18^th July 2006 

Driving back from the riverside late last night, collecting juicy fat moths on my windscreen, I was distracted by a phone call from my dearly beloved at 11:32pm precisely: “David! Where are you? This is just ridiculous!….. and you’ve got school tomorrow!” If only she knew, to be spoken to like a naughty boy at the end of it all merely made a fine evening’s fishing all the more enjoyable.

Yesterday evening’s fishing was as Rob’s guest on a lovely privately owned stretch some way below my usual stamping ground. It was about 6:45 by the time we had foraged our way through the woods, crossed the river and made our way to the fishing hut. With the sun still in frazzling form we sunk into the shade to enjoy a nicely chilled pre-fish beer, and then to the main business, the ruthless pursuit of wild brown trout. There is something inexplicably tantalising about fishing a new stretch of water and as we strolled through the meadows and maze fields to the bottom of the beat I tried to drink in every potential riffle, glide and pool as Rob gave commentary on the water.

Evicting a cormorant from the first run wasn’t quite the start I’d hoped for but nevertheless I managed to bump two fish on the CDC & Elk and goldhead PTN rig before creating a gargantuan bird’s nest. Despite an abundance of fly life, there was zero surface activity and even upstream where Rob was fishing a lovely looking glide that flowed evenly between tree lined banks with ample pools of shade, there was little doing.  It is at times like this that despondency can set in, Ok we’re “out on the river”, in “you can’t beat this really can you?” surroundings, with the brassy rays of the evening sunshine piercing the trees like spotlights. The trouble is…. we came here to catch fish and this place looks devoid of them right now. “Well I’m just amazed nothing came to that” exclaims Rob as another fishy looking run turns sterile under my cast. Amazement turns to despair as two more runs are explored fruitlessly.

There’s no point changing fly I think, the fish aren’t hungry are they, and who can blame them, Christ I could hardly manage an egg and cress serine earlier. A moment of hope arrives when Rob’s parachute adams accounts for a feisty 8″ fish, and suddenly all the gloom is lifted as we can see other fish rising further upstream. Around the corner is a fantastic looking riffle and run, easily the most oxygenated water I’ve come across yet. A perfect food funnel which just has to hold some feeding fish…….. surely. Rob generously offers me the cast and after switching the nymph to a heavier GRHE I am in business. A swooshing take snatches the Caddis from view, the line tightens and a really lovely fish is well and truly hooked. A couple of acrobatic leaps and powerful surges later and I manage to bring the fish to hand - a gorgeous wild fish of 14″, you beauty!!! Rob remarks that he wouldn’t be surprised if another decent fish is in the lie, possibly its brother. As it turns out, the next cast produces not his brother but a second cousin once removed, a lovely grayling, and if anything just a little larger than his relative. Well, now what a fantastic evenings fishing this is!!

Off we move upstream, two large chub glide by like battle cruisers out on exercise before Rob moves on to explore an enticing run that tails out of a riffle and under some overhanging alders - the cast looks difficult but he is not troubled by such concerns and soldiers on. I am faced with a thirty yards of flat water lined with bushes on the far bank and clumps of crass and reeds on the near. A solitary mayfly skitters by looking for the party, he’s a little late. The water looks far from ideal for the nymph but maybe there is a fish out there who is up for a caddis supper. The third cast produces a lovely 12″ trout to the caddis before I am distracted by an increasing number of noisy rises 10yds below me, I am just in the process of dismissing them as the chub I saw earlier when one of them clears the water and the issue: At least one of them is a large trout. So, a bit of stealth called for here, I exit the water as quietly as I can - try to picture those Wildlife On One progs when the Zebra make their annual pilgrimage accross the Masai Mara river - and then creep noislessly downstream to a casting point below the rising fish - try to picture a bull elephant seal sloshing its way across the rocks. However despite my clumsiness, - oh joy! the fish are still rising. The nymph rig is swiftly replaced with a size 12 Double Badger tied with golden badger hair, it looks good enough to eat. And here we go………. 3 super fish to over 12″ in quick succession, the first leaping and looping mid-stream before trying to find a hole under a willow root the others equally sporting and just gorgeous to look at. All the way down the flat water large dimples are appearing. Lordy, I could fill my boots here! And if only I hadn’t taken my own thoughts quite so literally for my next step finds a large steeply angled slab of bedrock, whoooops and whoooa, and… the plunging Zebra impression is complete - oh for f*cks sake! Sodden through I decide enough is enough and slop along to find Rob, he has not been enjoying th emost productive of evenings by his standards and is in the process of bemoaning the fact when he obliges with one for the gallery just as I arrive at his shoulder, a lovely big wild fish with stunning markings and muscular condition.

Thats in then, time for pork pies, beers and the odd marlboro whilst we swap inanities and more ideas for next years Monnow social. Many thanks for a lovely evening Rob - we will do it again, wont we?