Aardvark McLeod

New Aardvark McLeod Blog

2009-03-09T09:32:00.003Z

Please note that the Aardvark McLeod blog has now moved, please click here to link through to the new blog.

Catching the bus..... but only just

2008-10-17T11:29:00.016+01:00

Roger Young has fished Alphonse Island in the Seychelles a number of times, but he recently had an extraordinary experience there:

The giant trevally (GT) grows to be by far the biggest of the several species of trevally that swim in the waters of the Indian Ocean. For some, its scientific name (caranx ignobilis) is a bit of a mouthful and catching a big one has been corrupted to ‘catching the bus’.

Location: St Francois Lagoon, near Alphonse Island in the Amirantes group of islands in the Seychelles, Indian Ocean. End of October.

Dramatis personae: Etienne (guide), Donald (guide), Roger (fisherman), Crawford (boat partner), Dan (guide)

We knew the tides would not be ideal for bonefish that day, although we’d had an enjoyable couple of hours wading across the coral sand flats casting at both singles and groups of 3-4 lb bonefish running off on the falling tide. Earlier, the fish had been eager to take the lightly dressed size 4 Christmas Island specials we were using but as the tide fell further the last few fish were running fast to make the safety of the lagoon and were in no mood to feed. Now it was late morning, sight casting for bonefish was finished, the tide was out, the flats dry, there was no wind and the near equatorial sun was blazing down. With almost nothing to see but lagoon and sky your whole world is coloured different shades of blue. A stunningly beautiful place but it can be a bit bleak for fishing until the tide starts to make again and the bones come back onto the flats.

Donald, our guide, was undeterred and suggested we go cruising along some of the many coral edges looking for GT’s. We agreed and were soon motoring steadily across part of the huge St Francois lagoon. About 100 yards from a long coral finger the revs were cut for a silent approach and we slid quietly towards the edge.

Suddenly Donald hissed at me ‘you, up front, get ready, quick’. I hadn’t seen anything but jumped on to the front of the skiff, unhooked the fly and started stripping line off the reel, a few moments later seeing what Donald had seen 20 yards earlier, a dark male GT of maybe 40lbs swimming steadily a few feet down and a few feet from the coral. ‘Cast, cast’ there was no mistaking the urgency on Donald’s voice (even experienced guides get excited at the sight of a good GT). I cast, but very badly, as the fly landed too short and behind the fish. There was not enough line out to load the 11 wt rod. ‘Cast again, longer, quick, quick’. Some of you may identify with the fumbling semi-panic that hits you when your guide is urging you on, you are trying to rip more line off the reel, keeping your balance on the front of the boat, trying not to stand on the coils of line round your feet, watching the fish swim further away , …………

Anyway, I yanked off a few more yards of line, lifted off, one false cast and plopped the fly back hard about 10 feet from the fish. Two strips of a couple of feet, the GT saw the fly, half-turned and swam towards it. Yes, yes, yes, my very first GT was going to take. Two more short strips, it was 2 or 3 seconds from the fly but it did not take …… because a big silver fish we hadn’t seen rose from the depths, engulfed the fly, turned down and disappeared.

It happened so fast. No more than 5 or 6 seconds from the time of the fly landing to the previously unseen fish disappearing. I lifted the rod (a mistake) and struck. You are told that it’s much better to strip-strike big fish to set the hook, but by then the line was being ripped off the reel so all I could do was to handbrake the spool a bit, hit the fish a couple more times and then tighten the drag. I hadn’t really seen how big this fish was but as I screwed the drag down more and more it seemed make little difference. I believe it was Oscar Wilde who coined the shortest story about catching big fish at about six words ….’ It pulled, but I pulled harder’. This fish however was pulling so much harder than anything I had ever caught before on a fly rod. The first run of a big salmon, the lunges of a double figure sea-trout, the violent run of a good bonefish, these are all memorable, but this was like being connected to a tractor. And sure enough, with backing being pulled off relentlessly against a very heavy drag setting, the bow swung towards the fish and gradually it started to tow us.

Fortunately when I struck into the fish and the rod tip slammed over, the anglers on a nearby skiff saw what was happening and started to take photos. After a couple of minutes with a lot of backing out and more still pouring off the reel, I admitted that this fish was just unstoppable, so Donald started the motor and began a slow follow. A few minutes later, the backing suddenly angled down more steeply into the water – disaster – we were snagged round a coral head many feet down. I was told later that being cut off on coral snags is how a lot of big GT’s are lost. I tried holding the rod vertically downwards and moving it round the snag – no good we were still stuck. Backing was still being pulled off the reel and rubbing round the coral and I was waiting for the sickening feeling of being cut-off when the motor stopped and Donald jumped overboard, fully clothed, boots and all. Within a few seconds he had dived down and freed the line, which jerked straight, again. He surfaced, swam back to the boat, Crawford hauled him aboard, the motor was started and we resumed the slow pursuit.

After that amazing escape I remember thinking how lucky it was that earlier that morning as we were loading the skiffs, Etienne had spotted that the spool on the reel was loose in its cage. Had I not tightened it then it would undoubtedly have dropped out under pressure. Ten minutes or so later into the fight, more drama, as we were snagged again but this time the backing was around a much deeper coral head. Surely this was going to be the end. As I turned in mute plea to Donald he cut the motor and went overboard for the second time, diving down out of sight and several long seconds later resurfacing without success or so I thought. Actually he had freed the backing from the deep coral but now it had wrapped round the pliers on his belt. Crawford reached out to grab him, helped him untangle himself and hauled him aboard again, making the skiff rock suddenly, whereupon I fell backwards. It was chaotic but the line was free and the fish was still on. The brutal press of the GT had not altered and for the next 15 minutes or so Donald skillfully matched the speed of the boat to that of the fish. By pumping and winding, pumping and winding we started to make line back.

We passed very close to another coral head but luckily the fish swam straight on. With my right arm shaking from the strain we saw the near end of the fly line emerging from the water some 30 minutes after it had disappeared. A few minutes after that and you could just make out the grey outline of the fish still swimming directly away from us. It didn’t actually seem that big but then it’s very easy to underestimate the size of fish in the water. Up to now I had been able to hold the rod at a low angle to play the fish off the reel for maximum pressure and how glad I’d been for the Sage’s second fighting grip above the handle.

As we got closer to the fish I had to hold the rod up higher to cushion the fish’s heavy lunges and I was very aware that fly rods are not ideally suited to pumping heavy weights up through the water, but the rod coped brilliantly with this abuse. Nearly 40 minutes had elapsed when the fish at last turned sideways-on and after a few more minutes of slugging it out, turned over on its side. Donald had the big landing net ready when the fish suddenly lunged forwards a few more yards taking it right next to another coral edge – for the first time I was really nervous that I was going to lose it right a the end.

Luckily, Dan, another guide who had been shadowing us (and from whose boat the photos were taken) reacted very quickly, ran his skiff aground, jumped out and ran across the coral pulling on armored gloves. He reached down and at the second attempt grabbed the fish by the tail and beached it. I was aching, shaking and all I could think of to say was ‘waoooooooooooooooow’

After an alarm ridden 40 minute fight it was a beautiful GT – the fish of a lifetime on a 9ft single-handed fly rod. A magnificent, glistening silver female, 129 centimeters for length estimated at 80 lbs landed about 1.5 km from where it was hooked, with the barbless hook in the corner of its mouth at the end of a heavily frayed leader. After measurement and photos the guides took her back to the coral edge where after a few moments recovery she slid quietly away into the waters of the lagoon.

My thanks go to:-

- Etienne Quilindo for his sharp eyes spotting the reel was loose

- Crawford Jamieson for hauling Donald back into the boat twice and for not once saying ‘get a move on’ as I took an hour from his fishing day

- Dan Oas for his lightening quick reactions in spotting the final danger and landing the fish by hand

- Ray Reed for the photographs

- And most particularly Donald Loze. Without his extradordinary guiding and diving skills I would never have caught the fish. It is as much his as mine.

Returning to your roots

2008-09-24T20:05:00.014+01:00

Like many fly fishermen I began life as a trout fisherman. It was not until I was ten or so that my family began to dabble with salmon fishing, and not until I started guiding at sixteen did I really find out what I was doing. Through all that time I have always been a trout fisherman whether it be fishing chalkstreams or lakes. Many of the skills I learnt stalking trout on clear flowing waters or hitting rising fish at range on a lake have stood me in good stead and translated easily to saltwater when I started bonefishing 12 years ago.

I recently moved into the Test valley, which has been a life long ambition, so I have moved to the home of fly fishing... to where it all began. These are the rivers that the likes of Halford, Skues, Hills and Barton refined our sport from blowing a live insect on long rods to the modern form of casting a fly and targeting individual fish. For those that have never read their books I would highly recommend it. Not only does it open a window on the history of our sport but also teaches you a huge amount. The advances they made at that time are still current and the amount of scientific detail that they learnt from observation is extraordinary.

Moving down here obviously has its benefits, and during this summer I decided to take my father to fish one of my favourite beats on the river where the Dever meets the Test. I booked this through Howard Taylor at Upstream Dry Fly who has access to a number of fantastic pieces of the Test, Itchen, and other prime chalkstreams in the south.

My father had only ever fished the Test once in his life as most of his chalkstream fishing is confined to Norfolk, so this was a real treat for both of us. We arrived on the beat early so that we could make a day of it, and as we arrived the mist was just clearing off the meadows. The weather over the previous week had been a little tempestuous, but we were relieved to see that the it seemed to be holding. As the two of us tackled up by the car the mist began to evaporate revealing the most stunning clear water of the Dever.

As I used to guide on these rivers a while ago I knew this particular stretch well, and we headed off down the bank eager with anticipation of the day ahead. It seemed like every lie and depression held a good sized brownie, and starting at the bottom we edged our way along hunting.. I small hatch of blue winged olive started, and there, suddenly on the edge of the next bend was the kiss of a rise. My father worked some line off the reel and lengthened his cast before gently dropping the fly on the surface. I watched the fish in the water, the fly was a little wide. The fish twitched as it went past, but did not make the effort to move too far out of its line.

"A little further to the left" I indicated. Again the line sang through the rings and the this time the angle was right. Almost as soon as the imitation CDC olive hit the surface the fish rose to the surface and sucked it down. He struck and the little Thomas & Thomas bucked as the brownie shot down past us. After a few short run he brought it to the net and I quickly released it. A lovely fish of about 2 lbs. We took a few more fish as we moved up the stretch until we came to the confluence of these two rivers.

A fish rose out in the middle of the main Test, quite a long cast up from us. I suggested trying one of Alistair Robjents' daddy long legs patterns that I have always found a killer here. These fish see so many Mayfly patterns they will often hit a terrestrial pattern rapidly. It always amuses me that it works so well, especially as J. Hills describes it as "rather common and not worth imitating". I tied one on and my father had to really punch a long line up into the middle of the stream. As he hauled the line you could almost hear the little 8'6" protesting about the treatment. I have always admired my father's casting as what he lacks in power he makes up for in finesse. I have never been a particularly elegant caster, mostly making up for my bad timing with power, so it is always a pleasure to watch him push his envelope a little. That fly sailed up the river, landing a good twenty to twenty five yards upstream.
A fish of about three pounds came bodily out of the water to try and smack the fly and in his excitement he struck the fly out away from the fish. Cursing. The fish had not been pricked though, so out flew the graceful arc of line again. the fly dropped, drifted for a yard and then disappeared as something large engulfed it. This time dad uttered an expletive as the fish tore line off the reel.... upstream..... The little rod was bent right over in a long curve, the little Hardy reel squealing its protest. I don't think it had ever really been tested like this, and I noticed dad was now palming the rim to prevent over run. there went the backing joint followed by ten yards and then twenty yards of orange backing.
"That is a serious fish dad!" I said as I went for the net. He grimaced as the pressure on that fine tippet began to increase. The line slackened, and I thought the worst had happened... but no, the fish was now heading down stream towards us. We stampeded down the bank trying to stay in touch with it as he reeled frantically. The large trout was now holding in the current above us, almost opposite where we had been standing as he hooked it, and I could clearly see the Robjents' Daddy sitting snug in the scissors. I inched my way down the bank with the net extended, muttering directions to someone who really did not need them. Habit I suppose, but quite annoying, so I quickly shut up. As I sank the net in the water dad began to pump the fish over towards us. To begin with he had very little effect, but slowly the trout began to tire and he moved slowly in my direction. As he moved over the net I raised the edge and he was ours. My father's face split into a huge grin, the pressure now over. I would never have let him forget it if he had lost it! My wife, who had been snapping pictures furiously, caught the moment perfectly. The fish weighed in a 6 1/2 lbs, and is his biggest fish from a chalkstream.

After a fantastic lunch at the Peat Spade Inn, the three of us hooked and released a good number more, especially when the evening rises really kicked off. I think I can say that it was one of the most perfect days I have had on a chalkstream. It is always a pleasure to fish on these historic waters and for me it is just great to be on the river, watching the world go by. My father and I have been fly fishing together since I was about seven. I remember scampering along the bank after him, learning about the creatures and insects that inhabited this environment, how they made up the trout's diet, or having him tie on my flies or untangle my latest mess. It is great to be able to return the favour.

Post Royal County of Berkshire Show, Newbury

2008-09-22T17:32:00.004+01:00

The weather gods were shining on us this weekend and we had perfect conditions throughout. Morning mist would clear away as the moisture evaporated in the blazing sunshine. We only had a small stand for Newbury, but Charlotte and I kept busy through the two days and spoke to a good number of people.

What I found most interesting was that most who came to talk to us wanted to chat about the combination trips that we do to such places as Belize, Africa, Seychelles and South America. The combination of equatorial jungle lodges and fantastic fishing operation on the coast seemed to really strike a cord, so I am loking forward to organising some more of these itineraries for couples and famillies. Before any of you are wondering about the state of play after the various hurricanes have moved through the Carribean all the Belize Lodges were untouched.

We were also lucky enough to be located next to Chris Elliott from Animal Artistry, so I am already planning to cover the walls of the office in reproduction casts! Chris' work is outstanding, and I know of him by reputation from a number of clients who have had replicas done by him, so it was a pleasure to meet him face to face.

Again, thank you to those of you that came along to see us, we do enjoy hearing about your adventures and discussing potential plans for the future.

Royal County of Berkshire Show, Newbury

2008-09-17T10:07:00.001+01:00

Having just about fought off the jet lag of Canada and caught up in the office we are off to the Royal County of Berkshire show where we will be exhibiting this weekend (20th & 21st September). For any of you who are in the vicinity we would love to see you! Our stand will be on Avenue K, no. 423 which is in the country Area near the Blue Circle gate. We will be on hand as usual to meet people and chat about any trips of interest.

Henry dissappeared off to Ireland immediately on our return and I know he has been smashing bass, for an update please have a look at his blog. I think that many saltwater fishermen's attention will be on our domestic bass in the future, and with this in mind we will be crafting some tailoured itineraries to Ireland next year to hunt bass with Henry. If anyone is interested then please drop me an email.

Charlotte and I are also finalising our autumn newsletter which is packed with new destinations for next season and we are really excited about it. If you are not already registered on our mailing list then you can easily do so from the website.

Miramichi River, Little Southwest River

2008-09-12T14:31:00.001+01:00

Our last full day we were once again to fish from Upper Oxbow Lodge with Brett. Brett wanted to take us quite a long way up the river, so we left Country Haven Lodge with Axel bright and early at 0600. Again, after some coffee and much chuntering about Ford trucks we unloaded into Brett's Chevy and headed off. The light was just beginning to make it over the tops of the trees as we drove up the course of the Little Southwest. We left the main track and began to again crash through trees and undergrowth along a forgotten track than eventually popped us out on the banks of one of the most picturesque pools I have ever fished.

The pool is called Clelands, and is one of the most northerly pools on the river before the tributaries such as the North Pole Stream, and although it is a bit of struggle to reach is therefore not fished too much. To arrive on the fishing side we had to wade across the main river, which is a reasonably tough wade. This was made more so as we had to carry Axel's Dog Jake across the river. We took it slowly, crossing as a group before starting fishing on the upper pool. There are some huge boulders strewn along the river, and like the Little Sevogle it has a mountainous surrounding which make it stunning. They also make the topography of the river bed full of large boulders, swirling water and lovely looking lies. Almost as soon as we arrived a couple of fish jumped near the main lie.

Axel and I both fished own the upper pool a couple of times with various patterns, but could not get a touch. Axel took Jake (his dog) and headed down to the lower section to try his luck with a bomber as I fished the upper pool once more with something a little larger. There was a yell from down stream that Axel had rolled a fish on the bomber, and he took up station like a heron in the middle of the river continuing to persevere with various sizes and colours of bomber. Brett took his leave and said he would start lunch up by the truck. He had a real treat for us, a moose fillet which he was going to cook on the BBQ. As the meat sizzled on the open flames the smell wafted down the river and had both Henry and I salivating.

Shaking it off I decided to move down and join Axel on the lower pool with the dry fly. I saw where the large boil ricochet off the boulder and began to surreptitiously plant my green butt bomber along the seam.... The sun split the cloud and as I moved down the seam the sun spilled across it. In that instant the fly disappeared in a boil and I struck. The fish immediately left the water and tail walked across the lie before tearing off down stream. I was fishing with the single hander Miramichi style, so this was interesting! The fish shook its head frantically trying to dislodge the irritation embedded in its jaw. I could see the fly was hooked squarely in the scissors, so for once I had been fast enough on the strike.

Finally after another couple of swirls and a hairy moment by the beach the fish came to hand and I grabbed the wrist and hand tailed it. Not a huge fish, but a very welcome grilse, and a good scrap on a single hander. We got a few photos and then quickly revived the fish in the current before carefully returning him. Nothing gives me more pleasure than watching them swim away, hopefully to go and add to his race. At that moment the car horn sounded and lunch was ready. The smell of moose was too much to take and we all made the wade across the stream.... including Jake.

When we arrived at the truck it was obvious that Brett was a master of the stream side lunch. A table and chairs had been laid out with cutlery, the moose and vegetables were roasting on the BBQ and Brett offered us all cold drinks from the cooler. There is no messing around down here! Now Henry and I have been desperate to taste moose since we were here last year. Moose hunting is strictly controlled, and you can't buy it. You have to either shoot one yourself having had a license in the local lottery, or been given some by someone that has. The meat is much leaner than beef, and we had heard so much about it. Well, we were not disappointed! Utterly delicious.... for those of us who like meat that is.... I was going to need help out of my waders!

After lunch we fished one more pool before heading back to Country Haven for the afternoon session. Jeremy was waiting for us, and after saying goodbye to Axel who was heading home we went off to Brophy's pool on the main river. I know I keep saying this, but this pool was absolutely stunning. The main river splits around an island here, and with the help of a small old style canoe Jeremy punted us across to the island. John and Pat Brophy were brothers who were both guides, and John guided on the Miramichi for over fifty years... yet more history to soak up. As I fished down the pool fish moved here and there betraying their presence, but yet again I failed to tempt a hook up. This was mostly accompanied by comments from Henry about a rubbish fisherman etc... I was kind of used to this by now...

Salmon fishing is salmon fishing, but for me as the sun went down and I threw my last cast hoping to feel that shoulder jarring take I felt like I had really experienced something truly special. The Miramichi has a timeline and history all of its own completely independent of European salmon fishing stigma. Time to head home.....

Miramichi, Cains River and Little Sevogle River

2008-09-11T22:55:00.001+01:00

As I have mentioned before the Miramichi system is vast. There are essentially seven primary tributaries, and each one would take you years to learn and understand to the depth that the river guides here do. This is also discounting the Main Southwest Miramichi. On Sunday morning Axel Lerche , one of our partners at Salar Enterprises, arrived early to whisk Henry and I off to the Cains River. The Cains is one of the tributaries that has a reputation for its fall run. The mouth of the Cains is only a 15 minute drive from the lodge and not far from Blackville. A four wheel drive vehicle is absolutely essential as the access us up a logging road that heads of 70 Kilometres into the Bush.

With Axel at the wheel we arrived in short order at Valentine Pool, and understood why everyone in New Brunswick drives around in a huge truck! The Cains is a beautiful little river, much smaller and more intimate than the main river and very much reminded me of many Scottish rivers I have fished in the past. The water is darker and more tea coloured than the main river, and this has made the strain of salmon originating here darker in appearance than those of other tributaries. The weather was not great, and constant rain made fishing a little tough. After the heat we had experienced over the days before though it was a little bit of a relief to be able to wear a wading jacket.

I started in at the head of the pool with a large orange bomber, and within four casts a sprightly cock fish rolled up and took it like a trout in a chalkstream.... I am really getting into this dry fly fishing for salmon, it is just awesome! He scrapped about a bit, but I subdued him with the 8 weight fairly quickly. He did make it into the backing though with his first run, and pulled hard. We fished another couple of pools on the Cains, rolled a few fish and saw more, but neither Axel and I managed to hook another. The problem with dry fly fishing is you have to be very quick on the strike, and as the line moves across the current sometimes this is not possible.

After lunch at the lodge the rain eased off and we drove the 30 minutes from Country Haven Lodge to the Upper Oxbow Lodge on the Little Southwest River. We stopped briefly at George's Tackle shop, which is a little bit of Miramichi history. George used to tie flies for Ted Williams, and he still runs his shop out of a shed. As he is now over 80 it was great to chat to him. What a character, and boy did he have some stories!

On arrival at Upper Oxbow we met Debbie and Dale Norton the owners, and Brett Silliker the head guide. Upper Oxbow is another fabulous lodge over looking the Little Southwest River. It has some wonderful rustic log cabins, but also a fabulous modern lodge complete with hotel style rooms, downstairs pool room and bar and a beautiful pool right in front of the lodge. From the lodge they access mostly the Little South West River and also the Sevogle Rivers. It was here that Brett planned to take us.

After a few derogatory comments about Axel's Ford truck we piled into Brett's Chevy Suburban and headed off into the woods along the logging trails. After beating our way through some thick undergrowth and on roads that only a truck like Brett's could get to (and obviously not Axel's Ford!) we arrived on the banks of the Little Sevogle. This river could not be further in character from the Main Southwest Miramichi. It is much smaller, easily fished with a single hander and runs through some staggering scenery and gorges. The first thing we did was peer off the edge of the cliff into the water and spot the salmon lying below. Always encouraging to see the fish before you start!

I clambered down the rocks and fished my way through the canyon, but could not make one of these fish move on Bomber, Green Machine and eventually a riffled hitch tube fly. Some time I hate salmon... Axel did roll another on a bomber a little above, but also failed to connect... tough day in the office. What an incredible place to fish though!

Miramichi River, Main Southwest River

2008-09-10T14:45:00.001+01:00

While staying at Country Haven Lodge Henry and I were joined by James and Jonathan Paterson who drove up from New York to fish with us. James and Jonathan have fished all over the world with me, and I was looking forward to spending some time with them on the river bank,along with the harsh banter and ribbing that would take place as well! Jonathan had caught a lovely fish on arrival of about 22 lbs on a bomber, and risen another on the dry fly as well. James and Jonathan also chose to fish with their 14' 9# rods and actually found it remarkable easy to cast the bombers on them, so it just goes to show.

We left the lodge that morning by boat from directly in front of the lodge with Jeremy and Ken Vickers who would be our guides for the day. Jeremy and Ken are third generation guides on the river and have spent their whole lives fishing it, guiding on it, hunting on it and leading the life of a riverman. After a short run of maybe 15 minutes or so we arrived at Crawford pool, a lovely run that we would fish from both sides. On arrival fish were moving everywhere, and at one point I counted four jumping within 30 seconds. Needless to say that does not mean you are going to catch one, but it does mean there are fish in the pool in greater numbers meaning your chances of hooking a taking fish are very much increased. Today I followed the Patersons' example and fished with a two handed 14' 9# rod.

On the second run down James hooked a lively grilse of about 5 lbs that was particularly acrobatic on the dry fly, so honour was restored and Jonathan could not give him quite as much grief as before. Some fish had been jumping just above the rapids that we had been fishing below, and being the adventurous sort of character that I am.... ahem.... I decided to put a wet fly on and wade above and see what I could tempt. On the third cast I hooked a good fish that attacked the small green butt Black Bear as it came careering across the V of the pool above... but needless to say I failed to hang onto it. After the deep disappointment and the obvious vocal sympathies and abuse of those I were fishing with it was time to head back to the lodge for some fantastic home cooking.

Normally in the afternoon everyone takes a break, has a sleep or relaxes before going out again at about 4 pm. However all of us had developed a serious taste for the Canadian Coffee know as Tim Horton's. Henry had been mentally drinking their French Vanilla Cappuchino all morning, so as we were intending to visit the Miramichi Salmon Museum and Doak's Fishing Tackle in Doaktown we made a little expedition to appease the craving. I know it sounds daft, but it really is that good!

For the evening session we split up again, and Henry and I headed off to Shelley's pool with Jeremy. This time I insisted that Jeremy fish as well to increase our chances, and as anyone knows the best way to learn is to watch the guide fish his home water as they invariably catch something. This was to be no exception. Shelley's is a little further up river than Ted William's pool, but below the Orr pool. Having walked down the bank we were again greeted with a simply stunning piece of fly water. A lovely glassy stretch punctuated by some delicious looking riffles created by nicely space boulders producing some lovely lies. There was hardly a breath of wind and the evening was warm and calm. As I fished down Jeremy came in behind me and began fishing. He was throwing a long line at 45 degrees, but fishing with a small brown Bomber. The fly would fish for a couple of feet on the dead drift before he would pick it up, move down and recast all in the same movement. After no more than 10 casts there was a bulge out in the current, the rod shot up in the air as he struck, and the fish launched itself into the air. A lovely grilse of again about 5 lbs. He was quite dark and beginning to develop a kype, or "Hook Bill" as they call it over there.

I started fishing again, and fish were showing across the pool including a fish of 25 - 30lbs that tried to jump but could not lift its vast bulk out of the water and end up waking like a submarine. I persisted with the Bomber as I REALLY wanted to catch a fish on dry. It may not be as successful as wetfly, but it is incredibly exciting. Jeremy hooked another fish, a little large this time so I went down and played net man for him. At least Henry had something to take some piccies off as I was failing to produce the goods! Another fascinating day on this huge watershed, and time to head home for dinner. Barbecued steak tonight...

The Miramichi, New Brunswick, Canada

2008-09-07T19:25:00.001+01:00

The Miramichi is one of the largest Atlantic Salmon fishing systems in the world with huge numbers running the river. Henry and I left very early from Salmon Lodge on the Grand Cascepedia and drove the four hours south from Gaspe back down to Country Haven Lodge in New Brunswick. Country Haven is operated by Byron Coughlan and is located in Gray Rapids near Blackville on the South West Miramichi. From here his clients have access to huge areas of the Miramichi system. Much of the Miramichi is privately owned, and Byron owns 11 private pools, leases a few more and has access to some 25 in total throughout the system and on the tributaries. The main river itself although large is not daunting, and many of the tributaries such as the Cains, Renous, Little Southwest and Sevogle are a lovely size to fish. The Cains especially reminded me of some rivers I have fished in Scotland.

Although you can fish a standard 14' two handed rod and traditional methods the Miramichi is also world renown for dry fly fishing. It has the highest temperature of any Atlantic salmon river in the world and fish will regularly take in much higher water temperatures. This makes the fish very aggressive in hitting surface flies, and on the Miramichi the Bomber is king. Many of the locals fish with nothing else. They also tend to use a single handed rod, and this is certainly easier when dry fly fishing as it allows better line management and delicate presentation for fishing drys. The idea is to work down stream scatter casting as you go, and the key is to have no drag on the fly. This requires a lot of casting and at different lengths of line. Effectively the further you can cast the more water you can cover.

On arrival we were met by Byron Coughlan, the owner, and Axel Lerche. Axel emigrated from Germany and is one of the most enthusiastic fishermen I have had the privilege to work with. He is one of the directors of Salar enterprises, but more of that later. First, there was fishing to be done! We headed out immediately to a private pool called the Orr pool. Axel and I both fished for a few hours before lunch, and during this time Axel filled me in on some of the history of the surrounding area and the river itself. He also tutored me further on fishing the bomber on a larger river, and various tried and tested techniques that have proved successful here. The weather was bright, and even though we saw a number of fish nothing decided to latch on.

After lunch Axel had to head back to Bathurst for some meetings, so Henry and I fished with Pete Randall in the afternoon. Although Pete is semi retired now, it was a joy to fish with someone who has spent so much time on the river. Our destination, the fabled Ted William's Pool on the Main Southwest Miramichi. Ted William was a famous baseball player back in the day for the Boston Red Sox. Having fished the Miramichi he fell in love with it, bought a camp and spent many months fishing here. Pete Randall lives on the other side of the pool, so every morning he has his breakfast reading the water and watching the salmon as they moved on their journey up the system. To say he knew this pool well was an understatement...

The pool is idyllic, with lovely glassy water rolling over various large boulders creating obvious lies. I should clarify what these pools are like on the Miramichi, as many of them are sometimes 200 - 400 yards long, so there is plenty of fishing. To fish down it once takes at least an hour, so fishing down with a couple of patterns can take a big chunk of time, and a fish could hit at any time. The pool was positively boiling with salmon, and many were rolling and showing while I fished, constantly keeping me on edge. A fisherman on the other side hooked a lovely fish on a bomber, and I could see the take from where I had been sitting. Memorable.

I fished down with a bomber first, and had one roll on the fly but I was too late with the strike to set the hook properly. I then went down with a Green Machine (a very popular wet fly here) and lastly I fished down with a single wet fly called a Red Butt Black Bear on a size 8. As I drew down the last rock and was loosing the light completely the line stopped and slowly tightened. I lifted the rod and felt the thump, thump of a large salmon attached to me. My heart was in my mouth that finally I had hooked one, but before I had a chance to wind in the slack we parted company from one another. Arrrrgggggh! In retrospect I found out what I should have done was to strike the fish.... hard. In the slow water the take had been very light and I should have set the hook. Ah well, that's fishing! Time to head for home....

Fishing the Hitch

2008-09-06T10:59:00.000+01:00

Again the morning greeted us with clear blue sky's and warmth of sun. A beautiful day, but perhaps not the best for salmon fishing. Our guide today was Bruno Lepage and he quickly took us off to our beat for the day, ASPB. After 15 minutes of bumping down the old logging roads the pool we would be starting with opened up below us. If someone had an opportunity to make a perfect salmon pool then this would have been it. From the neck to the tail the pool was about 300 yards in length, and again due to the crystal clear water many fish could be seen.

I fished down the pool and then up a number of times with the bomber, but failed to raise a fish. The blessing of fishing a river that is crystal clear is that you can see the fish you are covering. I have not discovered yet is if that is a blessing or a curse! As nothing had moved I switched to the two handed rod, a 13' 8# Hardy Angel and a Rio Power Spey line. Fly choice, time to use the hitched tube again....

The fly began to skate nicely across the ledges and almost immediately a fish moved up and hit it, but cam slightly short. I backed up a few yards, gave it a couple of minutes, and then put another relatively long cast. The fly popped up on the surface and came across like a little motor boat. There was a bulge and the line went tight, and as the salmon thrashed in the clear water it almost looked like it was floating in air.... and promptly came out of the water. The silver bar of maybe 10 pounds or so slewed across the pool before erupting into the air again... the line went slack, and fish and I parted company.... Henry gesticulated wildly at me and called me a muppet, being his usual supportive self.

As it was lunch time the trio moved up to another pool little higher up the beat. There was a covered picnic table on the bank, and Bruno began to lay out lunch. I have to say that lunch on the river at Camp Bonaventure is one of the best I have had. The guides lay out an incredible spread, and this plus a glass of wine has one feeling a little sleepy. However, there was work to be done. Unfortunately the wind got up in the afternoon making casting tricky, and the air temperature began to fall. The fish hugged the bottom, and very little action was seen in the afternoon. I raised one more fish on the bomber, but I failed to hook it and we headed home feeling a little battered and sore.

On arrival back at the lodge and having thanked Bruno we threw all the gear in the back of the truck and headed down the road as we were staying that night at Salmon Lodge on the Grand Cascapedia. Salmon Lodge is very different to Camp bonaventure as it is a one hundred year old lodge that overlooks the Grand Cascepedia River. The river itself is bigger than the Bonaventure, but not quite as clear. It has a slightly tea coloured tinge, but tends to have larger fish but maybe not quite as many. On arrival Henry and I were blown away with the view up the valley, and also the wonderful feel. It was somehow more intimate and full of old fishing memorabilia. Dinner was outstanding, and the staff could not have been kinder. Guest staying here fish both the Bonaventure and the Grand Cascepedia, and the beats are moved around. It is perfect for a smaller intact party or those who are looking for a lodge with tradition and character.

Atlantic salmon on the dry fly.

2008-09-04T11:36:00.000+01:00

As usual the best laid plans always go aside, and a combination of jet lag and excitement found us both bouncing around at four in the morning thinking of the day ahead.... and then we found out that we had actually driven across a timeline last night and it was in fact three in the morning.. oh joy! Luckily we discovered how the coffee machine worked.

After a solid breakfast we headed out with our guide Jean-Marc Poirier. B3 beat was to be ours for the day. After a half an hour ride and a quick wander through the woods the sight that met us was stunning. The river winds its way through the trees and is absolutely crystal clear. What makes this river truly unique is the ability to catch Atlantic Salmon on dry fly. On inspection the first pool was holding somewhere in the region of 200 fish. How do I know? Because I could see each and every one of them... Jean-Marc explained the technique to me, and essentially we would be fishing dry flies, or giant Bombers to be exact, on the dead drift. My weapon of choice, an new Hardy Demon 9' 6# rod with matching demon reel and a floating line.. against fishing in the pool that were in excess of 30 lbs. This was going to be fun!

The early morning was a little grey and chilly, so the fish were hugging the bottom closely. I began at the bottom of the pool under Jean-Marc's tutelage, covering the area from in a small window in front of me directly across the stream. When Bomber fishing it is best not to cast directly upstream as you line too many fish, so the fly should land a foot in front of the fish. If there is no reaction after a couple of casts, then move up the pool slowly to the next. It took me a little while to master this as my immediate reaction was to start casting too far upstream.

I made one cast that alighted over the a pod of fish, and as usual I was thinking they would not react when suddenly a large fish of maybe mid twenties turned around and chased the bomber downstream trying to inhale the fly. A big swirl, a splash and no tightening as the fish had missed the fly.... or was that because I squealed like a girl and pulled the fly out of its mouth? Not sure, but it was incredibly exciting and the adrenalin was overcoming the sleep deprivation nicely!

I switched down a size from the small chicken on the end, and immediately a small grilse came and hit it like a rising trout on a chalkstream, and my first fishing on the Bonaventure river came to hand. Not a monster, but nevertheless a fish! I moved a few more fish but did not manage to hook any others, but by now the sun was breaking through the clouds and the air temperature was rising. I did try a down stream wet fly, but this was met with no reaction from the fish at all, and having seen the whole thing take place with a surface fly I really wanted to persist as it is breathtakingly exciting.

Jean-Marc produced the lunch cooler and as we sat eating hot chili cooked on the back while sipping a little red wine he explained further the theory behind their winning technique here. The pool must be fished systematically to find a fish that will rise. The size of fly is also important as the larger flies will often get them going to make them hit a smaller fly immediately afterwards. I fished the next pool down after lunch, and although again I had several fish come and look at the fly, one actually trying to eat it which I again with precise precision managed to extract the fly from its jaws at the right moment. Time flew by, and before I knew it tea time was approaching.

Our little group them moved down to a pool called Eleanor that due to it being a little way down the bank did not receive much pressure. Jean-Marc had been down earlier,and using his periscope had actually seen 20 or so fish in the pool. Very cool. The visual aspect of this fishing is staggering. First cast was met with a big swirl. Second cast saw a fish rise of the bottom and bulge under the fly. Third cast, a little further out, and I watched the fish move up in the water column, open its mouth, engulf the fly and descend as I set the hook. Trout fishing... for salmon!.... with a 6 weight. I nice little grilse of 5lbs or so. I immediately lost another at the hand.

As the sun came off the pool I switched to a hitched tube the skated nicely across the water. It was attacked immediately by a nice little salmon that gave me quite a battle on the 6 weight. The pool came alive, and nearly every cast was being met by some kind of reaction. The finale to the session was a large 20 - 30lb cock salmon that proceeded to attack the fly four times accompanied by ooohhss and aaahs from the bank. At this point I reeled up and we headed for home. I had experienced surface fishing for salmon like never before, and quite a baptism of fire. Can't wait for tomorrow!

Atlantic Salmon Fishing on Gaspé in Canada

2008-09-04T11:35:00.001+01:00

Well, Henry Gilbey and I are once again on our autumn travels in an effort to find some new and exciting Atlantic salmon fishing for our clients. This seems to be becoming a regular event. After our trip to the Gaspé peninsular on the East Coast of Canada last year we had to return to experience more of this unique fishery. The allure of crystal clear rivers and large salmon has kept us going.

This year rather than fly through Montreal, wait for a while and then head up to Gaspé we took the new Canadian Affair flight that comes directly from Gatwick to Fredericton in New Brunswick via Halifax. The flight was really pretty good as it is six hours to Halifax and then a further thirty minutes on to Fredericton. The main reason for doing it this way is that after fishing on Gaspe we are moving on to the Miramichi in New Brunswick, so it made sense to be hire a car from there and do the long drive first.

A six hour drive moved us up along the Miramichi system, up to Bathurst and Campbellton, past the Restigouche river system and then up into Gaspé where immediately everything reverts back to French speaking. Henry and I just about managed to negotiate petrol and some directions with our school boy French. Finally we arrived at the Camp Bonaventure Lodge on the banks of the Bonaventure River. The lodge is relatively new, built in 1995 and very comfortable. After a brief orientation we hit the hay in an attempt to be fresh for the following day.

New Online Fishing Photo & Video Magazine

2008-09-03T10:54:00.001+01:00

Many of us of the years have been somewhat in awe of one Mr Brian O'Keefe and his incredible photographs that have had certainly me dribbling about fishing. Well, Brian has launched a new online magazine concentrating on incredible photography and video in the fishing arena,and I would heartily suggest you take a look:

http://www.catchmagazine.net/

Our very own Henry Gilbey has also been asked to contribute amoungst other well known characters and has provided some fantastic shots for this kick off issue. Subscription is free and it will be sent out the first day of every odd numbered month. Enjoy!

Game Fair 2008

2008-09-01T12:26:00.001+01:00

We looked forward to this years Game Fair with huge anticipation. After the cancellation of last years fair and this being the Game Fair’s 50th anniversary we knew it was going to be big, but nothing prepared us for our arrival on the Thursday. The show was considerably larger than the 2005 Game Fair at Romsey, and believe that the organisers clocked a massive 150,000 people through the gates on the opening Friday!

We were lucky enough to be joined by Chris Yrazabal from Los Roques and Páll Þór Ármann from Iceland this year, and their help was greatly appreciated. Having their added expertise with us and the opportunity for those going to Los Roques or Iceland to pick their brains was fantastic. As these two operations are pretty hot property right now it generated a lot of interest, especially our new fishing on the Upper Laxa I Adaldal in Iceland that has been likened by some as the finest trout fishing in the Northern Hemisphere.

Thank you so much to all those of you who made the effort to come and find us and chat face to face. We love putting faces to names and the opportunity to discuss this year’s trips, see the pictures, and begin planning for next season.

The weather was incredible… almost too good, and by Sunday I think most of us felt that we were melting. Chris was obviously in his element being used to the 30 degree heat!

Once again we found ourselves next to the Latin American Fishing Company who we work closely with on a number of South American projects, so we really enjoyed catching up with them, especially as Gordon Richmond had been on a couple of trips with us recently.

Sea Trout fishing on the Test

2008-07-06T08:39:00.001+01:00

The other night I was lucky enough to be invited to fish the Testwood Pool on the lower Test for sea trout by Alistair Robjent of Robjents Tackle in Stockbridge. For those of you who, like me, were unaware of the migratory fishing on the Test, our most famous chalkstream actually has an increasingly larger run of salmon and sea trout every year. Alistair has been fishing the lower Test for sea trout and salmon for approximately 10 years now and knows the beat intimately, so I felt really privileged to be asked.

This is typical night time fishing which I have always found extremely exciting, and requires co ordination and stealth.... so no doubt I was going to find this quite challenging! I have also not done any slithering around in the dark since my days as a guide in Norway many years ago. There I would often spend the early hours wandering around the river blank hitting the spots I knew held these timid fish. Normally when participating in sea trout fishing of this nature one would turn up at mid day or so and scout out the river and the lies so that you would have a much better idea of the topography of the river bed, and where the likely taking spots would be. It is also your opportunity to figure out where you can cast and where you can't.

I would also recommend using tackle that you are very familiar with as everything becomes much more complicated in the dark. Well, that was not to be the case here, and we arrived on the river at about 2230... in the dark. Nothing like a challenge! So, night time drills applied here as sea trout will spook easily, even at night. It is important to keep well back from the bank, and if a torch must be used to change fly then make sure that you hold it in your mouth and point away from the river. You will have to forgive the photography as trying to take pictures in the pitch black is challenging!

For this little excursion I was using a 9'8" 7# Loomis matched with a mastery stillwater clear intermediate line on and old Hardy Ultralite Disc, 15 lbs flourocarbon and the weapon of choice down here is a snake fly of Alistair's own concoction. The extra length of rod is useful with the sharp banks and mending the line over undergrowth. The fly is tied on a single size 6 with a long silver mylar body that extends well past the shank of the hook and terminates in a wicked little flying treble. The wing is long and black extending right past the treble, and there is a small orange hackle tied in at the throat.

Alistair and Kirsty showed me the lie of the land and while Kirsty moved further down to one of her favourite spots Alistair kindly ghillied for me and directed me towards a nice little run known as "Lower Pipes". It was a bit if tricky back cast up against the trees, and as I was suing a clear line as well it was pretty tricky to gauge the distance. Eventually I found by using the thickness of the belly I could distinguish roughly how far I was casting under the trees on the following bank. The fly swung round in a fast arc and suddenly, bang! The fish hit the fly like a small jet propelled rocket, and immediately turned and made off down stream with the tip of the rod bucking wildly against the drag. I think to begin with I probably to much pressure on him and brought him up the fish up the surface. We could see the silver flank flashing in the moonlight and I found the sleep that had been trying to invade my eyelids was very quickly beaten back by a rush of adrenalin. After a reprimand from Alistair I back off the pressure a little, and after a couple of admonishing comments such as "you saltwater oik, stop hammering the fish or the fly will pull out" the fish swam freely at its own pace.

This was the fun part, for at Testwood there is a very steep dropping bank down to the water, and it was necessary to lead the flashing fish up the river a little to Alistair's waiting net. It is important not to get over excited at this point as a quick swipe with the net is very likely to know the fish off, especially with that fly treble that can easily get stuck in the net and create leverage for the fish to pull free. Luckily for me my expert ghillie waited patiently as I guided the little bar of silver over the waiting net and Alistair drew him up and away from the river. Ha Ha! My first English sea trout! An extremely good way to begin the evening. It was a lovely fish of 3 1/2 lbs, and gave me a good scrap.

It was now pitch black, and as we fished on in the darkness I could here the odd splash of a fish out there that only made the blood pulse that bit more, every cast waiting for the tug in the hand. Every so often the silence was punctuated by the screech of a hunting barn owl, or the whir of bats wings over head. Unfortunately for us that night there was a quantity of weed coming down the river which often resulted in the proverbial "weed fish" excitement, but turned out to be a disappointment. Kirtsy hooked a nice fish between 0100 and 0200, but sadly they parted company in the night. At this point the temperature did a nose dive and the activity dropped off... and so was I. I put aside my rod and followed Alistair down the bank to a favourite lie of his just above the road bridge. Fishing finished at 0300, so it was time of a last ditch effort. Alistair had explained that this stretch had a lovely shallow on the far side that sloped into a trough under the near bank covered by an overhanging tree. I cast down stream and a 60 degree angle allowing the fly to fish immediately and we both held our breath as the fly came round into the trough.

Sure enough, a fish hit the fly and wrenched line out of his hand immediately before trying to run downstream under the bridge. At the last minute Alistair calmly walked up the bank and the fish followed away from the obstacle, and again I caught that flash of liquid silver in the dark as it rolled. After a few more runs the fish rolled over and I was able to gently slide the net under and bring it to sure. A beautiful 5 lber, still with lice on its flank. There is something truly magical about being out on a river at night. The sounds and smells all around are something that we rarely experience tucked up in bed, and would encourage you to try it. As we turned and headed for the hut the soft glow of dawn could be seen sneaking up through the trees. Time to head home and grab a few hours shut eye.

Henry Gilbey & Nick Hart go to the American West

2008-06-18T18:03:00.000+01:00

Henry Gilbey and Nick Hart have just arrived in Montana where they are fishing from Yellowstone Valley Ranch. Currently amidst some of the most incredible scenery on the planet amidst the elk and bison, they are find out what the fabled American trout fishing is like. I know there first day has been greeted with very high water conditions after an extremely late snow melt this year I am hoping they will get amongst the fish tomorrow.

The American West has for many years been the home of serious trout fishing, and it will be very interesting to see their opinion on how it compares to our trout fishing here in the UK. They are also testing some of the new Hardy equipment, so I will also be interested to see how it stands up.

Yellowstone Valley Ranch is one of our principal operations in Montana and offers fantastic trout fishing alongside fine accommodation. It is also a lodge totally suited to families as there are a huge variety of activities that can be organised from rafting and kayaking to horse trekking.

If you would be interested in following their progress as they careen across Yellowstone National Park then please keep an eye on Henry's Blog and Nick's Blog

Ladies Day with Upstream Dry Fly

2008-05-30T16:08:00.000+01:00

Anna Taylor, who recently joined Aardvark McLeod on the PR and marketing side, made us aware that her husband Howard Taylor, from Upstream Dry Fly, was organising a ladies tuition day at a private lake in the Test valley. She asked if Charlotte and I might like to attend, and we of course thought this was an excellent idea and jumped at the opportunity. I have normally found that women are better students than men. They are much better at taking instruction and advice (except if you are teaching your own spouse!) and tend to really want to succeed. They normally exhibit more patience and better timing as they tend not to compensate their casting with strength.

So on Sunday the 18th May we convened at the Peat Spade Inn outside Stockbridge at the appointed time for morning coffee. After the miserable day previously we were met with glorious sunshine and looked forward to the day ahead. Approximately 25 ladies arrived, and after a brief orientation as to the day’s timetable by Howard we left in Convoy for the lake. Howard was joined by Brett O’Connor and a couple of other instructors. Howard is a member of the Hardy Greys Academy, and all the equipment needed was provided by Hardy Greys, as well as of a couple of their female instructors from Alnwick.

Once on the lake we busied ourselves tackling up 25 rods, and at this stage wool was tied to the end of the line to prevent anyone hooking themselves immediately. Brett then gave an excellent demonstration on the basics of fly casting and everyone went away to practice. I tried to be helpful by offering advice and demonstrations, finding the principal faults were too much wrist, as often is the case. Many also extend the arm too much instead of allowing the rod to do the work. However, after a short time everyone was getting along nicely and we did not spend too much time running back into the undergrowth untying leaders in trees.

Brett then moved on to demonstrating the roll cast before moving into the back cast, and after these basic two casts had been mastered flies were produced and the students began to actually fish. I am proud to say that the first person to hook a fish was Charlotte who hooked and landed two in fairly quick succession. Even though she has been dispatched to catch sail fish on the fly in Guatemala and caught bonefish in Belize these were the first ever trout that she had caught. It was also an opportunity for her to christen her new trout outfit, a Greys Greyflex 9’ 5/6# with matching reel. It has a lovely smooth action making it ideal for those starting to trout fish.

As the afternoon wore on the fish began to rise freely to emergers and any terrestrials that happened across the lake. At this point a few Mayfly began to hatch against the trees and wafted down across the surface making the trout go mental. As I wandered round the corner of the lake to where a small stream entered and created a current I found Sarah Fitzpatrick from the Field Magazine casting across it when a large brown trout came up and nailed a Mayfly off the surface. We both stared at it for a minute before I rushed up and asked her what fly she was using. The small Montana was quickly replaced by an up wing Mayfly from my box doused in Gink to keep it afloat.

“Are we going to catch that fish?” she asked. “Absolutely” I replied full of confidence. The small stream created an excellent flow in the lake, and a number of fish were taking Mayfly being swirled down the current before it petered out into still water again. Sarah had never caught a trout either. She cast the fly accurately, but not quite far enough. “further out and a little higher in the current...” I added helpfully. After several more casts the fly swung round in the current and a good sized rainbow slowly rose to the surface, opened its mouth and engulfed the fly before continuing its roll to the depths again. “Strike!” I yelled, the line went tight and the fish was on.. It immediately jumped producing squeaks of excitement from Sarah before Brett came pounding along the bank with a net.

Now, this fish really did not want to come in. I showed Sarah the concept of side strain, and each time the fish would move in one direction she would apply pressure in the opposite way. As this was her first fish both Brett and I were working hard to ensure she did not lose it! Eventually after a nail biting fight she moved backwards from the bank and slipped the fish over the waiting net.. Great! Her first trout, and on a dry Mayfly! Excellent! Then it was back to the Peat Spade for a fabulous late lunch. It was a really great day, and I hope something that Howard will repeat. For too long ladies have been left on the bank so to speak, and most women I know who have started and carried on with fishing tend to put other fishermen to shame.

Giant permit caught at the Isle of Youth, Cuba

2008-05-30T12:41:00.000+01:00

Richard Ward recently returned from a two week trip in Cuba with Jack Simpson, and beat his personal best with a Grand Slam featuring a permit estimated at 36 lbs! Richard has been to Cuba many times and this particular adventure began at the end of April. Along with many other members of Jack’s group Richard booked La Tortuga in the Jardines de la Reina for the first week followed by a second week at the Hotel El Rancho on the Isle of Youth.

The first week at Jardines de la Reina required early starts to get amongst the rolling tarpon. Although the week was not as productive as some in past years, there were numerous migratory tarpon located outside the reef during the day daisy chaining and engaged in spawning rituals. A number of these would come into the shallower water to keep fishermen alert and Richard managed to boat tarpon every day to about 90 lbs.

As the second week at the Isle of Youth progressed it was evident that the fishing was improving. All members of the party landed fish in the 70 – 90 lbs category. On the 4th May Richard had hooked nine tarpon and landed seven before stopping for lunch. Lady luck was smiling down on him as it is normal to hook many more than you manage to bring alongside the boat. All these fish were in the same size bracket as previously , and all caught on the flats on either floating or intermediate lines – classic tarpon fishing.

After lunch Richard and his guide Coki decided to go in search of permit, the fish that we all find most frustrating. While polling along the coral drop offs they eventually came across a group of six permit slowly cruising high in the water column. These fish were big, and Richard began to sweat. He made some casts to no avail, and despite changing flies and densities of lines he could not induce any interest. During one of these drifts down the edge, two fish of immense size made an appearance that Coki (who has caught more permit than anyone in Cuba) estimated at near 50lbs. After perusing through the fly box and trying every combination Coki voiced that the tide was wrong for these fish, and if they headed back to the same spot the following morning on the correct stage of the tide they would have a better chance.

The following morning they were out early, and there were tarpon rolling freely. Seeing a tarpon roll approximately 35 yards away Richard cast an “Orange Dillon” on an intercept course. Having allowed the fly to sink a little one slow strip later the fish slowly moved up and engulfed the fly. He set the hook as it turned away and all hell broke loose as it put holes in the ocean. He gave it some stick and after a hard fight they released a Tarpon of about 60lbs. Quickly afterwards he cast at and hooked another fish of about 70 lbs on a shallow flat of between five and nine feet in depth. The “Black Death” had been responsible for the take in this instance, and after a battle of twenty minutes or so this fish was also carefully released. A good beginning to the morning!

At this point Coki announced that the tide and wind were now correct for permit and the pair headed back to the same area they had encountered the monsters the day before. Coki began to poll the boat along the edge and having found a pair of disinterested fish found a further group of six. Coki had advised to switch to a floating crab, and while changing the fly Richard listen to his instructions on how to present the fly. Th line sung out through the rings and he managed to present the fly to within three feet of the lead fish. It instantly reacted, but before the fish could take the fly an even larger permit charged it out of the way and nailed the crab. A firm strip strike followed by a further three when he managed to get it on the reel and the fight commenced. For over an hour the fish made blistering runs, some for deep water, others for coral heads. The permit picked up weed on the line and tested his gear to the absolute limit. Even as he shorted his line and applied maximum side strain to pull the fish towards the waiting hands of Coki he still did not quite realise how large it was. Coki caught hold of the fish with a strong hand, and immediately began to jabber about this being the largest permit landed in Cuba on the fly. What a fish! After some quick photos the fish was carefully revived and released.

Right, tarpon and permit achieved, only the bonefish needed for a Grand Slam! Richard changed to his bonefish rod and further up the flat in the shallower water was a single bonefish. Casting a small crab pattern at the fish Richard gave the fly two small strips and the bonefish turned and immediately hovered up his offering. A couple of strip strikes had it headed for the horizon in an attempt to relieve him of all of his backing. After two more long runs well into the back they he had the fish to hand. A cracking fish of about 5 ½ lbs and the perfect way to finish the Grand Slam. This was Richard’s seventh Grand Slam in Cuba, but one he will always remember! He did spend the remaining the 2 ½ hours looking for a snook in a world class snook fishery to complete the Super Grand Slam, but to no avail... well, that’s fishing!

A quick flick in Norway

2008-05-07T13:02:00.000+01:00

This weekend I have hopped over to Norway for a family function with my wife. The first question everyone asks is are you going fishing? Well, that all depends on what I can get away with! It is too early for the salmon, but by all reports from friends here the snow fall looks set for a good season. However, there is so many more places to cast a fly in this country than just the salmon rivers.

My brother in law, Kenneth Erdal, came to my rescue by turning up with a car load of gear and said “Good to see you! Let’s go fishing!” That first evening we popped down to a lake literally just down the road from Lindäs. (Lindäs is about 45 minutes outside Bergen where my parents in law live.) We greeted by the sight of rings of rising trout all over the place. The warming sun was slowly slipping down the sky as we cast in vain at the persistent wild trout, but unfortunately could not match the hatch. I think they were taking a very small midge off the surface, and we had nothing small enough to imitate them. Never mind, it was a perfect way to spend a few pleasant hours casting a fly, having a quiet beer, and just enjoying being in such a beautiful place. As the sun slipped below the mountains the temperature dropped sharply, the hatch finished, the rings became infrequent and we headed home.

This morning Kenneth suggested a little expedition to find a sea trout. Again, there are more areas to find sea trout than just the rivers. We drove north, caught a ferry and made our way down to a stunning small fjord that has a river flowing into the entrance. It’s location shall remain a secret... It turns out that the fjord around the entrance has a great head of sea trout that cruise around the margins until the tide turns and they can run the river. As they are still in the sea they feed aggressively.. or so we hoped! Kenneth hit one quite quickly, to my surprise, and I had a couple of knocks on a black woolly bugger. We did not fish for more than a couple of hours, but the tide was pushing out fast so we were there at the wrong time.

Even though this is a bit of a pathetic tale of woe in that we did not catch much, it goes to show that if you think outside the box sometimes you can find some good fishing. I think the next time I come over I will bring my float tube as that will certainly expand my ability to fish locally. Even though it was not too productive I have still managed to scratch my itch!

East Anglian CLA Game Fair

2008-04-29T10:20:00.000+01:00

Last Friday we headed up to Norfolk to exhibit at the East Anglian CLA Game Fair. the show was located at the Norfolk showground just outside Norwich, and is ideal as it is a permanent show ground. This is a relatively new show which has been running for about five years and is growing year on year, so we thought it might be a good chance to meet some of the East Anglian fishing fraternity. I grew up in Norfolk so I really enjoyed bumping into many familiar faces and many new ones.

Although shows are hard work I find them immensely rewarding as I have the opportunity to meet people face to face and show them some of our destinations first hand. I also love meeting our existing clients so that we can both put faces to names. I personally find it much easier to talk to someone who I have met rather than a disembodied voice over the phone! Funnily enough most of those that came to see us were interested in saltwater fishing, especially the outer islands in the Seychelles. That 50lbs GT shot grabs more people as they walk by than any other.

Charles Jardine was doing his usual crowd pleasing demonstrations, and it never ceases to amaze me how he manages to pull in a crowd, and often of people who don't fish. It was great to catch up with him as I had not seen him in a little while. I would really like to take this opportunity to thank all those that came to see us, and for your continued support.

What do you do with your kit when you get home?

2008-04-22T21:24:00.000+01:00

So, you have just had the most awesome trip, and you have caught stacks of fish. You are flying out tomorrow morning early, and you have got to pack all the kit you brought with you back into the space you brought it out in. The worst part of the trip.

The one thing I have learnt over the years is that throwing all your gear in your bag, wet, perhaps salty with the thought in your head that you are going to sort it out when you get back is a really bad idea. It never happens. When you finally get home and you are knackered the last thing you feel like doing is to get it all out again, clean it all, and then put it away. The best thing to do is to clean as much as you can on site before you fly. A nice shower does the job perfectly.

As I pack up my clothes I put all my gear in the shower while to soak in freshwater, and then lay it all out on a towel on the bed. Make sure you keep similar rods separate as it is very difficult to see the difference between and 8 weight and a 9 weight. I wipe all rods with a wet cloth including the rings to remove grime or salt, leave it to drip dry, and then dry them down. Leave them to dry as long as you can so the cork can dry. NEVER put rods away wet as the cork will rot, and the damp can get under the varnish and make it bubble off the blank. Also make sure the cloth bags that they are going back into are dry.

While I am doing this I fill up the sink and having loosened off all the drag drop the reels in and leave them to soak. Again, especially with saltwater, the salt gets right into the backing and can corrode the reel under it. If you have used the reel covers to cover the reels in the boat then make sure they are clean and dry as well. Then pull the reels out and let them dry on the towel as well. I also throw in the sink all the flies I have used, and any ironmongery such as forceps, leathermens and pliers. I also wash off spools of leader that have been drenched as they can get encrusted with salt, making them sticky for the future. I know this all sounds overly complicated, but once you have your system it takes very little time, and means the next time that you come to pull your gear out of the cupboard it is ready to go.

Finally, when you get home and are getting ready to put everything away throw the whole lot in the airing cupboard to dry it out completely. I have found mildew on my backing before, and this can make it break under strength. I also find the a little WD40 oil can go along way to preserving your ironmongery. It is also a moisture emulsifier, and will help protect them in the future. This may seem a little pedantic to some, but much of the equipment that we use these is VERY expensive, and simple steps like this can go a long way to prolonging their life.

Los Roques, Venezuela, Day 6

2008-04-21T22:26:00.000+01:00

As light slowly dawned on our last day the wind returned again, but not the grey clouds. By this stage in the week it takes everyone a little longer to get going in the morning and more coffee is consumed than usual. For those who have not yet found what they have been searching for such as a specimen bonefish, elusive permit or large jack the last day represents that last chance to achieve goals.

As usual the small fleet of boats disappeared into the depths of the national park. Kirsty and Alistair especially were on the track of some large fish as they had been a little unlucky in terms of numbers up to this point. This had really been as Kirsty had been fishing her heart out to catch her first bonefish all by herself with out any help, and had worked hard at it. Alistair in his efforts to make her dream reality had asked the guides through most of the week to concentrate their efforts on achieving this goal. Finally after some very hard work Kirsty triumphed producing an excellent bonefish of approximately 5 lbs stalked on the flats and cast for her all by herself. So after this Alistair was going to get stuck in. He proceeded to take 5 fish off the flats in fairly quick succession, most of them on the pancake flats which was no mean achievement in the wind.

While standing on the edge of the flat his guide Efren saw an approaching school of blue runner, and instructed Alistair to throw out a long line. "Further" he said. Alistair stripped more line of the reel, wound up his Loomis Crosscurrent and chucked it out in the direction of the school. He looked at Efren. "Further" came the reply. Alistair now pulled off a couple of handfuls of backing, and after a couple of fast hauls shot the lot out of the rings. Strip, strip, bang! He was attached to a good sized blue runner on his 8 weight and in for a battle! The fish strained against his line, and Alistair got a taste of how powerful these small Jack/ tuna cross fish are. After about a 15 minute fight he managed to land it. Kirsty topped this off with a couple of fine barracuda on the spin gear to finish off with.

Will and Jamie had headed off to Crasqui with with Jesus and fished the white sand beach up towards the beer shacks. The bones were really finicky in calm clear water but he managed to hook one after a frustrating first half hour of near misses. Unfortunately after all that effort it headed out into deeper water and was promptly consumed by a 20lb cuda! Very exciting stuff, but slightly irritating none the less. Jamie then stalked a good bone off the beach of about 3.5lb on minnows. Jesus then took them off to one of the lagoons to try their luck for some baby tarpon and snook, and also to evade the powerful winds. After an hour or so Will landed a good bone of about 4 lbs with a 15 yd up wind cast that for once went according to plan. The small band then took off into the back country and did about a mile through the bush to get to a nice beach and flats. Will fished one side of a spit while Jesus led Jamie down the other. After loosing another bonefish and landing one more Will then landed a nice little pompano. A tougher day than before, but still rewarding.

Rick's final day started out with so much promise. Fish were thick as thieves, and he had never seen a flat like the first one. Unfortunately his streak of luck/skill was waning... After a 30 minute wade with Cayito, they came upon the first group of bonefish and with his first cast hooked one... Sadly as it ran, it wrapped the line around a mangrove shoot and quickly popped the line... About two minutes later he hooked into another one and either had foul hooked it, or did not set the hook as well as he perhaps should have, after a brief fight, he was off. Not ten minutes later, he hooked into yet another bone, but a failure of the leader saw that one slip through his fingers. By this stage Rick was beginning to wonder if his luck had run out. However the intrepid pair then came upon the sweetest of honey pots. Rick managed to hook and land his first fish about 20 minutes later and from there, it was game on. He landed another two in quick succession, all good sized, between 3-5lbs. He remarked "the fish were as thick and friendly as any I had come across." The schools just kept coming in waves and this is despite the fact that there were many natural predators in the area (he saw two lemon sharks and a few sizable cuda). This brought his morning session to a total of five fish off that flat.

After a brief lunch it was back onto the flats. For the afternoon session locating the fish proved a little more difficult. After the run he had experienced with the flat in the morning he thought it was just fate balancing out the world. They went to three more flats and only managed to land one more fish for the afternoon. In the fading light, he came across some tailing fish just off the beach, but they expressed no interest in the gummy minnow that we were using. With that, we returned to the boat, pulled up anchor and made for home for a well deserved cold beer.

That evening I organised a casting competition for the guides on the dock. We each chipped in $10 making the total pot $100 to the winner of the longest cast. I always enjoy this as it gives the guides a chance to show us how it is done, and also the clients an opportunity to spike fun at the guides for giving them such a hard time during the week. To many taunts of "more to the left!" and "the fish is further our!" our winner was Howard, the dark sheep who came from now where to beat Raphael the favourite. After a few more beers and some good stories we said our goodbyes and thank yous to our friends, and turned out noses back towards the posada and our final supper at Acuarela. Most of us beat a reasonably hasty retreat to bed that night as we had a very early start the next morning. However, I discovered later that some members of the party had snuck out, discovered one of the guides who shall remain anonymous, headed to the nearest bar and consumed a massive amount of beer. Luckily the guide was not working for the next couple of days, but I laughed hugely in the morning when they we still nicely intoxicated.

Well, we are sad to be heading back to the world of civilisation and to leave this little island piscatorial paradise. We have had a fantastic trip, and I am already planning to return next year to see all my friends again. Los Roques has been and still is one of the finest bone fisheries on this planet, and with some exiting developments next year will continue to be so for many years to come. Roll on next year!

Los Roques, Venezuela, Day 5

2008-04-17T20:02:00.000+01:00

Right out on the north western edge of the archipelago is a very long beach flat key called Carenero. This and the small keys of Lanqui and Mosquitoqui have long been a favourite of mine. Will joined Elisabeth and I and together with Jesus our guide we set off rapidly after breakfast. It is one of the longest runs they do here, and takes approximately 45 minutes to get out there. The sun was shining, there was not too much wind, and our spirits were high.

On arrival there is a small island just above this area called Isla Felipe O Brujusqui that has a wonderful pancake flat running around it and is often the home of some really good sized fish. This was also the day I had chosen to try out my new toy, an underwater housing for my video camera. Jesus led across the island, through some tightly packed mangroves and we popped out on the flat... with a strong wind directly in our faces.. Will moved up wind towards the top end of the island with Jesus, and I followed along as camera man. Suddenly out of the corner of my eye I spotted movement on the turtle grass and a couple of very large bones became visible, rooting up wind and sticking their tails up every so often. A very difficult up wind back hand cast.... Go on Will! Hauling very hard to make the line punch into the wind the fly came down very hard and the fish spooked. We kept moving.

Swapping over the other side of the channel to Lanqui Will quickly hooked up off the white sand beach on a hot flash minnow. He humoured me and allowed me to chase it around a bit with the camera before we quickly landed it and released it. A nice fish of about four pounds and a good way to start the day. We moved around the corner and Jesus stopped Will with his hand and pointed. Upwind of him in the deeper water were two or three really large fish. He threw a high back cast and a low forecast, tucking the tight loop into the wind. The fish slammed the fly like a ton of bricks and ripped line of his reel and well into the backing before he brought it under control. He expertly used the angles on it and on landing it hit 7lbs on the boga grip. His biggest ever bonefish!

After a quick wade across the channel looking for jacks we arrived on the tip of Carenero. Elisabeth had sit the last one out so Will designated her fisher and Jesus began to lead her up the beach. Just before the shacks we saw what we had been looking for, white lines moving through the clouds of minnows. In the white holes we saw some "Cerdo Macabi"... "pig bones"... She threw a fantasic line straight out to intercept and Will and I watched in suspense as a massive fish turned and chased it.. but failed to hook up. Oh! So close!

She continued down the beach with Jesus scanning the water like a radar, his eagle eyes looking for any hint of movement. I froze like a heron, and slowly moved into the point, showing her the fish and making sure she had seen it before she cast. The line sung out to encouraging comments from Jesus, the fly kissed the surface and almost as soon as she started to strip in the fish charged and hit it with a real bang, screaming out line as it the hot bone headed for deeper water. After a little bit of tug and war, she landed a lovely fish of five pounds on her 7 weight Sage. Sadly the next few fish refused to play ball, often chasing the fly, but Will did not managed to hook them. We took a short break for lunch at which time I took the opportunity to wander over the island to the ocean side which is stunning. You can clearly see the drop off just on the other side of the crashing surf.

For a change of pace Jesus decided we would head to Mosquitoqui for the afternoon session. This is an ocean flat, crystal clear water with white sand that then changes to sand and turtle grass as it swings round the corner. Will and Jesus took the inside line and I waded along the edge. It reminded me a lot of the Seychelles in nature. I saw the other tow casting in towards the mangroves, Will´s rod looking like a cat´s tail before it pounces. He hooked up, but then I saw everything go slack. I moved out onto the turtle grass and immediately began seeing fish, all coming across my left shoulder across the wind. A few deft backhand casts produced a couple f nice fish in quick succession, all surprisingly on minnows. I would cast above their line of travel so as not to spook them in the skinny water, and then start stripping it towards them. Each fish careened forward and simply engulfed the fly. Turning round to see how the other two were doing I saw Will had switched to the 10 weight Cuda rig Jesus had been carrying for him. I caught a couple more fish.

As we moved across the flat I continued to pick of fish with the minnow. I had the sun across me and the wind in my face, but that only made it more exciting as I each time I saw one I dropped to one knee to keep my profile low, and each time they charged the minnow, trying to yank the rods out of my hand as they raced off across the flat. At one point one fish went all solid and I feared the worst. As it arced across the flat it had picked up a ton of weed, doing an effective scything act. Pointing the rod at the fish I began to wind and moved up the fish. I could see its tail flapping pathetically with its head completely covered in weed. Just behind it was a barracuda o about 20lbs thinking it had found an easy meal. I jumped towards it, spooking it effectively before carefully releasing my fish in the opposite direction. By the time we got to the end of the flat I had racked up nine fish. What a session! Will had had two, but as he was on the inside track all the fish he had been casting at were incredibly wary due to the Cuda lurking near by. We compared notes as we headed back to the boat to grab a beer and head for home. On returning back to the dock Will caught a fabulous fish of 6 pounds to finish the day off nicely.

Los Roques, Venezuela, Day 4

2008-04-17T00:39:00.000+01:00

Today the morning began with blazing sunshine, and there was an excited chatter at breakfast. The wind laid down and breakfast was dispatched with utmost haste as everyone piled out the door to the waiting boats. On the way out to the flats some loud cover came over, but this dissipated by the time they hit the pancakes, and many were greeted by the sight of tails glinting in the sunlight.

Rick Scott was lucky enough to be allocated single boat and paired to Cayito. Wading across a vast flat they happened upon a few small rays and a school of angry looking cuda which he unfortunately was not tackled up for. The hard work put in crossing the flat was rewarded when a large school of bonefish slid into view. Casting like a demon Rick nailed five bonefish in quick succession all between two and five pounds. Even though they were wading into the sun with the wind on their backs, Cayito´s eagle eyes made for a terrific morning. He then met up with Will and Jamie at the conch shack to compare notes before heading off to smack another five in the afternoon, bringing his total to ten for the day.

Raphael had begun the day by enquiring what he really wished to target for the day. They quickly hatched a plan to head to the tarpon lagoon to see what they could find. Wading into classic mangrove habitat they quickly fell upon both baby tarpon and snook. Raphael commented he had never seen so many snook. Unfortunately Jamie had committed a terrible sin and left the correct box of flies at home.... on his bed. Muppet. However they had a fantastic time for the morning and had a couple of takes from tarpon and a large swirl from a hungry snook. They then moved onto the beach flat outside the lagoon and Jamie landed his biggest bonefish of the trip tipping the scales at five pounds. He then lost a couple of monsters on the coral. I think a few lessons were learnt here...

Elisabeth, Jane, Andrew and I decided to take the day off today to relax and enjoy the scenery. After a relaxing morning of doing absolutely nothing we met for lunch under mimo´s watchful eye, before retiring up to the roof terrace to chat, look out of the bay and continue to.... nothing.
We contemplating taking a walk up the 15th Century light house on top of the hill to see the view across the bay, but in the heat of the day it seemed like too much effort, so more drinks and rocking in a hammock passed the time. Finally, at about 1530 we thought we would take a rod down on the beach and see what was going on the local "pig bones". On the shore front there are some bonefish of such enormous proportions it blows the mind. There are certainly fish there of 15lbs or more. I know this sounds excessive, but they are well documented and spend their days swimming through the local fishermen coming and going in their boats, round the children playing off the dock attacking pelicans for an easy meal and generally behaving like pet pigs. Oh, they also destroy a fly fishermen once in a while for sport it seems.

We arrived on the dock and immediately saw a pack of them. After a few expletives about size etc, we threw a few casts out with some flash minnows. After four cast Elisabeth´s 7 weight gave a huge buck, she mumbled fish on, and her reel began to shriek as the fish tore line off the reel. About the same time the boats began to come back and as I ran down the dock and onto the beach other members of the party began to congragate. I leapt into the water and managed to prevent the bonefish from swimming under the dock, at exactly the same time as the next wave came in. I quickly pulled the fish in my direction, and the wave spat the slightly confused fish on the beach so I could pin it. We took a couple of shots and then released it, estimating it´s weight at seven pounds. Not bad considering we had only gone 30 yards from the Posada!

Just before I let a client of mine that knows Los Roques very well had sent me some floating gummy minnows saying he had managed to get bonefish to eat them off the surface. Seemed like a good time to try! I pulled one out for myself and one for Will and we cast them off the dock. After about ten minutes of twitching and not much happening suddenly out of no where a massive bonefish cam up and tried to eat Will´s minnow... Unfortunately it did not stick. We then discovered that if we cast at the pelicans, and then allowed the small black headed gulls to try and grab the minnow but pull it away, it was possible to keep the gull around the minnow. This is what attracted the bonefish. Another fish cam out of the water almost bodily after my minnow, but again I could not hook it. As you can imagine along with a few beers this was hugely amusing so there were shrieks of giggles from the surrounding party. As the sun went down and the sky went red it was time to head back to the posada for a shower and some dinner. We are definitely going to have a go again tomorrow as that was way too much fun!

Los Roques, Venezuela, Day 3

2008-04-16T00:34:00.000+01:00

The morning greeted us with much of the same weather, and the crossing over the deeper water to the pancake flats was a little rough. Note to self, if you have a spray jacket, remember to put it into the boat! I partnered up with my American friend Rick Scott, and as this is his first salt water experience I really want him to get stuck into some fish. On any trip the first couple of days can be a little daunting, getting used to all the new tackle, what goes where, and what you really need and what you don´t. After a 30 minutes run in the 28 foot panga we arrived at out destination... One of the keys right on the edge of the archipelago that does not receive much fishing pressure. Incidentaly, many clients asked me why they don´t have flats skiffs here like most fisheries. The answer is very simple, there is a reasonable amount of deep water to cross here in between many islands, cuts, flats and channels. If you try too many of the runs in a flat skiff you would not be able to stand by the time you arrived. The pangas are comfortable, fast and above all safe. All the boats are equipped with biminis allowing shade during the day. Chris has is upgrading all his boats to 100 horse power and four stroke engines as well, which really helps. If we had been fishing from skiffs I don´t think we would have got out today across the channel.

On arrival at our flat we hopped out and began to wade down a long slightly marly flat. Every so often we might sink a little which made going a little slow. Cayito our guide almost immediately put us into fish, and despite the imperfect conditions Rick had four good fish by lunch time. As the fish headed towards us up wind and up tide they almost appeared green in colour which made spotting them considerably easier. I waded a little further away from the two of them and managed to land a couple of nice fish, the second one being about five pounds or so.

At lunchtime I had arranged to meet up with Will, Jamie, Kirsty Nightingale and Alistair Robjent at the old conch shack out on the flats. This is a fantastic little building almost entirely constructed from drift wood and other flotsam and jetsam. It is built on stilts out on one of the flats, and offers a fantastic opportunity to get out of the sun and catch up with the days events. Everyone arrived excited, and as the sun had now appeared for an extended period of time the fishing had improved. We eagerly swapped stories and pics while munching on an fantastic salad and pork escalopes supplied in the cooler along with cold drinks. While we ate I spotted a tailing fish directly out the back waving at us while we ate. Perfect.

Kirsty had just lost 15lb barracuda on a popper, had also landed six bonefish, and Alistair had managed a couple. After lunch they disappeared off with their guide Jesus for more action. The rest of us did a swap, so Jamie joined me, and Rich went off with Will. The next couple of hours fishing were great with Jamie and I landing three apiece before turning our bow for home, a reviving shower and some good food. The rest of the party also had a good day with Liam landing his first five bonefish on fly.