Bewl Water was looking calm at 8.30am. It had been windy yesterday and we weren't too keen on repeating our experience of last June, when the boat came close to sinking in the open body of water before the fishing lodge.

Colin had been given a number of rods by the widow of a customer and we were testing out their handling properties when someone came by, looking experienced and knowledgeable. He gave us a rundown on all the rods, from the Hardy greenheart, circa 1902-1911, a powerful split cane model, a Milbro glass fibre rod and a Marco Hornet, from the Modern Arms Co Ltd, which he said was one of his. He explained that he had built the rod for the company and pointed to his signature on the rod, Tony Fordham. It was an informative meeting.

We got a boat and headed for the "Nose", a spit of land opposite the lodge. We tried drifting, but were blown straight onto the shore, so we anchored up and cast below some flooded oaks. I had been fishing with a damsel nymph and a pheasant and claret for some time without a take. I decided on a change of fly and tied a gold-head damsel on the point. Nothing happened until I hung the flies a few yards from the boat. Before 3 seconds had elapsed, I got a slashing take and a lovely silvery rainbow trout gave me a good fight for several minutes. It was only 1.5lbs, but had a lot of stamina with a good tail and fins.

We often fish the "boil," an area of aerated water to ensure catching something, but thought we'd try fishing some quieter spots for a change. Bewl has some beautiful surroundings, with farmhouses and oasts scattered around it with woodland, orchards and meadows sloping down to it's banks. Bays, straights, inlets and hidden fingers of water allow a variety of fishing styles.

We weren't the only fishers there. A couple of sandwich terns were doing very well on the fry and a few cormorants were in residence. Some of the crows have learnt to fish in Bewl and can occasionally be seen hovering just above the water, before dropping down to snatch fry from the surface. Great crested grebes breed here successfully and live in quite large numbers, diving for a couple of minutes at a time for fish.

Large numbers of duck, mainly mallard and tufted, feed in the shallows and in the flooded mangrove-like margins. Geese number many hundreds and are mostly Canadas with a few Greylags. Some of the Greylags have interbred with white farmyard geese and their offspring exhibit the range of colours between them.

After an hour at the "Nose," we moved onto a bay close by, where we often catch in deep water close to shore. The water is very clear with a little algae and we saw nothing rise there. Another hour passed before we elected to try the bottom end of the reservoir. We had seen the stocking boat head in that direction 20 minutes earlier and were desperate enough to heave aside any scruples we might have had about fishing for newly released "stockies." Three other boats had beaten us to it and were fishing before the furthest treeline, so we headed off to the right into a gorgeous drift. It is surrounded by several woods on different banks. This was around 3.30pm.

Cuckoos started calling and answering from woods nearby and across the water. It is an idyllic spot and we would have anchored up to fish a small bay, but the wind got too strong for the anchor to hold, so we got the drogue out and drifted instead. We passed a couple of bold stands of yellow flags just emerging into flower, worth a fortune for the pleasure they gave, but we were also here to fish and frustration was beginning to take it's toll as Colin tangled up time and again. I did have to cut out tangles on three occasions, but I managed to finish the day with the same leader I started with.  There's a first for everything.

Half way through the drift I saw a brown trout leap in the bay we tried to fish. Less than a minute later I thought I'd snagged on the bottom. As I lifted up the rod, it suddenly bent down and sprang up again. A brown trout shot to the surface and turned back down again; unfortunately, it was no longer on my line. That was the last we saw of any fish until we drifted on to the far bank. A dead pike of around 3lbs lay suspended in the water with most of it's head eaten away.

Our next stop was by the dam at Rosemary Lane. Here the water was very clear and I could see thousands of pin-fry, providing a crisis of confidence and real competition for our flies.

A late attempt to find fish saw us trying "Chingley Point." A lot of boats were anchored along it's shore, but we got no sign of fish, visual or otherwise. The wind was strenthening and becoming chilly, so we called it a day around 6.45pm and headed for the lodge to register the catch and adjourn to the "George and Dragon" in Lamberhurst. Whilst there, someone came in and informed Colin he had hit his motor in the pub car park. It really was not his day, but I bet he'll be back for more. If anyone is going to blank, it is usually me.

Colin's recollection is a little different. As he see it, "I have always thought that if you write a journal you must be honest. My own game book reads G :blank, Colin :6, which seems to have a nice balance to it. I'm particularly put out by, "Colin tangled up time and again." My own recollection of events is distinctly different, with most bird's nests being at the stern end!! However, I'll be back for more."

We both will, despite the fact that we rarely do any better after 20 years fishing the place.