River Tillingbourne, Surrey

The county of Surrey has a chalkstream! I discovered this when reading the book 'Chalkstream - Fishing the Perfect River' by Charles Rangeley-Wilson. You could almost miss the reference, but there it was, shown on a map of the chalkstreams in the Thames catchment. The River Tillingbourne. 

I would think the Tillingbourne makes the chalkstream grade by a whisker, because it springs to life from the northern slopes of Leith Hill which is in the Greensand Ridge. But then it has the good fortune of flowing westwards for the rest of its short life along the southern edge of the North Downs, that great ridge of chalk hills that stretch from Farnham in Surrey to the White Cliffs of Dover in Kent. Near to Guildford the Tillingbourne joins the River Wey. 

The river flows through pretty Surrey villages along the way, none more scenic than Shere, which is supposedly the most photographed village in the county. Several films have been set in Shere with 'The Holiday' in 2006 still drawing in film set enthusiasts. 

I immediately set about hatching plans to fish the Tillingbourne. My destination was the Albury Estate, just 16 miles from my home as the crow flies, on the other side of Leith Hill. I visited the area last year and knew to expect a small, intimate stream so I packed my 6' Hardy Flyweight rod. It would be perfect for the little trout of the stream. Little did I know...

I woke early to the sound of rain. I debated internally whether to go back to sleep and wait for the afternoon when the rain was meant to clear. When I was younger rain was a trifling thing, but now I have an almost feline disdain for fishing in the rain. I drank a cup of coffee whilst I rearranged my fly box and then forced myself out the door. I'm glad I did. 

I drove through heavy rain as I crossed the boundary between West Sussex and Surrey. I had to concentrate hard through the wiper blades whilst navigating the small country lanes. When I arrived, the worst of the rain had passed and there were several people fishing the series of lakes on the estate. I rigged up my rod in the car park and made for the 200m section of river downstream of the lakes. It was a shame about the weather, because the water was carrying a little colour. I crawled into position, my trousers getting drenched from the wet grass in the process, and soon caught a little brown trout on a small nymph. I could tick off another county from my trout list.   

I moved above the bottom lake where there was another 250m of stream to fish, and when my indicator checked within a few casts, I lifted my rod into something altogether more substantial. I saw a broad shouldered fish turn on its side under the water as I applied pressure, and then the fireworks ensued. A rainbow trout leapt from the water and crashed back with a splash. My little Flyweight rod bent over double. I hadn't been expecting this! The fish leapt again, but this time into the reeds on the bank where I could scoop it into my net. The unexpected capture took a little while to sink in and, when my pulse had slowed down, I wisely checked the knots in my leader. I then pieced the puzzle together; there wasn't a barrier between the lake and the upstream section of river, so rainbow trout stocked into the lake were free to roam upstream.

I spotted an unusual looking duck with its duckling in the stream. The mother fretted about my presence but the duckling didn't seem the least bit shy, as it busied itself in the margins looking for food. I later identified them as exotic Mandarin ducks. As I watched them, a beetle walked up the length of my rod and when it reached the tip I took a photo so that I could identify it later - a soldier beetle. Even in this manicured, artificial environment I was happy to discover two new species to me.

In the deepest water of the next pool my nymph checked again and I lifted my rod into the now familiar antics of a rainbow trout. In a stream 7 feet wide the fish could only go up and down the current and it did this several times before I could bring it to the net. It just about fit into the net, and measured around 18". When I checked my nymph, the hook had nearly bent straight! 

Two more rainbows made it to the net before I reached the top of the beat. The third fish was the chunkiest of the lot and I'd venture a guess that it weighed north of 2½ lbs, perhaps even as much as 3 lbs. It was exhilarating to catch these fish on a 2 weight rod. I'd forgotten how electrifying rainbow trout can be when hooked.

It had stopped raining by the time I reached the top of the beat. I had a lot of time to watch the anglers fishing the lakes. What struck me was how impatient they seemed, charging around the banks, not making use of the bank side cover, barely pausing to cast and stripping the fly in fast. One man's meat is another man's poison. The majority seemed to go home empty handed but one or two did very well.  

It was a fun morning. A novelty. That said, it wasn't strictly my cup of tea because it felt a little too artificial. I guess it's a similar feeling to watching a skilled magician - always fun to watch, but you just know it isn't real. Having said that, I'm glad to have fished the nearest chalkstream to my home, and my curiosity has been satiated. Finding a wild brown trout in the waters of the Tillingbourne was my real prize.