This is typical night time fishing which I have always found extremely exciting, and requires co ordination and stealth.... so no doubt I was going to find this quite challenging! I have also not done any slithering around in the dark since my days as a guide in Norway many years ago. There I would often spend the early hours wandering around the river blank hitting the spots I knew held these timid fish. Normally when participating in sea trout fishing of this nature one would turn up at mid day or so and scout out the river and the lies so that you would have a much better idea of the topography of the river bed, and where the likely taking spots would be. It is also your opportunity to figure out where you can cast and where you can't.
For this little excursion I was using a 9'8" 7# Loomis matched with a mastery stillwater clear intermediate line on and old Hardy Ultralite Disc, 15 lbs flourocarbon and the weapon of choice down here is a snake fly of Alistair's own concoction. The extra length of rod is useful with the sharp banks and mending the line over undergrowth. The fly is tied on a single size 6 with a long silver mylar body that extends well past the shank of the hook and terminates in a wicked little flying treble. The wing is long and black extending right past the treble, and there is a small orange hackle tied in at the throat.
Alistair and Kirsty showed me the lie of the land and while Kirsty moved further down to one of her favourite spots Alistair kindly ghillied for me and directed me towards a nice little run known as "Lower Pipes". It was a bit if tricky back cast up against the trees, and as I was suing a clear line as well it was pretty tricky to gauge the distance. Eventually I found by using the thickness of the belly I could distinguish roughly how far I was casting under the trees on the following bank. The fly swung round in a fast arc and suddenly, bang! The fish hit the fly like a small jet propelled rocket, and immediately turned and made off down stream with the tip of the rod bucking wildly against the drag. I think to begin with I probably to much pressure on him and brought him up the fish up the surface. We could see the silver flank flashing in the moonlight and I found the sleep that had been trying to invade my eyelids was very quickly beaten back by a rush of adrenalin. After a reprimand from Alistair I back off the pressure a little, and after a couple of admonishing comments such as "you saltwater oik, stop hammering the fish or the fly will pull out" the fish swam freely at its own pace.
It was now pitch black, and as we fished on in the darkness I could here the odd splash of a fish out there that only made the blood pulse that bit more, every cast waiting for the tug in the hand. Every so often the silence was punctuated by the screech of a hunting barn owl, or the whir of bats wings over head. Unfortunately for us that night there was a quantity of weed coming down the river which often resulted in the proverbial "weed fish" excitement, but turned out to be a disappointment. Kirtsy hooked a nice fish between 0100 and 0200, but sadly they parted company in the night. At this point the temperature did a nose dive and the activity dropped off... and so was I. I put aside my rod and followed Alistair down the bank to a favourite lie of his just above the road bridge. Fishing finished at 0300, so it was time of a last ditch effort. Alistair had explained that this stretch had a lovely shallow on the far side that sloped into a trough under the near bank covered by an overhanging tree. I cast down stream and a 60 degree angle allowing the fly to fish immediately and we both held our breath as the fly came round into the trough.