26^th July 2007

7:00pm, parked up at The Bridge Inn at Kentchurch last night in sauna temperatures and after checking in with the landlord, only narrowly avoided instructing him to pull me a pint of cold cider, god it looked good.

This was my first visit to The Bridge Beat so I carried a little more anticipation than usual as I slipped into the pool just upstream of Kentchurch Bridge. Plenty of rising fish - all grayling and all very timid, at least of my hefty presentation. Not a sniff. Around the next bend and there was a beautiful riffle and pool sequence with a deeply cut run under some alders and willow - plenty of room to get a fly in there too. Sadly there was also plenty of room to get a kayak in there also - two little b*stards farting about from the campsite in the pub garden. I wish I was the sort who could just say “hey don’t worry, you weren’t to know” I give them my best Headmasters scowl and turn away upstream - I can see the raised fingers and “tosser” signs in my minds eye.

The river up here is very different in character from my usual beat, wide and slow with more mid-stream weed growth as it coils its serpentine way between the trees and rushes. Speaking of serpents…… the first in an extraordinary sequence of wildlife visitors makes its appearance. I am cast upstream when I notice a wake coming towards me at a fairly rapid rate of knots in an intricate dipping and weaving motion. What’s that? I think to myself, its only as it gets really close that I realise what it is and decide to “Jesus Christ!!” get out of there. I couldn’t tell you what species it was as I didn’t feel the need to inspect it at close quarters, for the naturalists amongst you though….. it was very thin at one end, very thin in the middle, and slightly thicker at the other end (the bit with teeth) - and it moved like, well only a snake can move.

A short while later after a few Marlboros I had recovered my composure and remembered the true purpose of the evening. I hit upon another lovely riffle and pool sequence; this time, some action. The first, a lovely wild brownie which crashed into my Elk Hair Caddis with all the finesse of a croc taking a wildebeest - still it woke me up. Then from the same run two grayling hooked…….then lost, both within grabbing distance - nearly.

Around the next bend another flat broad section with the odd crease of current as the river flowed around a submerged log, there were also half a dozen or so fish rising regularly. Casting as long and fine as I could manage, I managed to bump two more grayling before taking two to hand, both nice 12″ fish and both took the Caddis - which I’ve never had with grayling before.

I guess it’s about 9:30 by now and I decide to get out of the river and head upstream to see what else the beat has to offer. After passing the old weir, I am confronted by more flat water but somehow this stretch feels different. As I walk upstream for about 300yds, there are no riffles or even the slightest hint of current. The river is wide and the banks lined with ranks of bulrushes and low willow, these combine with the banks of fine silt which line the river to give an almost estuarine feel to the place. However, there are rising fish, plenty of them and some of them damn big. There are sedges about as well as other widge-wadges which I’ve no idea what they were – though they looked like biters. 

How to get to the river though? Hacking my way through the undergrowth I eventually see daylight only to trip headlong over a hidden stump and, much to my surprise, as I put my hands out to stop myself, end up elbow deep in foul smelling slutch - I fancy I am not quite as surprised though as the badger which is staring at me full in the face about 10ft away!! God they look big close up, do they bite? The question is academic as Brock turns away and charges off into the undergrowth. After extricating myself from the sh*te I stumble out onto the river bank only, horror of horrors, to find out that its like the bloody Grimpen Mire. Left leg straight into the muck up to and over my knee - the kind of muck that wants to claim you for its own……..

Are any fish worth this kind of grief? Does their pursuit really warrant this kind of self-inflicted and intense humiliation?

The answer on both counts has to be: “Of course!”

Riverside I am greeted by a pair of swans, thankfully gliding away upstream, and more importantly the hordes of rising fish, still snacking on those sedges. But how to get to them? Wading is out of the question in this sh*te, why even a shift of weight from one foot to the other results in the river bed farting up bubbles of noxious gases. Behind me is the jungle.  Eventually I work out that the only way to get to any fish is to cast diagonally downstream with a kind of Lion Tamers flourish. As I practice my casting I feel more settled again, a kingfisher swerves by me, electric brilliance in the setting sun, and a solitary owl ghosts over my head. This stretch looks incredible, the river is horrible, stale looking and scattered with algal mats but the fish are there and some of them must be two pound plus judging by the rises. My first cast in earnest is rewarded by a gentle sipping rise. A little one then…….? Tightening into the fish I am met with incredible resistance that makes me feel that I just have to let this one run, and run it does, stripping 15 yds of line off me before I turn it and encourage it home. After a couple of big boils on the surface I manage to coax it across the mud and into my hand. It is a beautiful fish, fat and golden as butter but with the muscular firmness of a well hung beef fillet. I am amazed that it is “only” 15″ after the fight and feel of the fish but hey, it’ll do for me!

After releasing the trout I survey the river and am disappointed to note that the other rising fish are clearly out of reach. Not out of reach for all however as I am distracted by a crunching sound. About ten yards upstream on the opposite bank is an otter enjoying his supper!! Oh god I hope it wasn’t one of the two pounders!! What an evening - all we need now is that fit bird from BBC Wildlife on One to turn up - you know the one with long tanned legs and khaki shorts……… Time for home.