27th May

Well, I have had it bad recently and today was the day for Dr Trout & Nurse River to make it all better - hah! Today was simply marvellous. Have tried to put into words the sheer exhilaration and unbridled joy at being on the river smack dab in the middle of a swarming hatch of Mayfly. Needs to be more than river high, caught some fish so here goes:

Anticipation of a days fishing on the river is a crap recipe for a sleeping potion and I woke early this morning, too early, 5:15am to be precise. Curtains were flung back and the window framed a promising view of dove grey sky, torn with streaks of ivory cream. TO my way of meteorological thinking, these were fine portents which hinted perchance at a cloak of late morning sunshine to warm my shoulders and stir the wings of those dancing Danica. Alas though! The television screen framed a somewhat different view, a stark character who was surely the reincarnation of some miserable Old Testament Prophet: “So that’s it - Rain, rain and more rain!” - I could swear she was smiling. Undeterred, bacon and eggs were hammered down and a flask hastily thrown in the boot along with all the other essentials.

At the river for 9:15. That dove grey sky is now slate blue and the promising shards of ivory cream completely engulfed. However, we’ve not come all this way to be put off by a little rain have we? The river is a little high and a little coloured but - as Cranefly promised - eminently fishable, wagtails are flibberty-gibberting about and a Heron, looking uncomfortably full, politely vacates his post at my first port of call. Making my way upstream of Longtown bridge, its still early so good old GRHE comes out and a plump half pounder obliges second cast, in fact there seem to be a lot of very obliging trout in this first 60yds or so of stream - fantastic sport and, well I think, if I’m rained off by 11:30, I’ll still have had some fun. By now I am starting to feel very wet, the rain has changed from clingy drizzle to invasive downpour:-( Hmmm - not good but around the bend is a nice pool which surely deserves a good nymphing. Arriving poolside I am struck - literally - in the face by a large yellow Mayfly and then another and another and another and… “Sod the nymph - just look at the surface of the pool” - pockmarked with rings like a giant crumpet. By now my fingers are trembling at I struggle to tie on one of Jean William’s delightful grey wulf type patterns. Eventually all is right and proper and fishing can commence - this is an experience I will not forget - fantastic aggressive takes from beautiful feisty wild brownies, each perfect in its own way - 6 fish to hand from this pool and 6 lost!!

Time and I wander away down the river bank together, each oblivious of the other. All along the river, the Mayfly are everywhere, I’m no entomologist so I’ll describe them as best as I can: big ones, little ones, fluffy ones, skinny ones, brown ones with pointy tails and yellow ones with barber shop stripes down the abdomen, and some that like they have just dropped into the Brecons from Sesame St. But who cares? not the trout, and certainly not me… and whilst I haven’t seen too many that look quite as fierce as Jeans Grey number, the trout are quite convinced that Jean Williams does indeed bake exceedingly good Mayflies. Also - have these trout got radar? The river is by now looking like something from the set of Charlie and The Chocolate Factory.

Everywhere I stop, there are fish waiting to be caught - and what’s surprising is the consistent quality of these fish. There is the odd fingerling but the overwhelming majority are all 10″ minimum with some a fair bit bigger. Not massive I know but they’re wild and wonderful - each an individual work of beauty, sculpted and spotted by the hand of natures artist.

I could go but you’re probably losing the will to live! I’m exhausted - I need two pints of raw adrenalin to re-fuel. Today was fantastic - well over two dozen fish to hand with plenty more who got the better of me.

I’ll post some photos for those that are interested in the Photo gallery but I’ll close with a couple of shots from my favourite moment of the day. At the height of the rain, I could hear a slapping rise of a fish hanging under a raft of foam below a large clump of Hemlock:

After working out my cast, I managed to winkle my fly into the raft and this little belter obliged:

The poetry is for Cothi!!

With apologies to Sarah Teasdale - not that she’ll be reading this, she’s dead but, well, you know….

Oh let me shut my eyes, close out
the sight of stars and earth and be
Sheltered a minute by this tree.
Hemlock, through your fragrant boughs
there moves no anger and no doubt,
No envy of immortal trout.