to go fishing a lot but his wife had other ideas, including decorating the house and re-laying the floors. I did manage to tempt him out for a day on the Itchen, as a thank you for all the guest days on his club waters. Charles treated me to a fry up at his place before we hit the water, he lives within spitting distance of the fishery. The dry autumn meant the Itchen was very low and very clear. It meant we could stand and watch big brownies mooching about on the gravels and some very large salmon holding in the deeper pools. Unfortunately, it also meant that the very spooky grayling could also see us. Charles was fishing a traditional single nymph on a tapered leader and casting some distance he managed to land a few early on.
Charles into an Itchen grayling
I’d opted to fish a French leader and was struggling to cover fish effectively in the very thin water. We bumped into Rob the keeper who pointed us in the right direction. He reckoned there was a shoal towards the top of the beat that was worth trying. He also mentioned there was a couple of big pike holding close by the bridge so I picked up my pike rod from the car on route. Charles looked for the grayling whilst I tried to find the pike. I found the first fish tucked in tight against the bank below the bridge and above a willow. It was impossible to cover effectively and my clumsy casts spooked it so I gave up and headed off to find Charles. We never found the shoal but Charles did spot and catch a few nicer grayling.
Itchen grayling
Wandering back down towards the hut for some lunch I had a quick look into the river just above the footbridge. To my surprise there was the pike. Whether it was the same fish as earlier I couldn’t be sure but there it was. There was no room for a proper cast so I just unhooked the big pike fly, drew off a little fly line and lobed the fly into the water about four feet above the fish. I gave the fly a tweak to sink it and one more to draw it close by the pike. As it swung in front of it the pike lunged forward and engulfed the fly. I struck hard and the fish was on. It didn’t really fight it just shook its head in disbelief. Charles dropped in below it and scoped the fish up in his somewhat small net. This wasn’t really the plan for the day but it was a nice if unexpected bonus.
An unexpected pike
With Christmas approaching the next couple of days were given over to last minute shopping and dropping off presents. The diary was filling up with fishing dates and a couple of days or proper work so there wasn’t going to be much time for other stuff before the Christmas break.
Whilst Wales is only a short drive from home it isn’t a part of the world I’ve explored enough. So, when Denise decided to move there and insisted I visit this seemed like the ideal opportunity to put things right. That Saturday the motorways and byways were quiet as I made my way west. The weather wasn’t promising though with the drizzle getting heavier and the hills shrouded in cloud. Over breakfast we decided to postpone fishing to the Sunday, the forecast was better and it would give the rivers some time to drop back. Denise wanted to use Saturday to explore some of the fishing local to her new home. In the morning we walked a couple of club beats on the Usk. They were a lovely mix of long glides and fast runs. We could imagine fish rising on the glides to big hatches of Large Dark Olives and March Browns later in the year. It looked like a good club for Denise to join. After a pint and a bite to eat in Sennybridge we tracked down a couple of Wye and Usk Foundation beats on the Cilieni, an Usk tributary close by Denise’s new home. It was a bit overgrown and the bank side path, if you could call it that, was very soggy but again we found a beautiful little river running through ancient oak woodlands. The short deep pools looked like they should hold a good head of wild brownies.
That evening over a fabulous dinner we reminisced about previous trips to Slovenia and the Lake District and made plans for our outing the following day.
Irfon at Llanfechan
Denise fancied trying the Irfon and we picked the Wye and Usk Foundation booking office beat at Llanfechan. We parked up outside the wonderful white house the sits perched high above valley with panoramic views over the Irfon. The river was dropping back after the previous day's rain, it was clear but still pushing through at a good pace. We walked a good way up the beat trying every likely looking spot but the grayling were elusive. The only fish we saw before lunch was a large spent salmon dying from the rigours of spawning.
Big Irfon salmon
After lunch,I came upon a pool with fast water cutting a deep channel down the middle with long gravel banks on either side. It looked fishy so I started on the flat water at the tail and started working up. I missed a take on the third or fourth cast. Cursing myself for wasting the only opportunity of the day so far, I checked my rig and flies. The point fly didn’t look heavy enough for the increasingly deep water so I switched to CDC collared Red Tag Jig with a big gold tungsten bead.
CDC Red Tag Jig and Pink Shrimp
A few casts later everything went tight and the only grayling of the day turned its big dorsal fin into the current and did all it could to avoid the net. I was glad to have caught a grayling on a new river but disappointed for Denise.
Denise sent me off the following morning with a good breakfast. I retraced my route to the M4 but rather than turning left for home I turned right towards Bridgend. It seemed quiet for a Monday morning and I made good time. Even so Geoff beat me to the fisherman’s car park and was already kitted up as I pulled in. The previous year I had visited the Ewenny during one of Geoff’s Grayling Society Area Days. Unfortunately, heavy rain washed us off by lunchtime without a fish in the proverbial bag. Geoff was keen to get me back, so when I mentioned I was going to be in South Wales he insisted I visit. As we stood by the hut the river looked in good fettle and a good deal lower than my last visit. Last time, I hadn’t even realised there was a fish pass on the weir the water was so high.
Fish pass on the Ewenny
Geoff and I plodded across a very soggy field looking for the access points that would provide entry to the Ewenny. Wading is discouraged during the winter months as this stretch is very productive sea trout spawning ground. One is allowed to step in to cover the water but then reverse out and move onto the next access point. Geoff dropped me off and headed upstream, I would catch him up and then we would hop over one another fishing the most productive stretches. The first run didn’t produce anything but in the second I had two fish out from the back edge of a deep pool. I hoped I’d tracked down a shoal but two and only two fish were had. It was the same in the next run. When I caught up with Geoff he had found the same, two fish caught and then no more.
Ewenny grayling
The fish weren’t where I expected them, on the broad shallow gravelly glides. The best fish of the day came from a sweeping bend overhung by brambles. I expected a take at the tail but it came in the middle of the bend, the deepest point. At 15” it was a good grayling for the Ewenny and it had been a pleasure catching it in Geoff’s excellent company and with his sage advice. With the day’s drizzle starting to turn into more persistent rain we decided to call it a day and to head back to Geoff’s charming farmhouse to freshen up. Geoff insisted I stay over in the ‘granny flat’, more of a ‘granny cottage’ to be honest’. Our lovely day on the Ewenny was crowned by a meet up at Geoff’s local with fellow Grayling Society members Steven and Christian.
Steven, Geoff and Christian in the pub
A fine meal and a few pints made a fitting conclusion to our day and allowed me to make plans with Steven for my final day in South Wales.
Steven met me at Geoff’s for breakfast. Veronica, Geoff’s wife, laid on a fine full English for us. I then had to follow Steven the 45-minute journey back past Cardiff and onto Llanbradach, just outside Caerphilly. The plan was to fish two club waters on the Rhymney. Steven’s mother in-law lives nearby and he has joined two clubs as a means of escape during visits with his wife. Nice strategy. The previous day’s rain had persisted and the Rhymney was rising as we surveyed it from the foot bridge. Dropping in under the footbridge we worked downstream lobbing heavy nymphs into the fast run under the opposite bank, one of Steven’s favourite spots. He was shocked when nothing came out but I figured that the fish might be moving into quieter water anticipating a spate. Sure enough, as we approached the road bridge and the slower flatter water I started to get takes. I missed the first five fish, the after effects of the previous nights visit to the pub dulling my senses. Eventually I tuned in and started to bring some lively grayling to hand.
Rhymney grayling
The Rhymney is a bigger river than the Ewenny and holds a better stamp of fish. They were also shoaled up so once we found one we could be assured of a few more. It was a classic urban stretch, flowing past housing estates, behind allotments and alongside the main roads. The river has been heavily adapted by the hand of man. Large stone slabs reinforce the banks, levees for flood defence, weirs and the like. But the grayling didn’t seem to mind.
Steven on the Rhymney
What they did seem to mind was the rising and colouring water. As the day went on the takes petered out and the persistent rain sapped our enthusiasm so by 3pm we decided to call it a day. I’d enjoyed my visit to South Wales, a pleasant alternative to my days on the chalk streams, and I felt that my nymph fishing was improving. But it was time to head home and start preparations for my trip to Cornwall for Christmas.
Back home there was a lot to do with not a lot of time to do it. I was going to be away in Cornwall for a fortnight after a couple of days working in Plymouth so I had to load the car with work stuff and Christmas stuff too. Presents needed wrapping and cards needed writing. I also needed to get a haircut before the drive down to Plymouth.
The two days work in Plymouth went quickly and I used my hotel stay to catch up on some sleep. Before heading to Bude for Christmas I had one last opportunity to wet a line in 2016. Pete Tyjas had invited me over to stay at his and to fish with him on his local rivers. Friday night Pete’s wife Emma treated us to a fabulous dinner. Whilst she cooked Pete and I chatted away sharing war stories and discussing future plans for Eat, Sleep, Fish. The following morning Emma sent us off with bacon rolls, hot flasks of coffee and a packed lunch; we were thoroughly spoilt. The plan was to fish the Tone, just over the border in Somerset, in the morning and then drop by the Exe on the way back to Pete’s after lunch.
Pete on the Tone
The Tone on the beat we fished meandered tightly across rich pasture land, cutting into ruby red soils, cows grazed quietly all around us. It was quite open with the occasional tree here and there. It cut deep pools on the outsides of the tight bends with wide beaches on the inside. Pete quickly tracked down the grayling and we had a great day fishing tag team. The fish were mostly holding just off the main flows in deeper water or adjacent to snags. My best fish came from under my rod tip. There was tangle of woody debris on the opposite side of the river with a still back eddy at the. I lobbed the two nymphs a couple of feet ahead of it and led them back along the seam. Everything went tight just before I lifted off to avoid the snags. In my hand it was perfect, not a scale out of place, no fin damage, bright silver in the weak sun. Not my biggest fish of the season but certainly the most beautiful.
Pete was enjoying himself catching fish and chatting away. He looked pleased as punch with every fish brought to hand.
Pete with a nice Tone grayling
We spent the final few hours of our day on the Exe near Tiverton. A very different river to the Tone. Bigger, steeper gradient, faster flowing, rockier. The first pool below a weir never gave up its secrets although we were sure there were grayling there. Further up we once again found the fish sitting just off the main flows but this time in shallower water. There was a flurry of activity as the sun started to fade and we left the river, our appetites sated.
This Grayling Bum loves his tackle just as much as he loves his fishing. As 2016 gasped its last breaths I celebrated my 50th birthday. Such milestones should be well marked. Jon and Sam, who I was staying with in Cornwall, invited a few of their neighbours round for supper and drinks to honour the occasion. Much wine was quaffed and Jon’s slow cooked smoked brisket went down a storm. My friends and family back home clubbed together and bought me a superb reel handcrafted for me to my own specification by Rawson & Perrin which perfectly complimented the Luke Bannister cane rod that I had treated myself to.
New Rawson & Perrin reel
Luke Bannister and the new rod
So I ended the year a very happy Grayling Bum, if a little hung over. So, if you ever get the chance to become a Grayling, or Trout, Bum, grab the opportunity. Whilst it may not pay the bills it is good for the soul.
Biography:
Kris Kent has been fly fishing and trotting for brown trout and grayling for over 20 years in the UK, Europe and Scandinavia. He is PR Officer for the Grayling Society and helps out The Wild Trout Trust with their online communications and events.