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So that is it for the fishing season on my home river, the Taw in Devon.

It is at these times that I am sure many of us reflect on what has happened; the highs, the lows and sometimes the lost fish.

On reflection I think it has been a pretty good one, if not always consistent.

While I have been looking back, one of the highlights was the early part of the season when I was out guiding people through some spectacular hatches of olives.

It is said we are always learning when it comes to fishing but how often is that really true?

I fish with my wife a lot these days. Over the last five years or so she has become an extremely passionate salmon angler.

As I watch her line travel out over the water I know how good she has become. She won't have any of it though and says it is down to the rod or line and she is modest and says she still has a long way to go. The fish she catches might suggest otherwise and I know she is a lot better than she thinks.

Devon has had some welcome rain. The rivers had been pretty low where I guide and fish but things are looking great again. So much so that I have spent some spare time chasing salmon. I've been lucky and had three; a couple of grilse and one that although a little lean fought like a fish fresh in on the tide.

This month's front cover is from one of my favourite places in the world - Dartmoor. I love the place, I really do. I wrote in a early edition of ESF of how a picture of Mike Weaver fishing Cherry Brook in his excellent book "The Pursuit of Wild Trout" had a profound affect on me. I ended up throwing in a job and moving to Devon to be in the places he fished.

This month's front cover is me and my dog Montana (Monty) heading down the river to fish. He is just over a year old and is, hardly surprisingly, no stranger to fishing. He's been with me when I've fished for trout, carp and salmon too.

He comes from working gun dogs and although I don't shoot I've kicked around the idea of training him to pick up birds but I much more like the idea of him being a fishing dog. I'll often ask if he wants to go fishing and his ears will prick up a little and he'll head to my truck. I think he gets it.

I don't keep a fishing diary.; sometimes I wish I did. I get that it is good to record information, water temp, hatches and so on, but my argument against that is that I tackle each day on the river as a new adventure. Part of the fun, for me at least, is trying to unpick the code of what is happening. Often, there will be a familiar pattern and rhythm that I can slide into without thinking too much and the fish start to come.

It felt like the countdown to the start of the trout fishing season lasted for ever, right?

It's over now though and my local river, The Taw is now open. As ever, I shared the day in the company of good friends catching some fish, having some laughs and talking about the pastime we love so much.

It turned out there were 20 of us. It was a work day for many but they either took the day off of or in some cases I think they had come up with an excuse not to be at work, well, at least that's how it sounded with some of the conversations I caught up with.

The winter lay off hasn't felt a long one this year. I've not been beaten back by the weather too badly and have even been out swinging some flies for salmon with both single and double handed rods.

It is this time of year I make myself little fishing promises, some I keep, others I don't and some I completely forget.

The list is usually pretty similar and involves making sure I try and fish with as many of my friends as I can, fish a little more and a few other random plans or ideas.

It's been a good winter so far. The mild, dry weather has meant that I've been out on the water a lot and haven't felt too bad looking at the many pictures from New Zealand from so many friends who have made the winter migration there.

It's early and the temperature in the truck says -6 as I head to the river.

I’m old enough to know better.

I haven’t slept well, I stop and pick up coffee. I’ve been awake, excited, thinking about the day ahead and need a caffeine hit.

I’m old enough to know better.

The air feels cold as I get into my waders and the frozen grass crunches beneath my feet as I walk down the river. I could have waited until later when it is a little warmer but I don’t.

I’m old enough to know better.

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