 I'm on the water, Wimbleball Lake on Exmoor, fly fishing from the kayak. I haven't been out since October, not properly anyway, so this is a real treat. Montana's always seems to do well at the start of the season, I'm going to use this little tiny Montana nymph as a point fly and then a couple of feet up, fishing a small buzzer and the next dropper, very scanty dressed. I guess that's a hazy buzzer I guess, don't know what that is, it doesn't matter, so it happens. It's a pheasant tale nymph, we all know it's a pheasant tale nymph. Unfortunately my head is mush, all my best intentions to make a video go to pot because I can't string two words together, I can't cast, everyone's catching fish, after an hour I'm so eating into one, I'm still struggling, banks have got busy, they're catching fish, my casting's still rubbish, so I give up the calling, switch off my phone, enjoy the scenery, attitude, just as I do that. The fish takes pity, so camera's back in action, I'll take off my hat, put my camera hat on, but I can eventually find it. The fish has other ideas, does it's absolutely best to make sure that's not going to happen. The Wimbledon trout is a super charged fish, I give it a shot as you'll see, like most of my morning it just doesn't work. The net camera on, back in action, in, by which point catching his second trout of the morning, that's my first in the net. I have, yeah certainly have, I've completely lost the ability to fish. I spoon the stomach, I don't find any contents that are noteworthy, but it's a welcome fish to the bag, and we decide to head off to a quieter spot at Upton Arm. That's such a lazy day today, it's been beautiful down at Wimbledon Lake, my friend Ian's had loads of brown trout, which is great because he's not caught one of those from here before, and I've just bobbed around chilling. My god, it's what the doctor ordered, and just as that sun's gone behind some clouds, I've hooked a rainbow trout after about three or four hours of catching nothing.