In the closed season this year I have found myself with more time to read (discovering Sidney Spencer and re-discovering KM) and reflect on the season gone by.

A couple of memories stand out.

The first was on a late May evening at about 11.30 on a small West Country river. A bit too early for any serious sea trout sport but always the chance of a large fresh run fish. I had tucked myself in on a reed bed on the outside bend of a slow corner pool and made a hopeful cast towards the inside corner on the opposite bank. I could see the V of the surface lure in the bright moonlight as I tweaked it back against the flow towards my hiding place. At that point I was fishing with a fairly high degree of concentration as this was my first cast of the year for peal and was yet to find my enthusiasm dulled by the lack of surface activity that's common in May on this river. Just as I was lifting off, with less than a rod length of line and leader outside of my rod tip, there was an almighty swirl under my nose as what sounded like the biggest sea trout I have ever encountered lunged at the fly. For a few seconds there was solid, determined resistance and then nothing, the fly bobbing back to the surface like the barrel in Jaws! I did managed to land a few other fish later in the season but this is the one that haunts me.

The second was sharing a rod with my Nine year old nephew Matt on my local stream. It was his second ever trip out fishing and I’d picked him up a cheap rod and reel set from Veals the day before and we were both keen to Christen it!

Starting a couple pools below the concrete bridge, always a good swim, Matt swam a red and white maggot combination through the current only to have them vandalized by minnows. Out the corner of my eye I spotted the black edged fins of a good chub patrolling the tail of the pool. With fresh bait we managed to circumvent the minnows and the float disappeared with perfect timing. Matt was connected to the biggest fish of his life.

The Chub was duly landed, photographed and returned in Matt's shaking hands. It would have made at least 2.5lbs.

Interested to hear anyone else's highlights.

Cheers

Jon

Stalking a big brownie at chalk springs. He was in the smallest lake, but had made his home tight to the inflow on the far side, where hardly anyone fishes. He'd been in the lake for some time, and each time i tried to catch him, he utterly ignored my fly, or i made a complete hash of it by catching the bank or the outflow pipe. one day, in July I went down to reacquaint myself with him, and sure enough there he was, only this time he was patrolling along a weed bed very tight to the bank before returning to his lie. After a while i realised he was only interested in a fly rising in the water column, and then only if he hadn't seen it sink. I cast behind him with, i admit, a fairly large marabou damsel and waited for his patrol route to bring him round again. The first few lifts of the fly were met with solid charges by the fish, once actually mouthing the fly, before he went 'off' again. I perservered with the method, and was just about considering changing the fly, when for no reason he sauntered up, and inhaled the fly. A very dogged fight ensued before he came to the net. bit of an old warrior, but a lovely fish of 14lb 2oz



Lowlights were stalking an unfeasably large brown that was patrolling a very deep hole in another lake, the light was going and it was tricky to make him out. I'd thrown all my large easily seen flies at him, with no response so put on a tiny tungsten headed grhe and dropped it into the depths. the fish swam round again and i didn't see the take, until i saw him try and eject the fly. I struck, and the rod hooped over, the fish lifted slightly in the water and 'yawned', and out popped the fly. Oh well, win some, lose some.

Nice Fish BB. Well worth the patience and effort.

14lb 2oz and the smallest in the lake!?

LOL sorry, meant he was in the smallest lake..!

Oops, no my mistake. Enjoyed that thought while it lasted though!