A salmon revolution without the catch

Hypocrite. This is what I thought of myself as I stood in the Tweed, covering the water for all I was worth, heart beating extra hard under my fishing vest in anticipation of maybe hooking a salmon. I know, I know. In my last column I implored people not to try too hard to catch a salmon if they went fishing for one. Packing for my trip I had told Pete that I would not try too hard to catch one. He has stared at me in disbelief. "Do you have any idea how many people would give anything to be in your waders?" he spat.

Anyway, the point is I did not catch one ­ and if I had it would have gone back ­ but I have never fished better for salmon. It had been ages since I had last held a double-handed rod in front of an actual river. I was slightly embarrassed because I was with Andy Murray from Hardy's and Mark Bowler, editor of the best fishing magazine: Fly Fishing and Fly Tying (I am not paid to say this ­ I don't even get a free subscription). Despite having had quite a few spey casting lessons, including from people like Michael "good casting is like making love to a good woman" Daunt from the Hugh Falkus School of Spey Casting, spey casting is like anything ­ if you don't practise you get crap at it.

Mark started trout fishing ­ you can catch some lovely wild brownies here. Andy set me up with a new prototype rod that hardly anyone has fished with! I do like being first. It was part of the new Gem salmon rod series (out later this month) and 13ft long. I had forgotten everything, but within a few seconds Andy had me back on track.

Because I have quite small feet it's difficult to get proper chest waders. So I have some very cute children's thigh waders but the soles have just normal wellington soles, ie, no studs or anything for extra grip. Yes, yes I know that you can buy studs and screw them in but I never get round to it because I always intend to get proper waders. Anyway, because of all this, Andy had to hold my hand in order for me to wade out over some rocks and onto weed which was less slippy. Talk about feeling like a girl! But Andy was dead cool and said he did not mind, bless him.

Clearly confident with my abilities, he had put a piece of wool at the end of my line. After 10 minutes I grew bored of the red wool and so we walked down river to another spot. Andy handed me another rod and had put an Ally's cascade onto the end of it.

This time my casting was really good. It just all fell into place. I felt in control of the rod, like it was an extension of my own arm, which is how it's meant to feel. My casting was good and precise, I was covering the water, getting line out. I felt goddam king of that river, I never normally feel like this. "How d'you feel with a 15ft rod then?" said Andy as he appeared by my side, puffing on a fag.

Last time we had met we had had this long conversation that maybe a 13ft rod maximum would be best for me. I thought 15ft and 16ft rods were for seasoned pros and tall men. And here I was, master of one. Andy had swopped them as we had walked up the bank.

Usually, after a couple of hours of salmon fishing I have had enough of it. What with the line flying all over the place and getting back ache from holding the rod. Here I had another eureka moment. Andy told me that after I had cast out and the line was sweeping across the river, I should just hold the rod by my side with one hand, not holding onto the line, just the butt of the rod. Like you would hold a handbag. This just revolutionised salmon fishing for me. No more jamming it into my belly, back arched over the rod as I fished the line out. Bliss. Why had no-one told me that before? "Is this really how you fish, Andy?" I asked, fearful that he was making me do something foolish for a laugh. He assured me, yes. No wonder people can salmon fish all day without needing the osteopath, I thought.

We talked about how, that very day, the Tweedside Foundation had bought out the last three remaining nets on the Tweed. I asked what the netsmen would do now, "most will become ghillies". Also, this spring was the best on record for salmon catches on the Tweed. Which was very heartening to hear amidst the gloom and doom usually talked about salmon, mostly by me.