Here he is, skulking on the bottom just after being released, my biggest trout from the Wensum to date. A very respectable twelve incher. He was behind a log, back of a bend, one of his little brothers causing a commotion on the surface just ahead. I put on a hairs ear, and cast it into the fast water coming down from my right. Out he shot, barged his little brother aside, and snaffled the nymph first time.
Further upstream I came across a weir pool. I could see them rising on the right; where the current curved against the bank after tumbling over the sill. I managed to get into a decent casting position and put a parachute Greenwell’s Glory onto the current. A split second after the fly landed a fish – which I missed – slashed at the fly, and then before I’d even had a chance to bring it in and re-cast another leapt clear of the water and came down bang on top of the fly. Well, that’s honestly what it looked like, but I guess if you played it back in slow-mo probably the fish took the fly on its way out of the water. Whatever, it was a damned nice fish and it screamed across to the left of the pool toward a weed-wrack, giving me plenty of time to realise that this was something altogether different from even the twelve-incher of downstream, before the hook slipped and the pool was dead. I headed shoreward. The other side of the weir the river was shallow and straight, the banks were steep, and the wind was in my face. Surprisingly I saw fish, big fish and plenty of them. However they just weren’t feeding, laying lethargic on the bottom and not reacting to anything flywise. My theory is because it’s quite open, the sun was bright and they had no cover, they were probably being a little cagy and waiting ’til evening to come on the feed. Unfortunately, today, I couldn’t wait ’til evening so they will have to wait, but hopefully only ’til tomorrow!
They say your best chance is with your first cast don’t they?