It only took an afternoon find the big fish! I’d searched the beat and run a Copper Mepps through its hidey hole. From my position on a high bank, I’d observed a fish lazily following my offering only to turn away at the last second. I logged it away, Salmon or Sea Trout I couldn’t tell, but it was was a good one and I knew exactly where it lay.
There were 3 other big fish I’d marked in the area. In another pool downstream, an almighty splash in the middle of the night before had given one away. The other two however, were in a magnificent pool that marked the no mans land between ours and another beat downstream. Saved for desperation stakes, but it’s just not “cricket” to venture onto someone else’s water, even if there is a fine dividing line.
We’d enjoyed a late dinner and a few glasses of wine but the evening was passing slowly. Late night TV was blearing from the other room. The guys had got addicted to “Bitchin Kitchen”. I don’t think they were interested in the recipes, but they had been away for a few days and she was very easy on the eye.
I got my head down and stole an hours shut eye.
It must have been around midnight when we finally got going. The full moon that had been threatening us for the last few nights was finally with us. I’d been preying for cloud cover but as we walked down through the fields our shadows followed us as if it was broad daylight.
I’ve been out on better nights, but the boys had traveled a long way for this chance.
The river was quiet, nothing moving, dew already fully formed in the long grass! The chance of a river mist increasing by the second, something else to add to the list of no-no’s that plague your chances of a Sewin.
No need for lights, we found our way upstream to the pool with the big fish and the tree lined north bank. There would be a shadow there. Indian file, the loudest noise an owl screeching somewhere in the distance and the only visible light at the porch of our cottage.
You see? these fish like it blacker than a witches heart. It’s a fine time to fish and an intense experience. You have to experience it to understand how guys can get addicted to this.
Blacker than a witches heart
And this was a private beat in the Tiefi valley in high season, a Mecca for us kind of guys.
The night was getting cold but the mist hadn’t quite formed as Josh threw his first cast with a black and silver fly. He let it swing over pool whilst I found a comfortable spot in the bushes. I sat back to watch, pulled up my hood, smoked a cigarette and promptly drifted off into a deep sleep.
I don’t know how long I was there before a loud shout of “Fish On!” had the same effect as a bucket of water thrown in my face. First instinct was to light the scene and I saw Josh’ rod bend deep into the butt, the fish splashing heavily in the surface. The sound, hugely magnified by the still night and the depth of the pool.
This was the fish of a lifetime! Please! Please! Don’t let it get away!
Jesus Christ! I left the net in the cottage! Luckily the fish swam towards Josh and as much as I wish I could regale you with a tale of a long and heroic fight. My first instinct was to jump in the water and make a grab for it. My hands cradled around her belly and the wrist of the big square tail and we had her.
It was only then, I realised the other two guys had walked upstream in time to witness the whole event and luckily, between us, we found a camera and tape measure. As our lamps lit the scene with an artificial glow, I had to look twice, between the camera flashes, to confirm that it actually read 82cms, a touch over 32 inches.
It took Josh a few moments for it to sink in. He was on his knees cradling the fish but I had to ask him the question. Around here, there are no rules other than the fish was his to with what he wished.
“Take her or let her go mate”? I asked gently.
The struggle was obvious in his eyes, a moment of darkness, quickly suppressed as he stepped into the water and sent her on her way. A powerful flick of that big tail and our lights lost her in the depths. Good man!
As Josh quite aptly summed up the whole event. “Mission accomplished!”