I fished the Avening Green section at Charfield on Wednesday. Crossing the stone bridge I saw that I was not alone; another angler was in the water just down stream. Stopping for a chat I was pleased to hear that he had just brought a nice brownie to hand on the dry! This was good news. If you’ve been reading my earlier posts you will know that, though I’ve had plenty of Graying, I have been bemoaning the lack of trout I’ve caught so far this season.
I walked further downstream and entered the water just above the cattle drink. I tackled up with a size 16 ginger/black Klinkhammer over an unweighted pearl thorax PTN and, as I made my first cast I heard a very splashy rise some way upstream. I let my cast drift down and watched the water ahead of me on the off-chance that this was a regular riser. Sure enough, a couple of minutes later I saw the same splashy rise about 25 yards upstream.
Normally I would mark the spot and fish slowly upstream until am within casting range, but this time impatience got the better of me and I made my way upstream, ignoring the possibility of fish between me and my chosen target. I soon came to a section too deep to wade and I was forced to take to the bank. Doing a passable impression of Joe Two Rivers [you have to be of a certain age to remember] I crept forward, keeping low, looking for somewhere suitable to re-enter the water – not easy here as the banks are very high & steep. The only place I could find was way too close for comfort, being only a handful of yards downstream of the fish, but without an alternative entry point I carefully slid down the bank, coming to rest on a tangle of roots.
While I crouched there catching my breath I was re-assured to see another rise – I hadn’t spooked the fish, so I gave myself a mental slap and told myself not to rush this; there would only be one cast.
A low branch dictated a side cast, but that would carry the line directly over the fish. There was no alternative that I could see so I screwed up my courage and, with one false cast flicked the line upstream. I breathed a sigh of releif as it landed softly in exactly the right place – relief was short lived as the Klink was immediately mugged – a take so savage that I was taken aback, even though I was expecting it.
Soon, a surprisingly fit 12″ early season brown graced my net. Lovely to see after my previous worries about the lack of Trout around here, made more satisfying by the manner in which it came.