Rise! Sir Michael

Well tonight was a toss up between Champions League or Church Mayfield and boy did I make the right choice. Conditions were fare on arrival but the river is close becoming desperate for a good dousing, I also suspect the fish are non too happy about it. With spotting only 1 single rise on my slow walk to the weir I began fishing the fast water below the mound of stones which resemble Mam Tor at the moment. After a frustrating hour losing flies to a fish under a tree against the bank I admitted defeat and fished back up to the weir. On went my Klink and this brown below walloped it on the fringe of the riffle, just where I expected him to be, ah ah!

After another small brown under the weir things fell quiet and frustration set in so I went walkabout to the top of the stretch. There were a few small rises nearing the brook and after frantically ripping through my flybox, a small 18 Elk Hair Sedge tricked 2 grayling into my net.

Again things became quiet for sometime and towards the end of my session I noticed crashing rises far upstream on the left bank and unfortunately in a place I could not reach - bummer.

I made my way back downstream and to my amazement I found the lower stretch alive with trout, they were jumping clear of the water snaffling everything resembling a food item floating along the scum lanes. Wow! This was an opportunity I was gonna have to take, even at dusk I couldn't resist a crack at these fish, so I quickly made my way back into the river. I tied on my Balloon Caddis and the fish snatched it instantly and too be honest I think they would have taken any fly choice presented to them. I put the evening rise down to sulking during daylight in a shallow river but by night the they became supremely confident and they were having a real Ramadan. I quickly managed to catch a few trout but missed loads as the night was falling and after fumbling with my camera this midnight rambler below was forced to endure the flash of my camera before I decided pics were a bad idea at night.

Now I admit that fishing alone into dark is foolish really but knowing the venue very well and feeling an overwhelming pull, like some kind of crack addict, I just couldn't resist. The atmosphere was truly electric and after carefully finding my trusty scaffold pole in the bank, I pulled myself up the bank completely satisfied. Just to let you know what the experience meant to me, I was laughing at myself shouting strange things like " Come on Micky" and "You did it boy" and as I neared the bridge/checkin box I spotted a dog walker looking down at me like I was some deranged terrorist suffering from turrets.