There is something about a river bridge, they act as viewing platforms, enticing you to stop and inspect what lies beneath. Excitement made for a restless night and after a hideously long drive the next morning, on an overcast day in mid-December I was peering over a bridge and into the water below. I liken fishing a new stretch of water to being a child at Christmas. So after waiting several months and enduring a period of very hard frosts, it was time to visit this crystal clear river. Now you must excuse my vagueness here, or ‘secretive squirrel Colmer’ as my close fishing friend defines me, but us grayling obsessives keep our existing and newfound rivers a closely guarded secret.īut hasten to add, my newly sourced river is a chalkstream, somewhere in England, lightly fished and by all accounts, ‘full of big fish’. After some exhaustive research, emails, phone calls lasting several months and some downright brown nosing, I managed to source a new stretch of river to fish for grayling. Grayling are seen as the new cash cow, as the demand for sight fishing winter chalkstreams far exceeds the availability. With the interest in grayling fishing growing year on year, it is becoming extremely difficult to find new places to visit, or indeed, fish a chalkstream that does not charge a hideous sum of money just to ‘experience it’. Once the trout season ends, actually, even before that, my mind usually drifts to winter outings chasing my favourite fish, but importantly, finding new locations to explore. On a recent trip to Scotland with friends, I was more absorbed in catching a magical 3lb grayling than the monstrous trout.
Partly because of the honour and huge readership ESF has, but largely due to the risk of revealing the location of the river for which these musings relate!įor those that know me, I have a slight obsession with grayling. Now, I write this article with some trepidation. Grayling obsessive Howard Colmer visits a new stream
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