I was pleased to see a few small uprights fluttering about as I headed to the downstream end of the section I intended to fish. This gave me a hint as to what fly to start with, a small foam olive, which was steadfastly ignored by the rising fish. Opening the fly box, and staring at the river, for inspiration an IOBO fell out so on it went. First cast, a take and first fish to hand. Casting to another fish the fly was again ignored. Another change, to a DHE resulted in more ignoring. This was going to be a trying day. On went the fourth fly of the day, a John Storey and with it a second fish. This proved to be the winning fly for the next hour or so with a dozen fish coming to hand as I wandered upstream casting to rising fish. I also saw a couple of Large Green Duns, a beastie I haven’t seen in a long while, struggling to gain height before a gust wafted them into a bramble patch.
Rounding a bend, I spotted one of the river's larger residents stationed behind a tree root on the far bank. Creeping along the bank to get into a suitable position for a cast I missed my footing as a failed to see a sharp drop in among the now lush vegetation. Flailing around trying not to fall in, break the rod, sprain my ankle, obviously, spooked the fish.
Sitting down for a drink and something to eat a couple of Yellow May Duns fluttered past. One of which was taken by the aforementioned trout, which had magically reappeared, as it alighted on the water. Three more drifted down, two of which were quickly grabbed by the trout. A short while later a few broom petals drifted down with the trout rising to one of them. Rummaging through the fly boxes for something yellow, or even vaguely yellow, proved fruitless. Must tie some OE Yellow Hammers. I had a chuck with the John Storey. This was ignored as the fish preferred, instead, to rise to another broom petal. Impaling a couple of broom petals on the hook proved to be inspired as the fish rose and took the fly, and petals. With the strike the fish shot upstream, only to shed the hook moments later. I wasn't really upset, more surprised it worked at all.
I managed another fish as I headed on upstream, but the river seemed to die with no insects about and no fish rising in the now bright tea time sun.
After a cuppa and something more to eat the river came alive again as the evening cooled. I managed four more on a small Grey Duster, as the John Storey was now been refused, although the takes were becoming increasingly harder to hit. I did, however, find an old ford now no-longer connected to the road as it had been replaced by a modern bridge. I also found a bike frame, something normally associated with inner-city waterways.
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