The river was at a good level after weeks of spates. The sun was shining but heavy rain was forecast for the afternoon. An early start was required. I left the cottage at 9:00am, that’s early enough.

The wood, deep in the Walkham valley, hadn’t been visited for months. There were no footprints or paw prints and the brambles grew across the path. The trees were festooned with bright green lichen and the buds on the hazel trees were only just breaking. I could see the main river from the path, the lack of foliage gave me a long view across the valley to the far side where the fir trees had been clear felled to make way for native broad leaves.

I saw my first trout in the leat, it saw me first and bolted upstream. The leat was three feet deep in places and flowed swiftly fifty feet above the river level. I thought I might dangle a nymph there on the walk back out of the wood.

I started just above the fish pass and then moved upstream to the long, gentle left hand bend. The long rod was an advantage, I could hide behind tree trunks and flick the nymph a few yards down and across, exploring the rocks and tree roots along the far bank. The birds were in full song, the only species I could identify was a buzzard. I expected a take with every cast but I found myself back at the fish pass without bothering a trout.

The very deep water immediately above the weir look good. Surely four feet of slow moving water would hold a few fish. I spent a while covering all the patches of sand, rock ledges and the bubble line but the rod stayed straight.

The sky clouded over, the temperature dropped and rain began to fall. Time to go home. I paused beside the leat and ran the nymph through several holding places but the trout were not at home. I’m not sure about early morning fishing. I’d rather have a leisurely breakfast and fish in the evening.