I had one lovely trout and a couple of half

In many parts of the world there is no problem at all with trout fishing after dark, but in England we do seem to have difficulties. I guess that it is mostly down to the economics of running large fisheries at night and the associated costs of staffing. However, we got round to imagining a night session on Chew or Rutland and the potential of catching some of the large resident fish.I often visit Ireland and generally manage to “hide” some rods in the boot of the car! I usually get in a fair amount of fishing, but how late in the day many Irish anglers actually set out always surprises me. On one occasion in 1993 I fished one of the Midland lakes that was “on form”. There was not another boat on the lake! I noted the usual number of private jetties with numerous boats tied up, so I felt this was interesting. I had arranged for my wife to come and collect me at 11.00pm, well after dark. The sport was not exactly brisk – I had one lovely trout and a couple of half-hearted pulls. Thirty minutes before I packed in the first of the locals arrived. By the time that I went ashore virtually every boat on the lake was either being prepared or was afloat. I heard the next day that sport had been excellent! Lesson learned? I would like to say so, but it is not always as easy as all that. On my last visit to Ireland I was guiding two anglers from the Borders. We were staying in a hotel and, with having to comply with hotel times, always packed up at dusk – just as the fish would be thinking of “moving”.In New Zealand I did plenty of night fishing, but mostly for their enormous eels! However, on several occasions I just had to set up my fly rod and trout fish, as there were so many “slurping” in the margins. There was no great need for delicacy; in fact a rather splashier landing of the fly seemed to provoke a more immediate response. I cannot claim to have caught any monsters at night, but I was amazed as to how so many stretches of river and banks of lakes came alive with fish activity, when during the day they appeared to be totally devoid of fish. My favourite river was the Haupiri, and one stretch just above the road bridge before the settlement looked good, but in the whole year that I fished it I saw not one trout there. On my last ever trip to the river before returning to England I had decided to stay into the dark. I had walked as far upstream as I had ever done in a day, so wearily made my way home. The stars were shining and I felt really sad about this being my last fishing trip in New Zealand. I crossed the road bridge and looked upstream as I had done so often before. This time however there was a rising trout which was coming to the surface with serious regularity. I slipped off the bridge and into position below it and in the moonlight tried to spot its position – not so easy at river level as it had been from the bridge. Fortunately for me, it was quite a noisy riser and I was soon able to get to the right spot and cover it. On the third or fourth cast it took the heron herl cul, and I struck into a fine fish. It fought admirably in the strong current running along the bank, but I safely netted and gently returned the fish, which would have been about two and a half pounds. I sat back on the rock to soak up the atmosphere and was startled to hear another fish rising – no more than two to three yards further upstream. I couldn’t believe that the fish that I had just caught hadn’t disturbed it! I dried the fly with a couple of false casts and immediately hooked this fish, which again fought well and was about half a pound heavier than the previous one. Two fish in as many casts from a river that had made me work so hard for the few fish that I had caught from it! I sat back again and took in the events and, as you may have guessed, the same thing happened. I caught one more fish, which was about the same size as the first one, but then decided that it really was too easy. I sat back down and tried to sum up why I wasn’t going to fish for any of the dozen or so fish that I could see or hear rising. This river had drawn me back time and again; partly due to its sheer beauty, but also due to the size of fish that it produced. All of the fish that I caught from it were remarkably hard earned with mile upon mile of walking involved. Yet here, after dark, when in all honesty I had already packed up and was walking back to my tent, I had caught three trout in half a dozen casts and I believe would have caught several more. When I go back to New Zealand I am certainly going to try some serious after dark fishing!Back to home where we all look forward to that last hour when even on the most dour of days there is a chance of something showing on top. The staff at Chew and Blagdon are great and allow fishing until one hour after sunset. This means that on some summer evenings you can fish until 10.30. There is no doubt that one catches more brownies after the sun has set! Many evenings have proved to be the saviour of the day afloat! When we head to Rutland the “rule” is different – a much larger reservoir I guess necessitates more stringent safety rules, and one has to head for the boat dock whilst it is still light. I have had many frustrating evenings motoring away from rising fish due to the fact that it is a twenty or thirty minute trip back to the jetty. I think it would be great to allow some experimenting as regards fishing into the night on our reservoirs. I am certain that anglers would be keen to try it out. What about it you fisheries managers? I for one will be willing to test it.Tight lines,

Martin Cottis