Fishing: The thrills and spills of the right cast

A FEW Saturdays ago I went to Syon Park in Brentford. It was a very hot day, with sedges skittering across the surface of the lake and causing a commotion, like bored teenagers in a shopping mall and chironomid buzzers and alder-flies flying in and out of the sun. The lake at SP is ribbon shaped, so looks very like a river - it is an extremely pretty, if expensive, place to fish (an evening ticket with a two fish bag, is pounds 18).

When I started fishing a couple of years ago, my overhead casting was surprisingly good. Then I learn to roll cast and single and double Spey cast, which is pretty swanky let me tell you and essential for most types of salmon fishing. Although the roll casting and Spey casting are still good, the overhead casting had been causing me problems for some months now - the line wasn't going down straight but rather in a great linguini- type arrangement. It was like the more I learned about it the worse I got - and good casting is all about being relaxed. So after five minutes of bad casting, I decided to give up fishing altogether. I packed up my rod and lay on one of the benches that are scattered along the bank and thought of what I would do if I didn't fish and what new use I could put my fishing vest to.

I read `The Windknot' the Albury Estate (managers of Syon Park fishery) newsletter. It told me that you can tell if a fish is dead or not by his eyes. This is not as obvious as you may think because sometimes having been bashed about the head, the fish is rather still, but not yet dead. But if the eyes look down, the fish is still alive, if they are flat, i.e. looking straight out, then it is dead. I read on and discovered that the heaviest rainbow caught last year at Syon Park, weighed 18lbs. I called Pete who was further up the bank, on his mobile. "Put on a Cats Whisker or Damsel nymph," I advised - as lots of folk seemed to have caught something on that. Pete was not that interested, having just netted a two-and-a- half pounder, caught with a Bloodworm. What did I care, I was no longer a fisherman.

But the sun was shining, the sedges were still creating chaos and the birds were chatting. Out of the corner of my sulky eye I saw a magnificent trout rise to just below the surface, turn, and dive. I walked slowly across the cute bridge that strides the lake and moved to right near the entrance of the fishery. "Look," said Pete, "you're just not waiting long enough on your back cast. And you've had the wind against you. Try again." So I tried, and tried and suddenly it all came together in one glorious snappy, waited just long enough, swooshy S-shaped presentation. I changed my Olive Damsel nymph with its bulgy eyes for a Goldhead Pheasant Tail nymph and was just lifting the line off the water when the line tightened. It was a fish, and despite what everyone says in these circumstances, he really was not small. Unfortunately, I got over excited and made the classic and very stupid mistake of not giving the fish any slack at all, and the line broke.

I cast again immediately. That fish was mine. Where the line entered the water it made a slight curl which made a good sight marker. The curl straightened out, towards the depths of the lake, yet I wasn't touching the line. In the belly of the lake, a rainbow was tasting my fly. I struck and sure enough another fish was on. He was a respectable size (the average is two and a half pounds at Syon), two pounds, but he fought like a warrior fish and the playing in was very enjoyable. By the time he was netted, I was shaking all over. Who needs drugs?

By this time the sun looked like a giant orange Alka Seltzer that had just started to fizz, and dusk was upon us. The wind changed again so I swopped banks and moments later the line jerked once more and I went to strike. But although I was drawing in line and there was obviously something there, it wasn't connecting. Suddenly a baby perch landed at my feet, the size 12 hook nearly bigger than he. I saw him safely back into the water.

The day at Syon Park ended with me catching no more fish. Pete (who had caught two) had to drag me off the bank at 9.30pm. I can't wait to go again.

A new by-law came into effect on 1 April: It is now illegal to use keepnets and landing nets made of knotted mesh or meshes of metallic material, and to keep more than one fish in a keepnet at any one time. The first time you could get off with a caution from the baliff but it is entirely possible that you could be prosecuted and fined so change those nets! Orvis (0171 494 2660) are offering 25 per cent off any of their new knotless nets if you bring in your old one.