Saturday 30 September, the last day of the Devon trout season. I had returned to Devon after chasing big trout in Sussex. I wanted to fish on the last day of the Devon season, irrespective of conditions. Storm Agnes, the UK’s first big autumn storm, fizzled out mid-week and left the river levels up slightly. The morning was bright and breezy so I waited until early afternoon. The sky became overcast and rain was forecast for the evening. Conditions were perfect.

I chose Bob Southwell’s “The Blagdon”, my much abused Hardy Marquis and an old Rio Creek WF4. I would celebrate the end of the season with tackle that imposed a relaxed approach. Catching trout was not my main concern, I would walk the Lower Beat of the Tavy and say goodbye to the river until next year.

I started in the middle of the Beat and had a take second cast as I lifted off. I missed. The water was coloured but not cloudy. Autumn leaves were funneled into the main current, some were trapped in the back eddies. I concentrated on the slack water on my side of the river. A cormorant flew past quite unconcerned by my presence. I hooked a few leaves and moved on.

I fished hard down the riffle below the island. Running the nymph under the trees and retrieving it through the slack water along my bank. Nothing. I was resigned to a fishless afternoon and quite content to wander downstream looking for photo opportunities. I walked downstream past the big pool, it was a washing machine. A heavy line and big lure might have found a trout but it’s a boring way of fishing.

The wide, shallow water at Ludbrook Run looked inviting and renewed my hopes of finding a fish. I lengthened the line and fished the nymph down and across. Twenty yards away, in midstream, I had a heavy take. A big fish became airborne several times and my heart rate soared. I was shaking, expecting the hook to drop out at any moment. The trout went on a long run downstream and I had to follow, the fly line was down to the curly bit near the arbor. The fish calmed down and plodded back upstream, shaking it’s head, rattling the rod.

I found a drainage ditch and slid down to water level. I slipped the nymph from a sliver of skin in the trouts jaw and watched it swim away. No handling. It was a miracle that the hook had held. I snipped off the fly and walked slowly back to the Defender in a daze. I smiled all the way home. I have caught many trout around the three pound mark when fishing the Sussex Rother. This fish was above that weight and in great condition. It fought like a six pounder, a truly wild trout.

It had been a remarkable afternoon. The Defender had started the first time of asking despite standing idle for two weeks. I’d had the pleasure of using a favourite rod and reel. The river looked stunning and I had caught my personal best wild trout. I cannot imagine a better way to end the Devon trout season. I celebrated with a large Lagavulin at the Leaping Salmon and bored everyone with photos of the monster trout.

I can fish Burrator Reservoir until the end of November and the Tamar for grayling until March. It will be a long time before I can visit the Tavy again.