Frank instigated ‘the great clean up’, where the riparian owners and the River Board were encouraged to restore the old water meadow carriers and hatches providing natural filtration for the rivers and nurseries for fry and small fish. The Avon was then prime fly water and this was mainly due to the efforts of Frank Sawyer, famous for his “Pheasant tail nymph” (often referred to as the Sawyers Pheasant Tail). I was thus very fortunate to fish the Avon from my early teens (although I was not aware of it at the time).
Over a pint or two he sometimes managed to arrange the odd outing for us on the main river and side streams in the Water Meadows. My father enjoyed pike fishing and was friendly with two well known bailiffs, Colonel Crow of Somerley and Tom Williams of Longford, occasionally meeting them in The Bull at Downton, a famous fishing watering hole run by Pete Scott-Newmans. Sadly this rod met its demise on the Torridge many years later, broken by a sea trout. My uncle Tom worked here and at Christmas 1954 I was delighted when it appeared along with a new reel and floating line! I couldn’t wait to use it and as there was little fly life in mid winter, I confess to a trip to the Midden with a jar of brambling worms to fish the Blackbird’s Fancy. When I was about eleven years old I spotted a lovely built cane rod in the display at Dickie Blanton’s gun shop in Ringwood Market Square. I would often catch dace and roach together with the occasional trout and grayling. I gradually learnt to fish wet and dry fly and my exploits were tolerated by those much more proficient than I – Bunny Collins the bailiff on the Mill Stream at Ringwood, Bimbo Small at the Bickerly and Uncle Enos of the Severals, amongst others. Using a “dapping technique”, I managed to catch some of the small, beautiful golden coloured brownies that abounded in all the forest streams. The old keeper Mr White at Linford (a friend of my grandfather), had often watched me worming and one day gave me an old Greenheart fly rod and a brass reel with an old greased line.
Apologies go to those I have inadvertently missed out – the memory’s not quite what is was!Ī lifetime before I started selling fishing supplies at Castle Gunmakers, my first attempts at fly fishing were in the streams of the New Forest when I was about eight years of age. Following on from the last two short stories describing my first forays into what would become a life long passion for game fishing, I thought I’d try and recollect some of the places and people that helped me along the way and to share some fond experiences.
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