Rainbow River
(1970)

I walked down to the river just as the first grey lights of dawn were shooting up from behind the distant hills, heralding the approach of another day with my creel hung over my shoulder and rod in hand, selected a nice quiet pool where a hatch of early may flies were happily frisking about on the surface. Now and again a big plop and the rapid disappearance of a mayfly told me that my quarry was not far away.

Very stealthily picked up a mayfly and mounted it upon a No. 8 hook and then whipped it directly to a best silk line. With tackle ready and all ready to make my first cast, I suddenly noticed the sunrise in the east. At first the breathtaking beauty of it made me gasp. The sun slowly peeped his magnificent golden head above the dark green hills and instantly the river seemed to come alive with sparkling diamonds. The river was crystal clear except when a trout rose to the abundant mayfly and the surface broke to reveal myriads of sparkling crystals and a dark brown back, beautifully patterned with spots, blue, green and yellow - in fact all the colours al the rainbow. I had been drinking in the magic of the river for the past ten minutes and so I decided to pull myself together and see if I could hook some of these elusive trout.

My struggling maylly alighted with scarcely å sound, just where I had seen a fish rise, and splashed about for five seconds until å great big mouth suddenly thrust itself against the surface and gulped down my fly. With a shout of joy I struck and immediately my trout left the water in a series of breathtaking jumps. However I soon had him under control and it was only a matter of time before I could land him. The fight went on for a further fifteen minutes and then he turned himself on his side and allowed me to guide him into the landing net. My first reaction was one of pleasure. I should have a fine supper tonight. But then I looked down at the river's sparkling brilliance and the myriads of water insects playing on the surface and my gaze switched down to my beautiful trout. There he was suspended in the water by my net, looking like the most wonderful fish I had ever seen, and I thought that my trout would never again swim blissfully in the river but would frizzle in a frying pan, and lose all his colours. I knew at that moment that I could never eat my trout. So, with a sigh, I gently returned him to the water. Then with happiness in my heart I set off on the long journey home.

ANDREW JOLLIFFE, 3C