My Kind Of Heaven - by Geoff Knott

Images and editing by Alan Evans ( reproduced with kind permission from the Sancler Times )

Garnffrwdd Lake Trout Fishery Google Map & Directions

The sun was a fiery orange, soon it would start to go a deeper shade of amber and ever so slowly dip below the mountain. In the far distance, there was no wind at all and the surface of the lake was like a sheet of glass. I still had a good couple of hours before I would have to see about moving from this idyllic spot. I had a backdrop of trees that came down to the waters edge and as I looked above the trees from the stern of my boat I could see various species of birds returning home for the night. Far above the tree line was the unmistakable shape of a red kite as it continued to scour the land for its evening meal.
Close to the shoreline I could see the unmistakable wake of an otter in the margins. Coming towards the boat in all his majesty was a regal swan. I am sure he was hoping that I would have something for him. The heat had gone out of the day. I sat there with a cool drink in my hand. I had to stop fishing to take it all in and gaze upon Gods creation in all its beauty.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw a trout rise close to the reeds. I knew that with a good cast I could reach it. The trout was working along the margins and I suspected it was feeding on the rising midges that could just about be seen. I lifted up the rod and prepared to cast taking time to anticipate where it would come up next. I cast my fly to where thirty years of experience told me the trout would surface next. The fly alighted the water like gossamer to exactly where I wanted it and after a pause I started a slow retrieve. A minute later the line went solid. At first I thought I had hooked the bottom but then the bottom started to move and I knew I had something. I was into one of the over wintered trout that had grown on to a substantial size.
The tip of the rod bent right over as the trout steamed away. I knew there would be little I could do in controlling this beautiful fish until later in the fight. All I could do was apply as much pressure as possible and just hope if would not find an underwater obstruction.
Ten minutes later I felt as if I was in control. The fly line was in the water and I had little backing line left on my reel but ever so slowly I started to gain the line back on the reel. Another ten minutes went by but at that moment it seemed that time had stood still. I now had the end of the fly line back on the reel and I knew that thirty yards away a trout in pristine condition was doing its very best to part company with my fly. The trout was trying to get the upper hand but I knew in my heart that I had already won the battle. I just had to rely on my experience, stay one step ahead of the trout and hope and pray that the fly held.
It was another five minutes before I could slip the net under a very nice brown trout. As I lifted the net into the boat the adrenalin was still running strong. I wondered if this thing of such great beauty would beat my previous best. I despatched the fish straight away and after removing the fly with my hands still shaking I weighed it. The hand on the scales didnt quite reach ten pounds but I was well pleased, it was a very fine specimen.
I had to sit down for a good ten minutes and make a cup of coffee from my flask. Any fish is a bonus but I didnt think that I would catch another like this one. Fish of this size do not come out every day. I look upon fishing as a day out and a time of relaxation where you can unwind from the stresses of this hectic world in which we live. Finishing my coffee I eased the anchor out of the lake bed and let the boat drift to another favourite spot. I gently lowered the anchor and eased out some more rope and the boat came to a gentle stop. Any noise makes the fish scatter but I had not spooked the fish that I knew abounded this particular part of the lake. As I sat there contemplating my next move a moorhen with her chicks moved along the waters edge by some bushes that grew out of the water. The mother kept her brood close to her and a little distance behind the chicks their father kept a watchful eye out for predators. I changed my fly for a damsel nymph I had made the day before. I had actually made a dozen and I was very pleased with the representation. It was as close to the real thing as I could make. I just hoped the trout would think so to and take it with confidence.
I could not see any trout rising but I knew they were there. I started by casting to my left deciding to work the fly line in a fan pattern ending far to my right. The first cast failed to interest the trout but the second cast did. I had allowed the new fly to sink towards the bottom and had worked it back towards the surface when the line went solid. As it did so I lifted the rod into a fine fighting fish. I allowed the fish to swim out into open water so it did not disturb the other fish where I hoped to catch another. I stated to put the pressure on and as I did so the trout leapt into the air in an attempt to shed the fly. I could see it was a decent rainbow trout and after a few more minutes I had it in the net. I did not weigh this fish, I knew it was around the 3lb mark from experience and it would make a lovely meal for two at a later date. I inspected the fly for any damage and found none. I was so pleased as the trout had not hesitated in taking my new creation. It took with confidence convinced it was a real Damsel nymph. Sometimes when a trout sees a fly it may hesitate if it suspects that something is not quite right. Sometimes you feel a series of little tugs as the trout half takes it and then spits it out. There was none of that with my fly, just a solid take that oozed confidence. I went on to take four more trout including another brownie of four and a half pounds. It had been a good days fishing. Soon after the last fish slid over the rim of my landing net I decided to call it a day. I dismantled my rod and put everything away. When I had stowed the last piece of gear I pulled the anchor in and headed for the landing stage.
The bailiff was there to meet me as I eased the boat alongside the pontoon. The bailiff helped me unload the boat and he could see I had some nice fish. I had a really nice brown trout so photographs were taken for the angling press. I stood a chance of winning the fish of the week prize, which would be very welcome. Having filled in the log book and loading all the gear in the car I drove home at a sedate pace still feeling the glow and the adrenalin from the days sport. It was a great feeling, like a job well done.
So this is my kind of heaven. It is my means of escape. When I am fishing I am away from stress, there are no phones ringing, no clocks, no schedules to meet. I completely switch off from everyday life and I am at peace. The day before I go fishing I am excited and quite often the excitement of what is to come keeps me awake. Have I got the right flies, what will the trout be feeding on, will the weather be good and so on. My experience usually tells me how the day will go apart from what fish I will catch that is. Even if I blank I will still have a good day. I am in another world, a world where peace reigns. I am alone with my thoughts and I have time to think of other fishing venues.

There are some venues where I have yet to wet a line. I am happy and my heart is filled with joy. This is my thing, it is what I do and without wishing to boast I do it well because my heart is in it. I give it everything I have and after more than thirty years I still get that same wonderful feeling as when I caught my very first trout. It is immensely satisfying when the trout are rising to take the fly, which I created at home. Tight lines and good fishing.