The last day of the Devon brown trout season. I had made plans to fish the Tavy on the last day, to catch another monster trout on the lower beat. Four days earlier I had walked beside the River Plym. I could tell from the peaty water flowing under the bridge in the village that the Plym would not be fishable and took my camera instead of a rod. No pressure.

The weak sunshine occasionally broke through the overcast sky and lit up the white water racing down the valley towards Plymouth Sound. The woodland was quiet, the soggy leaves and moss deadened my footsteps as I wandered downstream, pausing to look back at the river and compose a shot.

Gale force winds and heavy rain overnight ruined my plans for the last day of the season. I could hear the water thundering under the old bridge long before I saw the foam and heavily peat stained spate. Water had risen to engulf the flood defences and had left a line of leaves and debris across the grass, marking the high water mark. The river was dropping but not quickly enough.

The spate would bring silver tourists up the river but I had no interest in bothering fish that are teetering on the brink of extinction from the Devon rivers. Salmon had been seen in the Bridge Pool and I saw a couple of groups of sea trout above the fish pass ten days ago. On home ground, it seemed rude to interrupt their journey upstream to the spawning grounds high on the moor.

It’s been an odd season. We seemed to have a spate every week throughout the summer. There was plenty of water but not many trout. The handful of small trout dashing around below the bridge, taking midges in the evening, had disappeared, probably washed downstream.

It’s time to tie a few flies, restore an old rod and to explore Burrator which remains open until late into the autumn. I might also visit the Tamar to see if the grayling have evaded the cormorants.

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