Late September and early October were times when good grayling fishing was to be had of the River Hodder

Another salmon or two in the dark Hodder waters

The dark mysterious waters of Lancashire's wonderful River Hodder

Late September and early October 2008 were times when good grayling fishing was to be had on the River Hodder.

However, when the rains came, leaves started to fall in abundance and the river went quickly into murky spate conditions. A salmon or two for the freezer was an attractive proposition, so I ventured forth on one of my infrequent trips to catch a silver bullet.

The day in question was in early October and the previous night has brought fresh water into the rocky pools. The River Lune, farther North, had received a 12 feet flood the day before with fields being water-logged. Nevertheless, the Hodder was at a nice height for a spot of 'chucking and chancing' with a flashy lure.

When I got to the car park I was soon joined by Lee Lamb, a fellow angler who also likes to be versatile, yet possibly with a bias towards sea- trout.

A nicely marked Hodder sea trout photographed then quickly returned to the stream

On my way down the muddy field to the river I was clever enough to slip over a wooden plank and end up in a ditch with a bleeding hand, thanks to a well-hidden barbed wire fence. Somewhat in pain yet undaunted, I pressed on to the hut and soon had my heavyweight migratory gear ready to do foul murder. 15 pound B/S line and a poker-like 8 foot spinning rod was the order of the day, with no place now for my beloved dry fly rod and tiny flies. Most self respecting grayling would be glued to the bottom of the flow, happy to dodge the heavy currents and floating debris whist feeding on caddis larva and snails.

Lee was visibly excited to soon have an 8 pound cock salmon on the bank. This was encouraging as that was his first walk down the pool. Soon after that I landed and returned a nice sea trout of 4 pounds and lost another one.

Nice one Lee - grins don't get bigger than this! Lee Lamb - an angler who enjoys his fishing to the full, happily seen here displaying his lovely 8 lb salmon taken on his trusty old Mitchell reel

Subsequent to a swiftly consumed sandwich or two and some amicable fisherman's reminiscing over years gone by and fish landed, we spun down the pool again. Sport had slowed down and my back was starting to ache with the constant casting.

The only other angler we saw was on the opposite side of the stream. Sadly, the poor chap was having no end of problems with his fancy, double-handed fly casting techniques and seemed to spend more time hooking tree braches than any fish present. The unfortunate guy was swearing on a regular basis at his bad luck (or perhaps his own casting ineptitude), yet I think the fish could just about be heard to be laughing at him under the surface flows. Trying to throw a salmon fly from under overhanging trees on a rock-strewn river is frequently both foolish and dangerous at times, unless one has the required skill to accomplish such a task.

Lee was happy with his fish and had just started to pack up for home when something almost ripped the rod from my grasp. Following a very scrappy tussle I soon had a nice bright 6 lb cock fish in the net. Lee came over to see my catch and then wandered off back to the car park. I was content to finally have a salmon on the bank.

The author with a plucky 6 lb salmon - unaware at this stage that it was soon to be dwarfed by a much larger specimen

Half an hour later fatigue was starting to sink in when suddenly a large dark shape swirled in a fast run and hit my lure. Almost as fast as the take had arrived I knew the fish had come off. This happened again minutes later and I realised that plenty of migratories were running through the stream. In some years hardly a fish is taken yet this season fish were clearly there to be caught.

Ten minutes passed when my line tightened into something that really felt rather big.

The salmon took the lure in shallow water only a few feet from where I was standing then pushed hard for deeper water. The clutch on the Shimano LX 3000 screamed and I tightened up a little. On the first sighting of the fish I instantly knew it was well into double figures. The clarity of the stream was dark sherry, yet quite good by now, and I could see the mysterious silver shape that was only about six yards from where I was positioned. The rod arched violently into a worrying semi circle as the fish jerked more line off the little spinning reel and my arms were starting to ache with the pressure of the battle.

With large fish of any kind the human mind starts to play tricks after around ten minutes into any hard fight. Will the fish come off; will the gear hold up; should I have used a stronger rod? All these nagging doubts and more come to mind when the pressure starts to show on the angler and one must remain highly focused on the task at hand at all times or else it bye bye fish! Positive thinking really makes a difference at this stage of the game, no matter what species has taken the bait.

Pat Regan with the 15 lb Hodder salmon - thanks Kyle for this picture

I knew that the landing net under my arm was 'not' going to manage this monster so I took a deep breath, grabbed the rod with both hands and walked the salmon upstream towards a shallow spot to hopefully beach it. The fish was thankfully tiring by now and came walkies like a good dog. Why this happens I am not sure but 'work' it does so long as the strain is constant as you walk!

Following a final rush for the sanctuary of the dark, Hodder depths I succeeded in directing the fish's nose towards the bank. As soon as I got her into position I reached down, kept the tension on the rod with my left hand and, picking the vital moment, grabbed her tail and pushed hard. Seconds later I slide her onto the grass.

She weighed in at 15 pounds and had taken an estimated 20 minutes to land. I have taken bigger salmon in the past, yet this one shall stay in my mind for a very long time.

A brace of Lancashire's silver travellers for the table - next year may be better - who knows?

I am quite confident that I could have probably caught more salmon during that hectic late afternoon, yet the light was starting to fade, the rain was increasing and I had to carry both of the fish plus my gear up the steep hillside though muddy pastures.

This heavyweight adventure had provided a pleasant change from my usual dry fly exploits, yet I knew that as soon as drier conditions returned my passion with the dry fly would bring me back to the stream to seek out the frequently elusive grayling.