The Welsh valleys in late May provided a pleasing route to a fishing adventure that I will savour in my ever growing array of memories gathered throughout an angling life. The trip to Llyn Clywedog Trout fishery in Mid Wales had been anticipated for several months and as always it seemed slightly surreal when the day to set off actually arrived.
I was joining three old friends who I had fished with over many years in the annual Water Industry Game Fishing Championship ( WIGFC). Whilst we are no longer eligible to fish in the competition we still try to celebrate the old days with a trip together sharing tales of old and writing new chapters. It seems hard to believe that it was way back in 1995 that we were part of the winning team for South West Water at Sutton Bingham.
The glorious weather of late Spring was set to continue and a glance at the many rivers reflected this as we wound our way North. A road closure resulted in a short detour that proved a blessing in disguise as at just before 8:00am we spotted a sign to a Farm Shop with breakfast from 8:00am. The Valley was bathed in soft morning light, resplendent shades of green with rolling hills lay before us as we enjoyed a delicious full English with hot tea and coffee. Swallows and house martins were swooping to and from the eaves and all seemed pretty good with the world.
Fully refreshed we set off again pausing to take a look at the River Usk where Ray had enjoyed a day chasing the wild trout for which the river is renowned. So many places to fish and so little time. Talk of friends work colleagues and people we had known through the years who were now deceased or gripped by old age focussed the mind on life’s fragility.
The words of Francis Rossi’s song ‘Tongue Tied’ came to mind as we resumed our journey.
I’m just dreaming of a time long ago
I’m just dreaming of the past
I’ve been feeling that there’s not long to go
Why does living go so fast?
An hour or so later we arrived at Llyn Clywedog a spectacular reservoir nestled within steep valleys of bracken, forest and sheep grazed slopes. The water shimmered ruffled by a moderate North East breeze beneath a brilliant blue sky. We purchased our bank tickets from the fishing lodge and set up our tackles for the day.
We had three days fishing ahead of us and confidence was high as we explored the vast area available on the Southern Bank. Swallows swooped over the water and the cuckoo’s evocative summer call drifted through the air. The occasional trout rose just out of casting range and we fished hopefully.
The scenery was truly epic and I relished exploring each corner of shoreline. Lush greenery of late Spring, young lambs grazing on in an idyllic backdrop.
Ray was fishing to my left and I called to him as an osprey soared above its white undersides clearly visible as it glided effortlessly above the lake. It was a sight to lock into those memory banks for sure along with the many kites we were to see over the three days we fished.
We packed up at around 5.00pm to head for our hotel ‘ The Red Lion’ in nearby Llanidloes a small town located close to the source of the River Severn. We had left North Devon before 5.00am and were all feeling a little weary and ready for food and drink.
We reminisced about life and fishing over a couple of pints and a good meal. The same old stories resurfaced of past adventures across the UK. The annual WIGFC competition rotated around the reservoirs of the UK resulting in us visiting an array of locations. Stories of a pub in Northumberland where a raffle in the village Hall offered pots of paint, light bulbs and a starched white shirt were retold. The hostel where a bed bug resistant bag was offered on arrival. The trials and tribulations over the years recalled with fondness and a hint of melancholy as we pondered upon the passing of time.
Day two saw us head to the lake after a good breakfast. We fished from the boats. I shared a boat with Ray with Garry and Rob sharing another boat. The boats enabled us to explore a far wider area. Stepping out onto the boats we gazed into the clear waters to watch a large gathering of trout swimming around the jetties. A few trout pellets tossed into the water resulted in a boiling frenzy. These trout were not fished for and known affectionately as the pets. Some of these fish were well over 5lb and had apparently haunted the area for several seasons.
On day one we all found a sinking line productive with the ever successful olive damsel proving effective. I also experimented with the locals popular choice of tactic suspending a pink wriggly worm pattern beneath a bright bung indicator. Ray and Garry frowned upon my lack of etiquette; likening the tactic to Coarse Fishing. As an all-round angler I sometimes struggle with the rights and wrongs of fishing tactics. In truth it was nice to take a rest from continual casting and drift along watching the optimistic bobbing of the bright bund. Its disappearance and connection with a hard fighting trout just another tactic to employ and enjoy.
In short we caught close to forty hard fighting rainbows during our two days on the boats with Rob landing a pleasing spartic. The fish were all in superb condition, full tailed and hard fighting. The average size was around 2lb with the occasional fish close to 3lb.
On our last morning we learnt that booby’s often produced the bigger fish; deep and slow the tactic.
Once again our WIGFC inspired trip had taken us to new waters. Vast blue skies, soaring kites in a wild and largely unspoilt landscape. Llanidloes the small town at the head of the Severn had an atmosphere of its own with a timeless aura that seemed to hang onto a retro 70’s vibe. Squadrons of swifts swooped high above as we strolled the streets embarking upon a little window shopping. It seemed to me that there was a greater abundance of bird life here in the depth of Wales. I certainly hope to return in the not too distant future.
As to next year there will hopefully be another WIGFC reunion maybe a bit closer to home.
