Ullswater/Angle Tarn

The hot rod was packed and juiced up so we could get on our way straight from work. Most of the day was spent reading forums and studying multimap (all on our breaks of course).

I picked Ste up after work and we were on our way making good time. That was until we hit traffic. We amused ourselves during the otherwise tedious 45 minutes by celebrating the magnificence of the vehicle in which we travelled with the people in the nearby cars, endless fun.

I must at this point explain that neither of us have a car and that our

expeditions so far have been facilitated by the use of my girlfriends

battered 1.3 litre bubblegum pink honda jazz (nice one leanne!).

After a quick wing mirror repair stop at Forton services we were back on

route to arrive at Ullswater for about 8pm.

We found a suitable spot on the northern bank of Ullswater and knocked up the stovies which were quickly washed down with a colossal bottle of morrisons dry cider.

When we awoke the mist over the water was so thick you could hardly see 20 meters and it shone painfully bright, with the sun burning through from a cloudless sky. It took about an hour to clear and I got this nice shot just as it was brightening up into pleasant day we had hoped for.

 We both had a go with some small spiders and PTN's for no reason other than

that they were small, and that we'd just bought them.

We fished a couple of hours which proved futile as the only ripples in the otherwise glassy water were the ones created by our shoddy casts.

After packing up and parking in Patterdale we began to tackle the ascent

towards the reason we'd made the journey up from Manchester. Angle Tarn.

The path up is steep and rocky, needless to say we had a difficult time making our way up there with our fully loaded rucksacks. At least

we'd splashed out on a bottle of whiskey between us instead of the usual 3

litres of fermented apple. Who'd have thought that we'd be wishing for

clouds and wind after the shit summer we've had? The blazing sun punished us all the way up, all we could think about was the cold water that would greet us upon arrival.

After about 1 1/2 hours gruelling climb the tarn was in sight, and what a

sight it was, how lucky are we that this is going to be our home for the

rest of the weekend!? Shame we found it so late in the season really.

 As we

approached it our thoughts turned away from 'i'm definitely jumping in as

soon as we get there' to 'can't waste time, must fish immediately'.

 We had considered fishing a duo but both opted for single flies to begin with to try and keep the new tapered leaders intact for more than one cast.

We had a look around, and noticed that there wasn't much in the way of airborne insects, which we put down to the time of day (early afternoon).

So, both digging deep into our vast knowledge of entomology I went for a Diawl Bach, because someone told me once that its a good idea to stick one on if you've got no idea what to do (used it regularly since then). Ste opted for an alexandra because he heard that it was at one time banned at various fisheries.

We fished hard without a pull, nothing to worry about though, the evening

rise will undoubtably bring some results... As the sun neared the horizon

we found ourselves surrounded by insects, not least midges. Where's the Avon?

Not in either of our bags anyway.

The fish were there but just weren't hungry, well that’s a slight lie as

they we're eating everything in sight, bar our flies, and we chucked a lot

of flies at them! Gav did get a take and thought he was in but it didn’t last long, as soon as it was on it dived down into the weed beds at the shallow end placed his hook carefully on a nice solid snag from which it would never be removed, poor craic from the fish I reckon.

I did miss a take, well I think I did cause I don’t really know what that means, I was pulling my fly along the surface when a fish came out to take it but missed it, why did it not take it? This is the second time it's happened now... poor.

We've got pretty used to the feeling of blanking but it always leaves a

slight disappointment in both of us. This disappointment quickly

disappeared when the sun and Angle Tarn produced the most stunning sunset, followed by an exact reflection of the stars and space above. The mirror like surface produced the illusion that we were casting into infinite space and made the tarn look like a vast bottomless pit, dotted with shimmering white lights from distances difficult to comprehend. We've never seen anything like it.

We realised it was time to put the rods down, roll a smoke, open the whisky and enjoy the immense beauty of this phenomenon we were lucky enough to observe.

Sunday was a new day and the eager anticipation was back,  Gav required a couple of wake up calls, a brew, a bacon sandwich, and some paracetamol before he could start contemplating tactics (this has become standard).

As said in our introduction to this blog, this weekend was going to be about hard fishing, about as hard as Duncan Ferguson. Well maybe if you put Duncan Ferguson and Roy Keane together that would be a better reflection.

We fished well hard, chucking all manner of creations all over the tarn.

The trout were there, we could see them rising, even ocasionally leaping right out the water. The casting had got better, our flies were even

turning over and although the wind can take some credit for that, they were still landing properly. WHY DO THEY NOT TAKE OUR FLIES?

We retired for a spot of lunch and some more brews made from the tarn water and discussed the afternoon tactics, not that there was much to discuss as we could now only fish one side of the tarn due to the wind picking up and we'd tried al the flies we had. With admittedly dampened spirits we went back to the water determined not to blank.

After another dour couple of hours fishing expectations were seriously low.

Shouting over to Gav from the part of the tarn I was fishing ' let's fook

it off and go for a walk up the pikes and take in the views before we have

to pack up '. His response was that he wanted to try half an hour fishing

into the wind at the other end before we packed up. Fair do's, we walked

down to the shallower end which we'd been ignoring since the wind picked

up. By this point I'd cast my last fly for the weekend and was what we call

'DONE RIGHT IN', so I sat it out.

I swapped over to an intermediate and out of pure desperation I tied on a

horrible looking multicloured lure that I'd refrained from using all

weekend. I'd tried everything else and needed something heavy enough to fly against the wind, instead of landing behind me (again). I thought I'd go for the 'over the shoulder' that I'd seen demonstrated on Tight Lines earlier in the season, the last thing i needed was a size 8(?) hook lodged in my face.

I was sitting back and watching Gav cast his line, facing away from the

water, thinking about how much of a good time I'd had even though I hadn't caught anything when Gav shouted  'I'M IN!'. Fook off I thought, that jokes been done too many times now, but when I looked up sure enough there was a nice bend in the rod that suggested he wasn't as full of shite as I'd thought. At last a fish was landed at the 11th hour, after a short but spirited fight. He'd done it, caught himself a nice trout around the 1/2 pound mark, I was buzzing myself but I'm sure it was much better

for Gav.

We'd already agreed we'd be able to take a fish each for supper without damaging the stocks so there was no hesitation in chapping the little fella after a quick photo.

The day was over for me (tired, in need of fresh water, and no intermediate line or lures!). Gav with his renewed hope of catching fish carried on (without success) while I took a walk up to the top of the pikes to check the view out and take a couple of photos.

I'm still plugging away on this picture but you cant really make me out.

The person who finds me wins a fly fishing lesson from both of us

(sponsored by the animal liberation front).

When I got back down we packed up and set about the descent down to the car and ultimately back to reality.

30 or so hours earlier we'd been walking up talking about the prospects and imagining how buzzing we'd be on the way down after a successful weekends fishing.

The only difference was that we didn't have as many successes as we'd hoped. We were still buzzing, it was still probably the most enjoyable weekend away this year.

Everything that goes along with a trip like this is what makes it. To experience the solitude and take in the surrounding landscape and wild life was the ultimate privilege.

Landed fish are just a bonus!