in the bag

This past season was my second as a sea trout hunter. Hunter? Yes I think so. The research, preparation, approach and execution of tactics in order to catch this fish have the same care spent on them as would similar aspects for the ‘hunting’ of any game animal so, yes: ‘sea trout hunter’ is accurate. I digress…

This season I had better equipment (in terms of rod and reel), more flies of my own (useful investment in a good vice and a range of fly-tying consumables) and a better ‘idea’ of what was needed in execution in terms of casting and working the fly. Last year I had a bite for all of two seconds before it came off and that was my sum total for the season. Now although working a bit of Welsh river in the dead of a warm summer night is an enjoyable experience in itself, I desperately wanted to get a fish on the bank this year, if only to show my friend and guide ‘Seatroutfisher’ that he hadn’t wasted his time on me…

So we had, as usual, split up: I was working downstream of my friend by about 50m or so and I began with the usual thrash about with the rod until I got into a simple rhythm of lift up, pull, lower and retrieve. I must point out here that I do not spend as much time fishing (for anything – let alone sea trout) as I should so practice is carried out on the job and before you go on at me yes, I know Falkus says this should not be the case, but beggars can’t be choosers). I take the view that at this stage in my fishing, every cast is part of a learning curve, the next cast will be better than the last and it will hook into something big. That’s my philosophy at this stage anyway.

Where was I – oh yes, nice simple quiet work, letting the fly come round and doing a gentle retrieve. I was using a smallish black and orange double on its own – I am not confident in the dark with a ‘team’. Tangling the fly every five minutes was last season’s fond memory and I was determined that this year I wanted to spend most of my fishing hours with the hook in the water rather than i) wrapped around the rod tip (mostly), ii) trees (quite often and always with a particularly nice fly) or iii) my head (only once or twice and yes it hurts so this year I am sporting a cap…). After some time I had moved some way along this stretch and I was joined by my friend who wanted to see what I was up to…. Bang! Something took the fly and proceeded to do all those things you have either read about or been fortunate enough to experience. The fish charged about, putting a very satisfying ‘bend in the rod’. I reeled in, relaxed, reeled in and in no time at all it was in my friend’s net and on the bank. A handshake. My first sea trout lying still in the torchlight. No, it wasn’t one of the hoped for torpedo-sized fish that we see cruise up-river under the bridge in the town but it was the Real McCoy, on my fly using my rod. Hah!

It was too small to keep so I let it drift away when happy. It promptly got its own back by telling its mates to clear off because I didn’t get another touch here after that so we moved downriver. I hope it grows up to be a big one and perhaps one day we’ll meet again….