Gentlemen, it has been a little while since I’ve been allowed off the reservation, so it was with butterfly anticipation that, with evening pass stamped and a heavy foot on the throttle of the landrover, I sallied forth down to the river.

Rob was already in the water when I arrived and fishing just above the bridge, flicking his trusty parachute adams out below an enticing series of trailing branches and exploring a bubbling run which often holds a few good fish. It did tonight too. I’d barely arrived on the bridge before he was tightening into another plump brownie - “It’s going to be good tonight, lots of rises, one up there, and another……..” Time to tackle up, toute suite!

Rob emerges from the river and we wander down to fish below the bridge whilst we wait for Neil to show up and complete our party. Last week I received a lovely selection of CDC & Elk dries dressed with flowing trails of golden yellow CDC from Phil Holding at Spidersplus, and tonight is the night to give them a whirl. I fancy them as an indicator fly fished above a gold head PTN. Reckon the trout will fancy them too, at least the cock fish ought to; those long tossed tresses of golden cdc hanging loose and seductive ought to be enough to rouse the spirits of a lusty trout or two. And so they prove, with two lively fish falling under its blonde spell in short succession before the nymph chips in with a third fish. By now Neil has arrived and tackles up hurriedly before a launching a successful foray for the grayling that lie in the highly oxygenated run above the bridge.

As Rob and I make our way downstream we note that there is plenty of fly life about, little olives, sedges and even a few mayfly spinners and we are confident of filling our boots. I dip into a favoured spot and cast to a good fish who sidles up to the dry and blows it a disdainful kiss, he’s obviously had his fins burned by blonde ambition previously. Despite my repeated attempts to tempt him it is clear that he aint interested tonight. One of his mates is a rather more chancy and rash though, paying for his interest before being gently released. Wading upstream I take another two fish, one on the dry the other on the PTN, nothing larger than 10″ but all good fun, I should also say at this point that I am missing plenty of takes too, in case anyone gets the impression that I am ruthlessly efficient. A cast into a side riffle allows the nymph to drift gently along before joining the main funnel of current at which point the cdc & elk disappears violently below the surface. The culprit is a large grayling who tears off downstream before using his dorsal cross-current to make life difficult for me. I always worry when playing large grayling, they fight so hard and always take some time to recover, but this boy must be in prime fettle because after a few seconds of gentle nursing in the stream he bolts off like a scalded cat. Rob has now worked up behind me close enough for me to hear him curse as he is broken off by a really good fish. He then ghosts past me to try his luck upstream.

By now its time to catch up with Rob who is two fields upstream and exploring a lovely little run which weaves between some bushy willows. I watch as his patient presentation finally tempts a picky trout. It’s 8:45 and the surface activity has all but halted, the wind has risen and the air temperature dropped. A quick call to Neil confirms he is perfectly happy where he is, catching fish and having fun. So we decide to go exploring the beat further upstream and reconnoitre some spots that would yield fish under more suitable conditions. The river banks up here are really quite overgrown and the vast swathes of Himalayan Balsam and Willow produce a jungle like experience. I expect to go around the next bend and find Colonel Kahn or Martin Sheen. Thankfully what lies around the next bend is a simply delightful riffle and glide which tails into a lightly choppy pool. Rob urges me to bring out the nymph and his instincts are smack on, this little stretch holds a good shoal of grayling. I introduce myself to 11 of them but only seven of them oblige me with a hand shake.

The light is fading so we turn back for the bridge pool and there we are greeted by the sight of Neil’s rod bending into a nice fish. With the fish released Neil leaves the water and so do half a dozen bottles of beer, which have been chilling for a few hours now. The wind is driving banks of clouds overhead and rain seems imminent but it holds off just long enough for us to enjoy half an hour of profane jokes, a few Marlboros and the sight of a large otter surging downstream through the bridge pool. That’ll do for now we think.