Last week a trip to the River Tamar in Cornwall had to be abandoned because of a bridge closure. A very long detour on a bright spring day, along beautiful country lanes, was no substitute for fishing. A dry, sunny, fishing day had been cancelled. Moreover, during a river walk, I had lost the key to the Defender’s battery isolator and had to bodge a connection with a nut and bolt scavenged from a bracket in the cab. On the way home, in the rain, the wipers stopped working.

I bought a new key and fixed the wipers. I wanted to fish the pool on the Tavy where, on the last cast of the 2023 season, I’d caught a 3lb brownie. I waited until noon before heading to the River Tavy. Another road closure. I cursed and pulled over to consider plan B. I headed in the opposite direction, towards the River Plym, only to find a group of kayakers had trashed the entire Beat. The day was not going well.

Plan C was initiated. The River Walkham was secure behind locked gates and the silence of the deep valley would ease my frustration. After a few miles a sixth sense guided me off the main road, along unfamiliar, narrow country lanes to the Lower Beat of the Tavy. No satnav, just instinct. The sight of the river, bathed in spring sunshine, lifted my spirits and I tackled up expecting good things. I forgot about road closures and electrickery.

The long rod helped me roll the nymph into midstream and kept the main line out of the bankside briars. A quick upstream mend allowed the nymph to sink and swing round enticingly beside the near bank. The tree roots and woody debris were an ideal hiding place. A small trout seized the fly and came off within a few seconds. My first contact with a Dartmoor trout this season.

I moved downstream, exploring the pools and the channels in the bedrock. Another, slightly bigger trout, grabbed the fly and stayed on the hook slightly longer. I was enjoying the sunshine and two hooked fish from two takes was progress.

I wandered along the path to the tail of the big pool. The pool was unfishable with a nymph. I crept along the bank positioning myself next to the culvert where I had unhooked and released my best Dartmoor trout. I recalled the explosive take, could it happen again ? After an hour spent carefully covering all the holding places, I made my way back to the Defender. I might return in a couple of days.