It hardly seems possible that another twelve months have passed since I joined the Fluff Chucker’s at Colliford high on Bodmin Moor. Fortunately I had learnt a valuable lesson that despite the favourable weather forecast it gets cold up there on the Cornish highlands. It seemed relatively mild and with a light breeze I pondered for moment before donning a thick fleece under my fly fishing vest and waders. Familiar faces were gathered around Rodney Wevills car as we collected our measuring gutters and received our goodie pack from sponsors Turral Flies.

We all headed eagerly to the water’s edge with competitors heading to their favoured areas. I had a cunning plan to head to where I had fished before and with a gentle breeze blowing into the bay I felt sure a few fish would be present close in. I had set up with my new Snowbee Floating Line and leader with three flies. A black bead headed tadpole on the point, Black spider on the middle dropper and a black and red Zulu on the top dropper a combination that I would have confidence to fish most days in early spring.

The first hour proved difficult as I searched the water contacting a decent trout after ten minutes that threw the hook after a few seconds and a spectacular somersault!

A short while later the line again tightened and for a second or two I thought I had hooked the bottom; that slowly started to move followed by a glimpse of a thick spotted flank that erupted from the water in a flurry of spray! This was a beauty I thought but elation turned to despair as the hook hold gave way the big brown trout disappearing from whence it had come. Another tale of the one that got away added to life’s toll!

The leader was left tangled requiring a re-tying. This was not a brilliant start, then the wind started to strengthen and I nearly lost my cap the fastening button failed. I pulled my buff up over my cap and soldiered on as the wind picked up. I persisted for a while but no more takes followed and a move seemed a good idea. I walked a half a mile or so to an area I had caught from on my last two visits.

First cast and I hooked a trout that came detached after a brief leap from the lake. Fifty yards further along the bank and I hooked a brown trout of 36cm. Two casts later a beauty of 42.5 cm was safely in the net. Things were starting to come right and I fished on now with renewed confidence.

The wind was by now strong and bitter cold with the sun hiding behind grey clouds making it a rather bleak and inhospitable environment.

            I added another small brown before deciding to head back to where I had started the day adding another two trout to end the day with five trout. In truth I wasn’t to disappointed to reel in at 5.00pm and leave the cold water behind for a while.

            Back at the end of competition meet up Rodney worked out the results and I listened as tales of the day were told. The cold wind had resulted in widespread chilling to the bone, slip and trips, bloodied fingers from stray hooks and plenty of tales of escaping trout. All agreed through chattering teeth that it had been a great day and that the next event is eagerly awaited.