With all the rain this week and tales of gloom and depsondency from our North Walian correspondents on the Severn and Dee, I felt downright bloody sceptical on the receipt of a friends “Get out and fish man! It’ll be wonderful” email.

Driving down through the Herefordshre borders, ditches filled with swirling torrents of terracotta sluice and the occasional flood warning by road side culverts, all seemed to frank my own assessment of my friends short term weather forecasting abilites. However, the first sign that all may not be lost was provided by the River Wye at Ross, high and fast? Yes! Coloured? Well… just a hint of stewed tea. Hmmm. The next little indicator is the River Dore at Pontrillas, a lowland stream in character and a water which carries more than its fair share of silt, if you can see the bottom in the Dore, the Monnow will be clear as well and if you cant, well that’s nothing new! Thankfully, that river is clear(ish) also.

Things are looking up indeed, so much so that a little more weight on the accelerator is called for. The hill slopes that bank the eastern edge of the A465 pass by in a breakfast flake mosiac of faded ambers and toasted browns; whilst to the west, the soft Novemeber sun works its alchemy on the bracken clad flanks of The Black Mountain. Spirits are rising!
So what about the river? Crossing the old stone bridge over the Honddu at Pandy it is evident that conditions are unexectedly perfect. The water is a little high but on the drop, clear enough to see the bottom yet with just enough colour to offer the angler a little protection. A day full of promise.

Some promises are made to be kept aren’t they? As I’m tackling up for my club water, I am invited to fish another beat of the river. Very, very lightly fished and apart from a half hearted effort with a friend who had more than one eye on the pub clock - pretty much unexplored by me.

The first two casts remind me that some trout are active. One of six inches the other twelve. Wandering up the beat for the next couple of hours shows the stretch to be one of the most stunning beats on the upper Monnow I have fished. Over a dozen fish to hand, browns to 14″ and grayling to 12″ with plenty more missed or pricked.

The thought of having a prime bit if unfished, upper monnow to myself is almost too much to cope with, and here’s why:

and here’s another glassy run, chock full with feisty grayling and big wild trout that haven’t heard that it’s time for the winter game yet.

Quite unsurpassable fishing; at least until the next visit…