Fridays urban adventure was followed on Saturday by a trip back onto the posh waters. The Derbyshire Wye was still high by its standards but was fining down nicely. It was again though, cold and windy which meant that we would be forced once more to focus on fishing a single nymph.

We were rod sharing again and Chiara was to be first ‘in the water’. As this particular beat is on one of the Peak District trails, a few walkers had spotted us approaching the river bank and had stopped to witness this idyllic Derbyshire Dales moment. The trail crosses the river and a small crowd had gathered on the road, on the bridge directly above us and behind us on the path that leads back up into the hills.

 

The receding river had left its banks wet and slippy and as Chiara straddled the stile and strode purposefully towards the river, I felt a wave of dread and foreboding.
Time seemed to slow down.

The loss of footing was early but the fall itself took several seconds. A less gallant individual would have had ample time to get out and set up his camera and still catch most of the event. As she tried to regain her footing I was reminded of the opening scenes of River dance and I have to say that she would have not been out of place on that stage. Eventually though, accompanied by a group “Ooooh”, she hit the ground with a rattling thump and slid slowly and helplessly into the river.

 

The small crowd dispersed awkwardly but were respectfully silent as they melted back into the lush green countryside. We were now alone. Chiara continued to lollop and wallow around in the mud for a while before finally managing to stand up.

After confirming that she wasn’t hurt, I went upstream to “check out some of the other pools” and ring out my Tena man panty pad.

 

It goes without saying that the resulting atmosphere was a little tense and it wasn’t helped by me catching the first fish only seconds after taking ownership of the rod.
Something special was needed, quickly!

 

On my enforced upstream exploration, I’d seen a deep, narrowing channel that just screamed fish so I suggested that we move up to it.
A heavier, deeper nymph resulted in the two biggest fish Chiara’s has ever caught from a river. The second Rainbow was a monster and instantly erased all memory of the ignominy suffered earlier.

 

All was again right with the world. So much so that when we later met the river keeper, it was Chiara herself who shared the tale of her earlier fate. I wouldn’t have brought it up as I’m obviously too much of a gentleman to mention it!