Bigland

Since WADAA took control of Bigland trout fishery I’ve had a couple of walks round on my way to the coast on my mullet jaunts and always liked the look of the place but noticed that it’s a very popular place. With most swims taken and preferring quieter waters, I never got round to fishing. Last night Pete and I spent a cool but enjoyable evening there. Seeing as we had the place to ourselves it seems that everybody else had taken notice of the cold north westerly and stayed at home, I bet they weren’t up at High Newton! In the sheltered car park the wind couldn’t show it’s teeth and I rather glibly wandered down to the water with just a fleece on. On my way out on the platforms to a small island, I realised my folly and was soon scuttling back to the truck for a jacket. It was slow going out the wind with the odd fish showing but neither Pete or I had any takes. bigland1

Trust me, It was cold

  I wandered back to the sheltered bays around the large island and had a good rainbow around 3lbs, just off the island on a black buzzer. bigland3

Round here, we call that a good un

The wind backed down in the last hour and a few sedges started coming off wandering round the lake Pete got 4 fish off the top on his patented “Bog Brush Sedge” and I had another on a balloon caddis. If the likes of Fulling Mill or Orvis got sight of the Bog Brush Sedge, Pete’s place in the pantheon of fly tying greats would be firmly established …. maybe.

Unfortunately on Bigland there is a curfew and the sign at the hut reported this week it was 21.45 to be off site or packing up 21.30 meant we left just at the point where fish were really getting onto the sedges. bigland2

Sheltered bay – where Pete’s Bog Brush Sedge reigned supreme

On our way back to the car park there was one fish rising steadily in the last bay and I told Pete it was mine. Pete sat and watched my fantastic chuck over it as my mobile rang out in my pocket, I obviously ignored the phone, only for it ring again and then again, “3 calls better check it” I muttered, as I fumbled with my phone the fish came up nailed my caddis and I pricked the fish on the strike, dropped the phone and Pete rolled around laughing. In a final twist of the knife the call was Diane telling me that there was no power at home so I shouldn’t rush back! Off to the Swan for a pint then!

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