This is a neat little article from Chris Gray about heading up to Yorkshire to fish the River Bain, England's shortest river.
The river Bain is England’s shortest river according to those who know these things. The river flows across limestone from Lake Semer Water (Yorkshire’s largest natural lake).
Its course only lasts for two miles until it joins the Ure (Yore) by the church at Bainbridge. Because of the descent it is not possible to fish it all. The rights to fish are with the Wensleydale Angling Club. A guest ticket is available from the Rose and Crown in Bain Village and will set you back £12.00 currently.
I am led to believe that Lake Semer Water holds trout but is mostly a mixed coarse fishery consisting of perch and roach. It is also believed to hold a drowned village. Anyway enough about folklore - onto the fishing.
Having bought my ticket and armed with a map I proceeded up to Countersett village and parked on the hillside and walked down to the bridge being the start of the river. The day was chilly and the last two days had been plagued with north easterly winds. Above the meadow the lapwings were wheeling around with their cries of peewits and one could make out a grouse or two croaking in the background.
On the river itself there was no sign of any surface activity so it meant that I would have to “fish the water”. But how do you fish with flies, a river that’s surface is moving one way against the current which is obviously moving the other way? You don’t waste your time.
So having walked about a three quarters of a mile the river started it’s natural flow downhill and began to look promising. There had been a few midge hatches over the last two days so I guessed it would not be that different today. And the set up was as follows with the hatching midge on point.
Trees started to appear on both banks as I passed Gilledge Wood and the walking began to get a little trickier as one negotiated the roots and rocks.
I reached a pool and the sun seemed to shine through for a while and in front of me a hatch of midge was underway. The line was cast and the middle fly was taken confidently by a trout that propelled itself up through the gloom.
After the obligatory photo or two he was returned safely, if a little dazed, to his home in the river. Not the largest of fish but still a beauty and an ambition fulfilled of having caught a fish on the fly on the shortest river in England.