What a crazy past few days for me, with my fishing time limited by the fallout from destructive Environment Agency work and anglers’ demand for answers. More on this shortly- and you can also read about it in the Guardian, Independent, Telegraph, Mail,  and BBC! You can also hear a radio interview HERE (my part starts at 2:36:40). However, I had hoped to start this blog on a different note.

Indeed, emerging from all the fear and strangeness of the last two years, it feels like the perfect time to re-establish friendships and connections right now. In angling, as in life, this is vital for our wellbeing. Change and the death of things as they were can be brutal, as I was to be reminded in spectacular fashion this week.

I’d been keenly looking forward to meeting up with David West Beale. Not only a keen fellow fly and lure angler, he’s also a writer and innovator. It had been over a year since we last fished together and with the weather mild, hopes were high for some decent fishing. And yes, we got just that, eventually, albeit with some totally unwanted drama along the way!

We’d opted for a compare and contrast approach for perch and pike, starting on the River Tone. When joined by a mate, taking a different set-up each and fishing shoulder to shoulder is a great way to proceed. You can always swap rods that way, too. David had set up a finesse type lure outfit with a soft plastic; I was more intent on starting for pike with some big spinnerbaits.

From the get-go, it was interesting stuff. David hooked a perch quite early, which was immediately seized by a pike! In fact, it was his smaller, subtler lure approach that was getting most of the action. This is a pattern that seems common right now. With so many lure anglers out and a lot more pressure on pike, smaller or radically different lures make sense.

The next hook up was also a pike, which came adrift. Which made me want to scale down a bit- or perhaps look for some different water. It was at this point I said the fateful words: “I know a really gorgeous spot for chub”.

Flood defence or mindless destruction?

If the area I was thinking of could be described as wild and craggy, you can probably imagine our utter shock at what we then saw a few yards down the bank:

Not so much trimmed as completely razed, the bank had gone from a sort of wild hippie look to a grade one haircut! I can only use the word brutal, because the Russian Army would have been proud of the job. The workmen hadn’t left anything. Not even so much as a tree.

Now, I want to offer some explanation and detail in a second, but as an angler you have what can only be described as a physical and emotional tie with a river. I felt like I had been punched in the guts, frankly. Having fished here for 20 years, I actually felt physically sick. The sawn-off stumps you can see above were once trees where I caught chub and admired a kingfisher, poised to strike. To add a bit of context, below is what the exact same stretch had looked like not long ago (looking down from the Bridge, not far from Bridgwater Road in autumn 2021). You can even see this lovely leafy stretch for yourself in a video I made catching chub on blackberries (good luck finding a single berry this summer- everything is now gone).

The next shock was to come soon after. When we took a closer look to ask what this was in aid of, the men had Environment Agency jackets. Four of them could offer no sensible reply, beyond looking annoyed with us and muttering something about flood defences.

“I’m just doing my job” said one (my least favourite excuse ever- and a favourite of parking attendants and staff at Guantanamo Bay). “I’ve lived here for 20 years,” said another. As if this makes things better! Boris Johnson was probably a journalist for 20 years; it doesn’t make him any less of a pathological liar.

What were their instructions? I know felled timber can be a blockage, but could they not at least leave the older and healthy trees? Surely this is no way to sure things up against flooding as the bank would become less stable if anything? No answers. Tellingly, the men just glanced at each other sheepishly. You may as well have attempted to talk to the bloke in McDonald’s about nuclear physics.

What on earth do you do, when faced with this situation? They just ploughed on, while I was put in the absurd position of phoning the EA emergency incident hotline… to report their own staff! I was courteously answered and promised a callback. Obviously, this is the last thing you want to do on a rare day out with a friend you haven’t seen in years, but what do you do?

Chopping and Chopin!

At this stage we went back the other way, where there was at least some bank left with any life on it. We saw some fish too, although I was struggling to concentrate. Then, in typical fashion, just as I’d spotted a decent pike of perhaps 8lbs, the phone went. I got a courteous but drawn-out process.

If it had been a dream it would be funny. Chamber music was pumped into my ears while they wondered how to handle the call, and got me to ponder whether I wanted to enquire/complain as a member of the public or a journalist, and whether I wanted lemon or lime with today’s punch in the stomach. A bit of Chopin then hit repeat (say what you like about the EA being underfunded or unfit for purpose, but they have wonderful taste in classical music). The pike then came back into view as I mouthed a silent profanity and urged David to take my heavier rod and try another lure.

After another five minutes the pike had scarpered and I was assured I’d get a call back later. How much later was a bit of concern as we could hear chainsaws. It’s moments like this that make me sometimes wonder whether I should give up fishing and become a sketch writer. More explanation in a bit, but perhaps the easiest way to proceed is just to describe the day as it happened.

Moving on…

After another hour or so of fishing but not really being able to focus, we were getting itchy feet. We’d seen two more pike, neither of which wanted to commit. We’d also seen two more lure anglers (including Marcin, a really nice Polish angler who’s also a local volunteer and bailiff, who was also shocked and offered to make his own complaint about the bankside butchery).

While I was gutted my mate David had to witness this of all days, I’m glad he was there. Had I been alone, I think I’d have packed up, despondent. But regardless of circumstances, I wanted to enjoy a catchup and a fish or two, and so we hopped between spots, having a glance at the river elsewhere and the canal.

Just when we needed a bit of light relief the most, the perch obliged. We’d both opted for lighter gear – and were getting hits from perch by this stage. We were quickly swapping ideas and theories, too, which is always a benefit of fishing with a friend.

A bit like brown trout, I find it impossible to catch even the most modest perch and not be happy. They are all so pretty and full of character. Even better, a pattern started forming. David’s idea, that they favoured the bits of water out of the stiff, growing breeze, seemed correct. Quite often you’d expect them right at the edge, too, but with low water levels, it was the drop-offs and deeps that seemed to produce best.

The smile was returning to my face by this point and we could, at least for an hour or two, we could avoid talking about destruction, irreversible change and such things. I’d already shared some images of the Tone on social media, to urge others to demand some explanation and perhaps make a vain attempt to slow down or regulate the carnage. Even so, it was nice when my phone didn’t go ping for an hour and we could make some bad jokes and chew the fat.

Any answers?

Isn’t it typical? Just at that moment in the day when you’d put your money on the best fishing arriving, you get an important phone call. Finally, I was offered some explanation from a chap at the EA. Some credit due here for calling me back and not treating me like an idiot. The chap was polite and informative, and explained some things much better. I still don’t entirely know where to start, but as a list person, I’m going to lay out some factors in a way that’s at least easier to digest than a garbled stream of consciousness:

• The section of the Tone at Bathpool is prone to serious flooding. Which is presumably why it’s full of wonderful newbuild housing (not the EA’s fault). I will try and keep sarcasm to a minimum from this point on!
• Trees and debris can get into the water and make a mess. In the vicinity of a weir, this can make the water back up and the banks get destabilised. Some removal can be necessary, like it or not. I am still not sure why this should mean that every bush and tree needs to be torn out. Surely you could remove the troublesome bits and leave some of the rest?
• It will look ugly for a while, even the EA will admit. However, they will cooperate with local conservation groups to replant the banks in a more suitable way (trees further back, wild grass rather than the brambles which had been there). While I wish work hadn’t gone on in the first place, some attempt to restore is better than none- so let’s welcome this even if a little grudgingly and judge by results here.
• Almost all our flooding problems are influenced by our own decisions. The Tone was heavily altered post WW2, and seen less as an ecosystem and more as a way of getting water out of the town as quickly as possible.
• To make matters worse, the council approved a massive great retail park (the one with the Odeon Cinema, Sainsburys, McDonalds etc, right by the M5) in the 90s. Before, this had all been natural marshland. A giant sponge for floodwater had now been replaced by concrete. Along with the endless new housing estates, this highly exacerbated flooding, as the water had nowhere to go. But you could now buy a Big Mac without even getting out of your car. Hurrah! (Sorry, I said I’d keep sarcasm to a minimum).
• As a sweetener with the new development (presumably people were upset), the council agreed to help develop a nature site nextdoor. Hankridge Pond was born. It looked nice for a while and also took a fair quantity of floodwater- until budgets ran out, nobody maintained it and it became the three inches of water and four feet of silt you see today. A classic example of modern local politics (short term planning and budgeting on the hoof? Solutions more aimed at PR than long term sustainability?)
• This exact same pond could be a huge asset to flood relief, not to mention a win for nature. So why take the destructive option instead of rejuvenating a natural, flood-alleviating habitat? Is it merely cheaper? Or are the authorities too fragmented (the pond is the council’s watch, not the EA). On that note, why not contact Taunton and West Somerset Council about this?
• You can also contact the EA direct at enquiries@environment-agency.gov.uk or indeed call them on 03708506506 and then option 5 to make a comment or complaint.

As a late bit of news to all of the above, I’ve already received reports that cormorants are now working the Tone in this very location! Our friend Marcin spotted three harrying the chub and silver fish. These birds were once very rare in this location (I cannot remember the last time I saw even one on this particular reach) but are now making the most of the complete lack of any natural cover for the fish. In other words, it has taken less than three days for the bankside destruction to have a negative impact on the fish population!

No easy answers…

Where do we go from here? There are not always easy answers to any of this. I get that. Sometimes nature loses because otherwise a business goes bust or homes are lost. Things are expensive, fragmented and complicated. Much as I love chub and kingfishers, these things tend to be trumped by the danger of people’s homes getting flooded. Or ever-decreasing budgets. Or housing developments and man’s incessant demands for Big Macs, Costa Coffee, car spares and furniture outlets where once there was natural land. Sorry, that was sarcasm again- but you get my point.

Now, I should point out right now I DO NOT HAVE ALL THE ANSWERS. I am an interested party, not a PHD scientist (although I know quite a few of those!). I am a bloke who has written about waterways and fisheries not far off 20 years. Incidentally, I have also supported the EA’s work in many cases. I fully approve of much of what they do to help river habitats and angling clubs, so I am not a default EA basher. I have always attempted to deal constructively, with the world that exists rather than the one I’d like. This can mean dusting ourselves down and moving on. It can mean also shaking hands and moving on with people you might have disagreed with or coming up with an impermanent solution. This is a tricky thing for many people, myself included, and also the Angling Trust as it happens. It’s not a chummy friendship, it’s a work together but criticize hard where you need to type of thing. A lot of people in the culture wars era we live in can’t understand this, but life is nuanced. Today’s enemy can be tomorrow’s friend, if we are willing to adapt and progress!

I have a huge amount of respect for many of the Agency’s individual staff, I should point out. I’ve met dozens of them, across fisheries all over England. The chap who called me was polite and very professional. You could sense that biting of lip at the necessity of flood management at the cost of habitat. Life isn’t always a win-win.

However, looking at the bigger picture stuff, something is badly awry with the way we treat our rivers today, from sewage to flood management. Some of it is inevitable; some of it is downright contradictory. How can the EA be so proudly telling us about tree planting and habitat restoration, for example, and then in the next breath initiate crass solutions that involve ripping out every tree in existence a few miles away?

Nor is the EA the only party culpable in this, you’d have to say. This is also part of the issue. Peter and Penny don’t always sit at the same table. Councils with inadequate knowledge allow absurd things to proceed while ignoring the long term risks. They all have diversity training these days; wouldn’t it be great if they had biodiversity training, too? Because it is their statutory duty to protect and enhance the environment (no sniggering at the back, it’s true, read the black and white).

Why then, is so much of the land we live in continually filled with new housing and “developments” (itself a PR man’s word that often means destruction) that will exacerbate problems in areas that are already at risk? More to the point in all of this, when are we going to put nature first, ahead of short term solutions, profits and developers’ wallets? How on earth, for example is an area called Bathpool so heavily developed? You’d be hard pressed to find a name that more readily said “floods easily, don’t build here” than “Bath-pool”!

It is also down to all of us. Yes, me, you, all of us. Especially people who never complain or do anything. To quote the great Feargal Sharkey, who I interviewed recently for the Angling Times: “if you can’t be bothered to do anything, you shouldn’t be allowed an opinion.”

Harsh, but just think about this. So many of the public say they love nature- but they also love a McDonalds drive-thru right by the river. They won’t even email their local MP even thought they’ll get incandescent on Facebook, or indeed join the Angling Trust!! Sorry to bang this drum yet again, but if you think the existing powers are going to save your local river from pollution or negligent developers, dream on. There’s more chance of me beating Tyson Fury in an arm wrestle.

Who keeps the authorities in check?

Talking to David, and so many friends and people much better qualified than me to speak about nature, there is a common theme developing in this country. Once upon a time, the authorities were trusted and kept the people in check. In 2022 it is the complete opposite: it is only ordinary people who keep the authorities in check, because everywhere you look, from politicians to councils, they are more interested in PR and saving money than any notion of listening to you greasy lot. They must love Facebook, because it’s an instant pressure valve that’s so much more instant than actually tracking down any decision-makers (or being stuck on hold with only a dead composer for company).

Without wanting to be too emotive on this, it feels like we are on a hiding to nothing here- and yes, I do sometimes lose sleep about it, or get trolled and attacked by the same people I’ve tried to help my entire career.

Time and again, every decision seems to go with the money, without fail. Every. Single. Time. I’ve seen the meadows where I played as a kid become 200 newbuild houses on the edge of Exeter (planning permission was still granted after complaints to Exeter City Council, evidence of endangered wildlife and even a surveyor sacked for gross negligence). I’ve seen sites spring up everywhere, and fishing clubs not even consulted when new roads, developments, farms and storm drains make a total mess of their river.

We’re seeing similar vandalism on the Taunton to Bridgwater Canal, unfortunately. Somerset Boat Centre gush out PR about mindfulness and reconnecting with nature whilst not making a peep about the Canal and Rivers Trust ripping out miles of native water plants. Work starts in February this year, meaning that in the very season when everything from pike to moorhens and rudd spawn, the cover they need and trillions of fish eggs will be systematically removed, so that townies can come and do paddleboard yoga (no sarcasm for once, it’s perfectly true!), believing themselves to be “in touch with nature”. Wonderful. Why not just do a downward dog in Halfords car park?

We are approaching a phase where real life is now beating satire to the punchline, of course. Can you imagine any of this happening in ancient woodlands or a beach? Sorry, I forgot, fish don’t count as wildlife, do they?  It’s laughably sad, but this sort of insanity is now commonplace.

Again, I don’t have all the answers here, but what I do know is that a better future starts with action. It’s not enough to moan and tut, or say that you care. Caring doesn’t even knock on someone’s window. We need to pressure those in power and demand better, and where necessary take legal action. Because the alternative, apathy, is scary.

Sometimes my fear is that people read articles or blogs like this and think “thank goodness someone’s fighting back” and then just go straight to the drive-thru McDonald’s. Again, this is up to all of us. The authorities love your apathy! They love it when you attack other citizens on social media or even those trying to help you, rather than making any assault on their woeful lack of care or basic democratic transparency.

Big perch karma?

If you’re still with us (thank you for being in the digital minority who can be bothered to read something longer than a tweet), the end of our fishing session had a much sweeter conclusion. I’d just put the phone down and there was only about 30 mins of light left. Would there be time for one more bite?

We’d seen some tiny fish in the margins, but with water levels so low, I fancied that the perch would only attack shallow water as the light went. So it proved. These perch can still be picky though- so we stuck with lighter gear. I was using a light rod with fine braid with a 2.5″ Komodo Shad rigged on a 2g jig head.

I’d cast a bit too far just onto some reeds, if I’m honest, but won the coin toss as the lure plopped free into the water. Something then must have nailed the lure on the drop- although at the time I tightened up and assumed I’d hit a snag. Suddenly, the snag moved off at speed. I’d assumed it was a jack pike, but was mistaken- it was a sizeable perch! I had to play it with great care, as it continued to fight like a pike. David and I had a laugh about this. Typical of Millenial fishing, you do sometimes hook a fish that “identifies” as a different species. A bream that thinks its a carp, or a pike that thinks it’s a chub. I once remember a group of river carp, in fact, that always had just one bream virtually glued to them, as if to say “what are you looking at? These days I’m a carp”.

What a fish this perch was too! It’s so much easier when you have a companion with you- and I was able to rest her in the net, while Dave grabbed the scales and got the camera ready. At 2lbs 12oz, it was a real beauty. Built like a prop forward, but far more handsome! I was gobsmacked.

Is there such a thing as fishing karma? Who knows. It’s probably as much to do with the law of averages. It’s easy to look at big perch on Insta and assume you just rocked up and smashed one out on a sponsor’s lure. In my case, I’ve had at least four dedicated perch fishing sessions on river and canal this season, and not even seen one this big. And this, coupled with all the stress of the day’s other drama, made that feeling of fleeting victory even more precious. I’m no longer the crap angler I was starting to believe I was a week ago, anyway!

I’d have absolutely loved it if David had got a similar beastie, but he narrowly missed out after a follow from another good one. Unlucky in his case, because it was he who caught the most fish by some distance. Even so, it was great to catch up and the post-fishing pint was my most enjoyable for ages. A simultaneously good and terrible day, you might say. Rather fitting, in these best and worst of times.

Till next time, tight lines and please stand up for fishing! I’ll be taking up more of these issues shortly in the Angling Times, too, where I’ve recently been reporting on the plight of the River Wensum, sustainability in angling and various other key issues (not to mention the misadventures of my usual “Last Cast” column).

If you have any thoughts on the above or any hot topic on your mind, by the way, you are more than welcome to contact me (dominic.garnett@bauermedia.co.uk).