I am by my own admission a bit of a fly fishing book
collector. Anything from before I was
born seems to be what attracts me. Evidence perhaps of a bit of a romantic
notion about the gentle art. Certainly,
I am a self-confessed fan of dry fly fishing, I will often persevere with the
dry when a nymph would do the job more effectively. Don’t get me wrong I do
fish the nymph I even indulged in some time with a guide a few years back to
improve my skills, the time with him was excellent. He even suggested that my Casting could
benefit from some professional input. I think he wanted to say Crap but
respectfulness of who was the paying client stopped him short. Anyway it did inspire me to have a few hours
with a casting instructor and it worked wonders.
Anyway, I digress.
One book amongst my collection of several hundred is a copy of the
Compleat Angler it isn’t a valuable copy, but it does have a special interest
for me, namely a previous owner has embellished the copy with various addenda. Such
as various lithographs and a clipping from
the Times in 1920 about the refurbishment of Walton’s cottage. There are also many other additions, notes
and references in the text that as, yet I have been unable to decode. However, I have often considered. That I should
myself add to the story.
This year my birthday has fallen on the day before good
Friday and had suggested just after Christmas that instead of my dear long
suffering wife having to “surprise “me with a non-fishing present that I don’t
really need. That we might disappear of
to the Yorkshire dales for a few days at Easter, she could do a bit of shopping
and I could visit the swale or the Ure. So,
a suitable hotel booking was made. Anyway,
a couple of weeks after that we received an invite to my Godsons children’s
christening which meant a change of plans was in order. The Christening was to
be on Easter Sunday near Derby. So, she
was tasked with looking through Booking. Com the Izaac Walton was mentioned,
that looks nice what do you think says she?
A quick scan revealed it had fishing rights on the Dove in Dovedale,
looks lovely Darling get it booked…
As Easter approached the weather was brass monkey weather,
which is a little unusual because living in a tourist town has taught me that
the weeks before bank holidays the weather is typically warm and sunny,
changing dramatically when the bank holiday arrives. To the usual English Bank Holiday weather of
a bracing north easterly and heavy showers.
However, that lovely Scottish weather lady kept talking of a mini
heatwave approaching, something that I had definite misgivings about. I had been warned by several angling acquaintances
about the popularity of Dovedale on Bank Holidays and the impact on my fishing opportunities. The last thing I wanted was thousands of
tourists.
On Good Friday I had negotiated the continuous traffic jams
on the way in to Dovedale and was a little taken aback by the sheer volume of
parked cars at the bottom of Dovedale when we threaded our way through the
traffic we arrived at the hotel. I was dispatched out of the way by my wife
whilst she unpacked. I was to say the
least more than a little dismayed by what greeted me as I walked up Dovedale I
appeared to have visited during some sort of huge protest march. Both banks
lined by a continuous procession of families indulging in walking, talking, dog
walking and swimming accompanied by lots of noise. The temperature was 22 degrees.
I was to say the least going to struggle up there. Now I am not one to give up easily and would
not give up the opportunity to fish without a struggle so I decided to
investigate the bottom end of the river I had noticed that the hotel fishing
extended downstream to the confluence with the River Manifold. So, the Plan was Easter Saturday morning a
visit to Bakewell to do some shopping. Then
I would head of down the river and try and avoid the crowds for a few
hours. I may even catch a few fish.
In Bakewell I thought I would risk a visit to the Bakewell
fly fishing shop. Now to those younger
fly anglers who have grown up on a diet of large American owned tackle outlets
and to the internet based giants that shop is a delight , small and gloriously
unorthodox manned by a gentleman who despite his slight innocent appearance is
legendary for spotting that oh so obvious gap in your fly fishing tackle
armoury and promptly filling it . A few years ago he spotted that in my case it
was the obvious lack of a Tenkara rod . After a short indoctrination session on
the busy pavement I left clutching my new rod.
That’s nice said my wife later it’s a pretty colour where does the reel go?
You know, I still haven’t fathomed that out.
This year I escaped with just buying another spare line clipper. Mid purchase some new customers walked in “I’ll
just be a few moments this Gentleman is from Yorkshire and completing the sale
is a tricky manoeuvre” was his welcoming comment. I left reflecting that those unwary new
customers were much like customers in Arkwright’s corner shop. About to be educated. Joking apart his shop is a jewel no visit to
Derbyshire would be complete without a visit.
After returning to the hotel I decided I would risk the
river so clad in the full chest waders and chest pack I strode proudly
alongside the standing traffic ignoring the stares and the pointing children
hanging out of the queuing cars, climbing over the gate into the bottom field
heading down to where the Dove discharges into the Manifold. Standing and looking at the junction I felt
sure that Walton himself must have stood looking at the same view.
At this end of the fishing the river fishing is pretty
reminiscent of one of my Yorkshire Streams.
Interesting pools and runs with plenty of deeper holding areas. it looks
like fine Grayling water but respect for the Grayling close season stopped me
running a heavy bug through some of the more fishy looking areas. I fished a
dry black paradun, one of my favourite prospecting flies. The first fish came with my fourth or fifth cast.
A pristine small stream brownie with a tail like a shovel compared to the size
of the fish.
For those readers who are still hoping for a serious fishing
story the tackle set up was an 8ft 8” Scott 4wt, with an aging loop reel and WF
4 floating line. 12ft tapered leader
leader with a couple of feet of 3lb tippet added. The fly was a size 16. There was no apparent rise but there was the
occasional olive and I was sure I had spotted an early hawthorn as I walked
down to the river. I was sure that given the clear water a few fish would be
looking up.
I fished steadily up
stream crossing the road by wading under the bridge the narrow stream at that
point coming within a whisker of the tops of my waders. I was determined that I
was going to remain oblivious to the line of bank holiday traffic standing on
the bridge above my head and from the
bank, as I moved up stream and despite
the buzz of bank holiday standing traffic being just a few feet away I was going to concentrate on the river in
front of me. I continued to pick up fish
and frightened a few more. I fished for about
three hours until the Dovedale car park just got to close. The sound of car doors and noisy children
became too apparent to ignore. I finished with six fish great fun on light tackle in the fast water.
all fish came to a little black paradun in the fast water between 18
inches and two feet deep. Interestingly
the best fish came at a point where cars were only a couple of metres away.
So, I had followed in
Walton’s footsteps and the river had demonstrated that given less bright
sunshine and fewer tourists the fishing would be even better, I fancy an Autumn
rematch to find some Dove Grayling.
As for the Compleat Angler I will be appending my fishing
ticket and perhaps a modern photograph of one of the numerous local landmarks
that are still visible and comparable to the book’s lithographs. A few margin notes to baffle future
owners. Next year a I am planning another trip to the Derbyshire Dove I fancy a look at that temple. Its hard work this book research.