One last cast

Fishing can be fickle, there's fish all around and nothing but nothing will take your fly, 'blinking take it' or words to that effect are screamed in desperation, nothing takes it... Other times, there's no sign of life, least of all pulling at the end of your line, you've lost all hope and are considering your journey home, a possible stop at McDonald's (that fine new Scottish restaurant if you haven't tried it, you must, prices are excellent too) or back to the fishing lodge to retire your beaten mind to the comfort and warmth which is oh so close. I'll finish this pool and I'm calling it or the classic thought 'one more cast' and when that one doesn't work out, another 'one more cast', after all fishers are closet gamblers to some degree. Occasionally though, it works, a fruitless day on the water becomes anything but as the line tightens up and is pulled off the reel, usually as your mind has drifted and you're bought back to reality with a solid feeling of life at the other end of your line and you're in to a fish. My fondest experience of this was fishing the Langollen Maelor section of the Welsh Dee, an historically productive Salmon and Sea Trout river in north Wales. It was the closing days of the Salmon and Sea Trout season and my brother Alex and I had been fishing hard all day catching plenty of Autumn leaves but not a lot else. We'd tried a few pools, driving and walking between our various favourite spots, we'd seen fish and even seen another rod catch. Nothing for us though, conditions were great, the level was up at a medium - high flow (around 600 on the Manley hall gauge) and fish were on their way up stream to spawn in a couple of months time. Hungry and tiring, we pushed on as a fisherman/gambler does. We were truly flogging it, trying all sorts, toward the end of the day we ended up at the last pool, the Ddol Issa beat underneath the power lines. I don't know what it is about power lines but wherever you go, they're always great fishing spots, maybe something to do with the electrical current knocking off the Salmons sat nav temporarily so it takes a rest there... We must have gone through the pool about 4 times each and it was getting dark, I'd ran out of ideas for what to try next so went through with the same set up as my last run through the pool, a small tungsten weighted red Frances fly with an extra fast sink tip to help get it down. Casting off my left shoulder as the trees are too encroaching to do much else, this was an unenjoyable novelty for me at the time and my casting had a lot to be desired. I would put all my effort in to this woeful cast which would produce what looks like a hefty portion of cooked spaghetti somewhere a few feet out from the end of my rod. Eventually the current would get hold of it and the fly would fish properly for half the drift or so. About half way round said drift, probably as the fly came in to life due to the bad casting the line went tight. Initially its hard to know if it is a fish in this circumstance, terrible casting and having your fly sinking down to the bottom, it could just as easily be a rogue tree branch or unfortunately in Wales, a shopping trolley or similar. However, a vigorous head shake felt heavily through the rod soon answered that question. I beckoned my brother who was fishing down the pool, "fish on" I scream as my inner television presenter lets loose. The fight was hard and typical of a cock fish that time of year, he wanted to stay in his lie and wouldn't budge, coming out in to the main flow and then steadily pulling right back to his lie. At one point the fish jumped clean out of the water and we both could see it was a decent fish, beautifully gold in colour like most Salmon at that time of year, it was a true back end October fish acting just like you'd expect after taking just what you'd expect - the red Frances fly but this fish was hard fought for, it was a pursuit from both of us all day, trying everything we knew and on tired legs and eyes at the cusp of darkness we landed this beauty after a few false attempts, it would see the bank and head back out to it's lie but 15 minutes of hard pressure, it succumbed and Al was able to slide the net underneath it giving us both a huge sense of relief and elation. Hook out and carefully returned, it was the memory of a lifetime on what could of been simply another blank day chasing unicorns.