Join Kris Kent on a road trip to three different rivers in search of grayling.
As one year nears its end and another year approaches over the horizon I find my thoughts turning to those halcyon days of summer. Settled weather patterns, warm sun, light breezes, rivers low and clear, fish rising lazily to hatches of upwings. But of course before the summer arrives we have to deal with the cruel winter. Short cold days, line freezing in the rod rings, rain and strong winds, rivers up and down like the proverbial underwear of a lady of the night. A whole different kettle of fish. It’s not the weather I mind as much as the unpredictability. Three recent days on the rivers illustrate the point.
Most of my autumn and early winter grayling fishing had been disastrous. Trips to fish the Eden, Wharfe and Welsh Wye had all been cancelled due to bad weather or been washed out. My one major outing to the Wharfe that did come off resulted in zero grayling. Things weren’t going well. As is the norm no one had been in touch regards going fishing in weeks when three opportunities, like London buses, all arrived at once, and on consecutive days.
The Wild Trout Trust team were having their Christmas get together at The Bull in Fairford, Gloucestershire. Shaun Leonard, the Director, wondered if I would like to join them for dinner and a day fishing on the River Coln. This would normally be very straightforward as I live only forty five minutes from Fairford, unfortunately on this occasion I was going to be in Glasgow on business. Could I get from Glasgow to Gloucestershire in time for dinner? TomTom said it would take about six hours, assuming the traffic behaved itself. If I could get away from Glasgow on time it was just about doable. So I accepted the invitation and made sure my fishing gear was in the car before heading to Scotland. Unusually ‘the best laid plans of mice and men’ didn’t go astray. I got away from Glasgow on time, there were no accidents or major roadworks, no delays at all, the weather wasn’t too bad and I made good progress. I arrived in Fairford a little frazzled but just in time to order a pint and a main course.
The Bull at Fairford
It is always good to meet up with the WTT team and catch up on what’s happening. The craic over dinner was good with new President Jon Beer sharing tales of daring fishing dos. I few pints were quaffed in the bar after dinner before it was time for bed.
A hearty breakfast provided more opportunity to find out what was happening at the Trust and to fuel up for the day ahead. Before heading to the river I popped into the butchers opposite The Bull and stocked up with pork pies, mince pies and lemon drizzle cake. Something quick and easy to eat by the river.
The Trust is so lucky to have some wonderful benefactors and supporters. One of these had let us have access to his private stretch on the Coln, nearby to Fairford, for our fishing day. The heavy rains earlier in the week meant the Coln was high and carrying a slight tinge of colour. The mild weather that had typified the season so far continued and the skies were overcast, conditions looked perfect, apart from the wind. It built during the day getting stronger and more blustery making casting to the Coln’s wily grayling on this tight, heavily tree lined beat tricky. The Trust had helped with work done on this beat over the past few years so we started with a river walk to see how things were progressing. The river looked in excellent fettle. Plenty of mixed habitat that would suit both trout and grayling of various age classes.
At the end of the walk the others headed back downstream so I decided to prospect through the top of the beat. I was almost immediately rewarded with a cracking pound and a half brownie to a tiny Grayling Special Pink on the top dropper. It was fin perfect and showed no signs of spawning, well mended. There is no stocking on this beat so a fish of this size is a very good example, just a pity it was out of season.
Top of beat on the Coln
I crossed over being careful to avoid the redds and worked up a deeper faster run. Two small grayling took the point fly, a heavy pattern tied on a jig hook, before I reached the top boundary and ran out of water. It was good to see the grayling and to see two year classes. They are scarce on this beat despite ideal conditions. As I left the river and headed off to find the others the wind began to grow in ferocity. No one else had had much luck either. A few grayling hooked and lost, a lot spooked. Everyone looked downhearted and the building wind wasn’t increasing optimism. I spent the rest of the day chatting with the others and staring into pools until the light quickly faded and it was time to pack up. A very promising day proved otherwise.
I was glad to get home as I didn’t have long to unpack the car and get ready for day two. I emptied out the work bag and put the washing on whilst grabbing a bite of dinner and getting flasks ready. One flask for coffee and one for mulled wine, well it was nearly Christmas wasn’t it? I checked over my fishing kit making sure I had everything I needed and then checked my emails before heading for bed. In my inbox was an email from John Aplin.
John Aplin into a fish at The Monnow Social
I first met John at last year’s Monnow Social and then again at the Grayling Society Symposium. I’ve known of him for much longer as I retweet his tweets and share his posts on the Wild Trout Trust Facebook page. John is a great supporter of the Grayling Society and WTT in between running his fishery management company and the Dorset Chalk Stream Club he also offers day ticket fishing for brown trout, sea trout, salmon and grayling on eight beats of the Frome, Piddle and Stour in and around Dorchester and has holiday accommodation available in what he calls - The Annexe. My friend Charles and I are always keen to get out and try somewhere new for grayling each winter. We had been looking around for somewhere on the Frome for some time and then I remembered John. He was more than happy to help us out so we booked a day for three rods, Charles and myself plus Denise Ashton from the WTT.
I opened John’s email. John basically said the river was high but fishable but that the forecast for heavy overnight rain might tip it over the edge. He didn’t want us to make the long journey down and be disappointed. Bugger, it looked like we were going to get washed off again. I picked up the phone and rang John. After some debate about the forecast and river conditions I made the executive decision to go for it anyway and texted Charles and Denise to let them know.
I left the house before sunrise as I was to pick Charles up on route. We would meet Denise at John’s place near West Stafford, just outside Dorchester. The sky was dark overhead as a pushed through deep puddles. Things didn’t look good, there had been a lot of overnight rain. The sun was just starting to warm the horizon as I loaded Charles into the car. The sky was still leaden and foreboding. Even Charles didn’t look optimistic. We chatted as we headed south and west. Just before Dorchester TomTom peeled us off onto a narrow lane. As it dipped into Kingston Maulward we got our first glimpse of the Frome as the road rose over an old humped back bridge. To our great surprise it didn’t look too bad. It was maybe a little high with a good flow, but reasonably clear. What we hadn’t accounted for was that hereabouts the Frome isn’t one river but a series of channels and carriers crisscrossing the floodplain. The next channel we crossed a few hundred yards on was a muddy torrent. Would we find the same at John’s? It got even more confusing when the next channel we crossed ran gin clear and sedate over bright gravel, we found out later that this channel was a spring fed winterbourne.
The Dairy House
All was quiet as we pulled up outside The Dairy House, John Aplin’s home. There were no signs of life. We were early so I set about gearing up whilst Charles set about frying bacon. Charles is a bit of an outdoorsman and never happier than when rustling up a bite to eat on his well-loved meths stove. The sizzling and wafts of rendering bacon fat soon had me salivating, very Pavlovian.
I was just wiping the last vestiges of ketchup from the corner of my mouth as John appeared. I sensed he was disappointed to have missed out on the bacon sarnies. but we retreated into his house for a coffee and to chat through the plan for the day. John’s office is a treasure trove of all things fishing. Photos of big fish both freshwater and marine, John does a bit of guiding in the Florida Keys from time to time. There were stuffed and mounted fish including a beauty of a grayling caught by John on the Frome. On every shelf there were fishing books, more than I’d ever seen. He admitted to having over a thousand, quite a collection.
We emerged from the house as Denise arrived so we quickly pulled our gear together and loaded it into the back of John’s pickup. The river is only a short way across the water meadows from John’s house. We decamped at the fishing hut.
The hut on the Home Beat
John gave us a quick overview of the beat before escorting us across the meadow to the bottom of the beat. Several large roe deer ambled off as we neared the bridge, they seemed more curious then scared. Charles and I stood on the foot bridge staring intently into the water as John showed Denise the lie of the land.
John Aplin briefing Denise Ashton on the beat
Denise dropped in where John indicated as he made his way home to get on with some work whilst Charles and I wandered down to find the bottom boundary. Charles is always ready way before me and keen as mustard so he made the first few casts whilst I rigged up.
Charles makes the first cast on the Frome
I still had a French leader on the reel from its last outing on the Dove last grayling season. I was too lazy to change it so just added a new tippet and tied on two nymphs. A heavy caddis pattern tied on a jig on the point and a small Grayling Special Pink on the dropper.
As I took a few snaps of Charles working his nymphs methodically through every promising lie and run the line stopped, the rod arched over and the rod tip started bumping rhythmically. First grayling of the day for Charles.
First grayling for Charles
Charles and I normally fish tag team. Taking it in turns until we either catch a fish or start to feel guilty about hogging the river. This is fine during the long languid days of summer but on short winter days it doesn’t give either angler much opportunity to fish so Charles dumped me and made off upstream in search of more, bigger or better. Rejected I fished on. In hindsight I didn’t mind too much because a few minutes later I brought to hand a cracking grayling the spit of the stuffed specimen in Mr Aplin’s office, which I seem to remember was about 2½lbs. I toyed with running downstream to find Charles and to gloat, I thought better of it.
My appetite temporarily sated I went to see how Denise was getting on. Not well as it turned out. No sign of a fish despite her being in the prime run. She was doing everything right, text book stuff. Fickle fish grayling.
Manoeuvring into the deep pool
I found Charles manoeuvring into a deeper pool that looked most promising although a large sea trout rolling at the head of the run was slightly distracting. Just before Denise caught up with us the line drew away purposefully and Charles’ best fish of the day was on. It was almost the twin of the one I caught earlier and a real beauty, Charles was as pleased as punch.
Best fish of the day for Charles
After a sumptuous lunch back at the hut, including homemade soup warmed up on the meths stove, we fished the upper section of the beat but struggled to find the fish. Charles and I did manage a final fish each stretching the definition of ‘top of beat’ just in time for John to capture us on camera. Whilst we hadn’t caught many fish we were very happy with the ones we had tricked and it certainly wasn’t the wash out John had feared. As we left the river the evening sun lit up the willows, as if on fire.
Fiery willow
Back home it was another quick turnaround getting ready for the last of my three days, this time on the Wylye.
Steve Skuce had been promising,ever since I joined the Grayling Society Committee, to have me down to fish the Wilton Fly Fishing club’s water on the Wylye. We had finally managed to find a date we could both do so down the A303 I headed. Steve has a beautiful cottage tucked away in the picture postcard village of Wylye and stuffed full of all manner of things fishy. I could have spent all day looking through books and admiring cane rods but Roger Smith had joined us from the Herefordshire borderlands and he was keen to get fishing.
Before we were allowed near the river Steve insisted on starting the outing with a bullshot. For the uninitiated bullshot is a concoction of beef consommé fortified with alcohol designed to warm one’s cockles, whatever they are. It is a grand way to get yourself going on a cold day. And it was a cold day. Noticeably colder than the day before on the Frome, probably due to the biting wind.
Steve strung up a fly rod whilst Roger and I decided to trot. After a couple of days nymphing I thought that drowning a maggot would make a nice change. I assumed that the river would be up and coloured and that trotting was the order of the day. Beware assumptions. When we arrived at the bridge the Wylye was low and clear. Still nothing ventured nothing gained. Steve despatched us to our pools before heading downstream. Roger would try above the bridge and I below.
Roger Smith trotting above the bridge on the Wylye
As I waded gingerly out into the flow I berated myself for deciding to trot. Conditions looked perfect for nymphs and there was even a fish or two rising to a sparse hatch of upwings. After my third cast all thoughts of nymphing evaporated as the float dipped away and the first grayling of the day was on, and it was a good fish too. I hardly moved for the next hour or so as grayling after grayling succumbed to the wriggly temptation of the red and white maggot combo.
Another cracking Wylye grayling
I only paused to glance up and downstream to see how Roger and Steve were getting on. Steve looked to be having good sport with the nymph. Roger had disappeared from sight further upstream.
Steve Skuce nymphing
Eventually Steve reappeared to see how I was getting on. Hosting someone is a nerve wracking endeavour. I always worry that they won’t catch and will forever hold it against me. Steve looked relieved when he heard how well I was doing. He headed off to find Roger and I followed on once I’d extracted myself from the pool.
The rest of the day was spent chatting with the others, taking photos and scratching around trying to find a pool as good as the first. I had a few more fish but I couldn’t find another shoal.
Last look at the river
Roger had to skip off early leaving Steve and I to retreat to chez Skuce for a sumptuous dinner of Lancashire, pie and peas. A rare treat for a soft southerner.
Lancashire pie and peas
As I drove home from Steve’s I reflected on three very different days. A day on the Coln that looked perfect but which disappointed. A day on the Frome that was almost cancelled but produced a beautiful grayling, a season best, and a day on the Wylye where I thought I’d called it wrong by trotting but where the fish were generously accommodating. To paraphrase Forrest Gump, winter grayling fishing is “like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're gonna get." And actually I kinda like it that way.
For more information on John Aplin and fishing on the Frome go to:
http://www.chalkstreamflyfishing.co.uk/chalkstream-fly-fishing/
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.