in” to hear the trout feeding, as well as seeing them!

Surely the fish would move this morning! Swifts were hawking the surface, so it seemed a pretty good bet that there were insects hatching. No signs of moving fish as yet. Maybe the choice that I had made for the first drift was wrong. Should I move? No, I will give it to the island and then consider a move!I had, as usual opted for a team of dries; the point fly was my favourite red size 12 red bits, very sparsely tied; the middle dropper was a size 14 orange/red bits; the top dropper was a claret size 14, tied a little more generously. I tend to keep my flies sparse – sometimes too sparse! Generally though, I am happy with the effect that they have, and when the fish are on the surface I am confident that I will catch as many as most other anglers.In the oily surface film that was on the water today, I knew that I would be degreasing my leader more often than I would do in a stronger wind. It is easy to spot the leader lying on the surface, and in spite of only having been afloat for ten minutes or so, I noticed that I needed to degrease. Fuller’s Earth and washing-up liquid is as good as any of the products on sale in the lodge, so a small amount from my tub and a good rub down of the leader.As I was degreasing I heard a gentle “sup”. Was it just a wave lap on the side of the boat? No! I heard it again. Immediately my senses were heightened – instinctively, my brain was associating that noise, which in truth was so little different from the hundred other noises out on the water, with the trout that I was out there to catch. I looked in the direction of the sound and spotted a strange pattern in the wave. The light was not really helping me spot the fish, for now I had absolutely no doubt that it was a fish! As I strained to catch sight of it, I heard another “sup”, much further to the left than I had guessed the fish would have moved – maybe there were more than one fish, or I might just have guessed wrongly about the distance covered. I cast my flies about two metres above the last movement, aiming my point fly where I predicted the fish would move next, and as the fly landed, there was a tiny movement in the water where my point fly was. I lifted the rod smartly – none of this “God save the Queen” for me! The water exploded into life as a rather angry rainbow trout leapt into action. Off it went across the wave, the reel whining as the fish took line against the drag. Ten, fifteen, twenty metres. The backing came into view, but the pressure was starting to tell. The fish moved off to the left, but stopped taking line. I regained a considerable amount as the fish “kited” out behind the boat. Next it came rushing towards the boat, and no amount of winding would have enabled me to keep up with it. I stripped the line in, being as careful as I could to keep it safe by my feet. Then off it went again, way out to the left again, though it didn’t get down to my backing this time. The next run was even less powerful, and slowly the fish tired. As it neared the boat, and sensed either the boat or the angler in it , it made one more desperate dash. The six-weight rod absorbed all of the pressure and soon the fish was merely lunging around near the boat. The net was now ready, and though there were a couple of final attempts to dive down, the fish was soon in the net, unhooked over the side of the boat, and held gently but firmly until recovered enough to swim away with a strong flick of the tail.That was the first of several that day, but typical of the way that the sound of rising fish is coupled with the sight of movement! Too many anglers are too busy chatting, or just not “tuned-in” to hear the trout feeding, as well as seeing them!

If only all days started like that one. Quite often it is like that, but not as often as they do in my dreams!