*Also known as Trout, Tangles & Terror, or: How I Slipped, Swore, and eventually caught something that wasn’t foliage!

As we inch ever closer to the finish line of the Final Technical Report for the River Teign Restoration Project - pens scribbling, keyboards tapping, and a few rare ‘excellents’ (you know who you are!) thrown in for good measure - it feels like we’re in the final stretch of an epic 4x400m relay race with graphs instead of batons! While we’re not quite there yet, the light at the end of the tunnel is getting brighter, and we look forward to releasing it officially in the not-too-distant future.

A huge, heartfelt thank you to everyone involved - from the steadfast volunteers gathering data in the wild to the brave souls wrangling it into coherent sentences and data visualisations. It's been a brilliant team effort and a genuinely rewarding experience. So, this week, let’s take a well-earned breather and enjoy something a little more lighthearted and tongue-in-cheek. You’ve all earned it…

So, this piece came about because of John ‘Lofty’ Wiseman and his SAS Survival Handbook - a book so hardcore it once got me stopped at Cuban customs (seriously, buy me a pint and I’ll tell you how a diagram of a deadfall trap nearly caused an international incident). But as I stood there, passport in one hand and confiscated literature in the other, it struck me: where’s the survival guide for something truly rugged, like fly fishing on Dartmoor? Because let’s face it, dodging midges, navigating bogs, and convincing a wild brown trout to take your fly requires at least commando-level cunning!

With this in mind, I present to you all…

So you’ve decided to fly fish for wild brown trout on Dartmoor. Firstly, congratulations, secondly, are you 100% sure!? You’re in for a day of intense natural beauty, soul-crushing humility, and more unexpected wet arms than any day trip should reasonably include!

Let me walk (or more accurately, stumble & slide) you through what awaits the brave souls who dare to cast a line on our beautiful Dartmoor’s rivers.

Everything is Slippery - Everything!

Do you know how rocks are just rocks in some places? Well, not here! In Dartmoor, almost every single water-covered surface is covered in a fine, ancient film, presumably left by vengeful river nymphs. Rocks? They’re slippery. Riverbanks? They can be slippery too, and lead down to the slippery rocks! And that one flat bit you can see and think is safe? Nope — that’s a deceptive slab of slippery granite disguised as gravel!

The right bit of river with the wrong piece of footwear, and you’ll spend more time doing new world yoga poses than casting. If you're lucky, when you do lose your footing, you'll have a ‘moment’ whilst you pray for some friction. If not, you'll do a full-body slide into the water (obviously putting your hands out onto the water first to stop you going through it!) while a couple of sheep watch silently, judging your life decisions.

*Terry (not Terry!) usefully pointing in the general direction of things that are slippery - his infinite wisdom knows no bounds!*

The Trout Are Smarter Than You - Always!

Wild brown trout are like finned aquatic ninjas with major trust issues! They’ve lived for generations in fast, clear flowing rivers, dodging cormorants, gooseanders, herons, and anglers from previous generations with more skill than you can hope to amass. You could cast & present the perfect dry fly like it’s floating on angel breath, and they’ll still give you the ‘middle-fin’ as they turn away last minute before vanishing under a boulder.

So, if you do catch one, adopt a wide stance (see the first point above!) and take a moment to appreciate the miracle. Then release it quickly before it tells the others in the pool and they start mocking you from downstream.

*Never underestimate the intelligence of these wild fish - I’m certain that shortly after releasing this one, he and his mates worked out how to turn off most of Spain’s power…*

Casting can be challenging…

‘Challenging’ is a polite way of saying there’s a 100% chance your fly will end up in a tree, on your hat, or wrapped around a bramble before it even sees the water. Everything in nature is perfectly adapted to catch your fly, leader, fly line and anything else you deem important and sacred! Dartmoor rivers are not wide open pools of serenity, they are tight, twisty streams hemmed in by gorse, grass, deceptive overhangs, and at least one hidden pony, cow, duck or sheep waiting to spook at the exact wrong moment.

By mid-morning, your leader and fly will look like a crafting project gone horribly wrong (see post about fly tying!), and just when you think you’ve got it all figured out and ready to cast again - Someone walks past, stops, bathes in the majestic beauty of an idillic english country scene and watches you lift the fly line off the water and straight into a tree you didn’t even know existed! This is the moment that you should graciously hang your head in shame and remain silent.

*Looking downstream to recall the things we’ve snarled up in…*

Your Waders Will Betray You

I think it’s fair to say that waders give you a false sense of security and waterproof confidence. On Dartmoor, think of them more as a ‘ceremonial garment’ - a bit like a kilt, but wetter and only slightly better at keeping the undercarriage dry! The riverbeds, as we’ve learned, are full of those slippery boulders arranged in precisely the right way to make you fall over in slow motion while shouting, “I’m okay!” to absolutely no one. As you fall, it’s customary to interpret the bishop’s waltz in an upstream direction whilst your fly rod floats off downstream!

Pro tip: When you feel yourself going, commit and commit fully! A controlled plunge with purpose and style is how we do it in Devon!

Gorse Is Not Your Friend

Gorse is Dartmoor’s organic version of crowd control. As we’ve already learned, everything in nature will snag your fly, your sleeve, your hopes. One minute you’re sneaking up to a promising-looking pool; the next, you’re completely entwined in a bush that smells vaguely like coconut (or Malibu rum for those of you that fully explored the 90’s!), but bites like a yappy chihuahua with a complex.

*A rare sight of a cast going forwards into open waters…*

The Wind has a Personal Vendetta

The prevailing wind on Dartmoor doesn’t just ‘blow’ - it targets. It waits until you’ve just got your line through the eye of your tiniest dry fly with frozen fingers, I might add, and then immediately gusts it into your eyebrow! With these gusts, your backcast will develop a mind of its own and have its own mini adventure, and before long, you’ll be unhooking yourself from your jacket while muttering about how peaceful fly fishing is supposed to be!

But it is also kind of Glorious!

In between the tumbles, tangles, and small-scale emotional breakdowns, you’ll be pleased to hear that there are moments of pure magic. A rising fish beneath a tree. A glimpse of a kingfisher racing past. The hush of the moor at dawn or dusk. That moment you finally land your first jewel-like wild brown trout and forget that you’re soaking wet, cut to shreds and possibly concussed from an earlier rock-to-face incident!

In that one moment, you look around - at the moss-covered banks, the tors looming in the mist, that perfect trout in your hand - and suddenly it all feels worth it - Even the slippery bits!

*A just reward for completing boot camp and sticking with it when others tap out…*

Final Tips for Dartmoor Fly Fishing Domination!

Pack a hip flask and an open mind.
Never trust a rock that looks ‘nice and flat.’
Speak kindly to the grazing animals. They remember things!
Accept that you will fall in. Embrace it and make it part of your ‘style’.
And - If you catch more than one trout first time out, write a book because you’re clearly a wizard!

The Dartmoor Fly Fishing Survival Guide!*