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The river was in a deep valley which sheltered the river from worst of the wind. There were a couple of blokes perched on the bank. Just a bit of a nod and a "howya" as I passed by. They were doing the worm and weight thing despite the fact fish were rising up and down the river. I tackled up my fly rod and made my down to a spot on the bank. It took a while to get the fly casting technique going again. Having given the fish a headache practising casting such a confined space I moved upstream. I tried various flys and techiques. Every now and then I would move pegs and try a different stretch of river. The fish seemed always to out of casting reach. As the sun went down the the fish got really busy. Despite my clumsy casting I bagged a couple of fish. The next time I went I bagged another couple. Same again the next evening. No weighty fish altough there were plenty of big fish rising and rolling. So what did I catch or rather what fish gave themselves up? I caught a couple of Perch! What business have they snapping up my fly? I got a couple of Salmon. If only they were bigger. The best fish was a Brown Trout, perhap a quarter pounder....just. The catch is part of the game as is the chase. So whatever you catch is welcome on a new water. I needed floating line, dry flies and better casting technical to get those big uns.
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I can now say that I have caught a wild Salmon and a wild Brownie. As long as no one asks how big they were I won't have to tell a fishman's tale.
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