The slow heavy tapping of raindrops on the roof woke me early on Sunday, but I didn't mind,
another fishing trip had been planned. At 06:00am I was sat in Kristan's car with my brother Ian and Kris's friend Mervyn, all bound for Llyn Crafnant in Snowdonia. As you would expect at this hour, the roads were quiet and we made good time, arriving at the fishery before the gate was unlocked. We booked in hurriedly and made our way down to the waters edge. This is a stunning venue and even if the fishing was poor, I new that I would enjoy being close to the mountains again, I miss our once frequent climbing trips. We all got togged and tackled up ready for a day of action, within minutes lines were cast and chairs were put in place, but I was not at all comfortable with the prospect of sitting still for hours. I cast a fly several times and despite being in great company, decided that I was off, I had to walk the shoreline, I needed to feel the solitude that I only ever experience in the mountains. The lake is nestled in a steep sided valley, covers an area of about 63 acres and is 3/4 of a mile from end to end. I filled my pockets with food and headed off alone. As I walked, I watched the water looking for signs of fish, casting occasionally into likely looking spots and continually being distracted by the crags that towered all around me. Sadly, the further I walked, the more annoyed I was getting, mans lack of respect for the environment was everywhere. Items of discarded clothing, bits of angling equipment, beer bottles, tin cans, plastic wrappers and the like, were commonplace. It hurt me to realize once more, just how little respect so many individuals have. I walked on, across the pool tail and onto the far bank, now moving up the valley. It was approaching 10:00am and on the other side of the lake cars were arriving, the sound of high speed tyres on gravel carried across the water, the familiar thump, thump, thump of audio equipment invaded my ears. I didn't want this, there was no solitude and I fought hard with my thoughts of discontent. I continued on for another half mile or so to 
the most inaccessible part of the lake. I fished with more concentration now, my thoughts more settled and soon I was playing a brown trout into my net. I dispatched the fish and stowed it in my bag before pressing on a little further. Movement to my left caught my eye, it was Kristan, I know he thinks a little like me and I watched him as he cast his spinner a couple of times. I sat down on the waters edge and waited for Kris to catch up. We rested and chatted briefly and watched Merv on the far bank land a fish and continued to
make our way round the waters edge. We spent a few minutes fishing a brook that ran into the lake and stumbled across the marsh land which was carpeted with cotton grass, we came upon a solitary wild orchid and bent down for a closer look. Few fishermen came here, it would be too difficult to access for many to bother about, but the fishing looked good. Kris caught a couple of nice rainbow trout and I missed one or two. My belly was persistently telling me that it was lunch time and we made our way back to the others where we chatted and joked whilst refueling. I was impressed with Mervyn's earlier catch, it was the largest fish that had been caught between us and weighed about 3lb. The cloud slowly engulfed the high ground and the wind speed increased, bringing a 15 minute downpour that had us all stood under the trees with hands deep in pockets and shoulders hunched. As the weather cleared I got ready to return to our previous spot, Merv decided to stay put and Ian followed several minutes later leaving Kris to bring up the rear. For a while the fishing was difficult, the wind still gusting made casting somewhat entertaining. Quite unexpectedly my fly was suddenly hit by a small brown trout and just as Kris voiced his encouragement it leapt clear of the water by several feet and shed the hook. A few more disjointed casts and the wind dropped, the water settled and I saw a fish rise within my casting distance. I placed my fly right on his nose and teased it slowly across the surface, whack! he was on. I savoured the fight for a few minutes, letting him run, before bringing him in slowly and carefully to the bank. This was a
nice rainbow of around two pound and he was going in my bag. Ian managed to haul in a minnow, that was dwarfed by his worm bait, taking the prize for the days smallest fish and Kristan landed his third two pound rainbow. Before we knew it, time had closed in and the process of packing up had to begin. I took a couple of pictures prior to 
loading up the car. I certainly enjoyed the day, as did I think, everyone else, which leaves me once more to thank the guys, for another day that I will not forget. On the journey home I sat quietly in the back seat and reflected on another great day, but I was troubled by an uneasy feeling, a feeling related to the ethics of this kind of fishing. Fishing that is fueled primarily by the desire for profit and secondly for mans pleasure. You see, I have no problem with fishing for food and I really do enjoy it, the hunting, the battle of wits, the need to eat and living closely with nature, but is it right for man to impose his desire on every last thing that we encounter? I am not saying it is wrong and I have played my part, I am just asking the question, but this is an issue that will always disturb me and I know I will never be completely comfortable with should I continue along this newly encountered, commercially driven trail.
another fishing trip had been planned. At 06:00am I was sat in Kristan's car with my brother Ian and Kris's friend Mervyn, all bound for Llyn Crafnant in Snowdonia. As you would expect at this hour, the roads were quiet and we made good time, arriving at the fishery before the gate was unlocked. We booked in hurriedly and made our way down to the waters edge. This is a stunning venue and even if the fishing was poor, I new that I would enjoy being close to the mountains again, I miss our once frequent climbing trips. We all got togged and tackled up ready for a day of action, within minutes lines were cast and chairs were put in place, but I was not at all comfortable with the prospect of sitting still for hours. I cast a fly several times and despite being in great company, decided that I was off, I had to walk the shoreline, I needed to feel the solitude that I only ever experience in the mountains. The lake is nestled in a steep sided valley, covers an area of about 63 acres and is 3/4 of a mile from end to end. I filled my pockets with food and headed off alone. As I walked, I watched the water looking for signs of fish, casting occasionally into likely looking spots and continually being distracted by the crags that towered all around me. Sadly, the further I walked, the more annoyed I was getting, mans lack of respect for the environment was everywhere. Items of discarded clothing, bits of angling equipment, beer bottles, tin cans, plastic wrappers and the like, were commonplace. It hurt me to realize once more, just how little respect so many individuals have. I walked on, across the pool tail and onto the far bank, now moving up the valley. It was approaching 10:00am and on the other side of the lake cars were arriving, the sound of high speed tyres on gravel carried across the water, the familiar thump, thump, thump of audio equipment invaded my ears. I didn't want this, there was no solitude and I fought hard with my thoughts of discontent. I continued on for another half mile or so to 
the most inaccessible part of the lake. I fished with more concentration now, my thoughts more settled and soon I was playing a brown trout into my net. I dispatched the fish and stowed it in my bag before pressing on a little further. Movement to my left caught my eye, it was Kristan, I know he thinks a little like me and I watched him as he cast his spinner a couple of times. I sat down on the waters edge and waited for Kris to catch up. We rested and chatted briefly and watched Merv on the far bank land a fish and continued to
make our way round the waters edge. We spent a few minutes fishing a brook that ran into the lake and stumbled across the marsh land which was carpeted with cotton grass, we came upon a solitary wild orchid and bent down for a closer look. Few fishermen came here, it would be too difficult to access for many to bother about, but the fishing looked good. Kris caught a couple of nice rainbow trout and I missed one or two. My belly was persistently telling me that it was lunch time and we made our way back to the others where we chatted and joked whilst refueling. I was impressed with Mervyn's earlier catch, it was the largest fish that had been caught between us and weighed about 3lb. The cloud slowly engulfed the high ground and the wind speed increased, bringing a 15 minute downpour that had us all stood under the trees with hands deep in pockets and shoulders hunched. As the weather cleared I got ready to return to our previous spot, Merv decided to stay put and Ian followed several minutes later leaving Kris to bring up the rear. For a while the fishing was difficult, the wind still gusting made casting somewhat entertaining. Quite unexpectedly my fly was suddenly hit by a small brown trout and just as Kris voiced his encouragement it leapt clear of the water by several feet and shed the hook. A few more disjointed casts and the wind dropped, the water settled and I saw a fish rise within my casting distance. I placed my fly right on his nose and teased it slowly across the surface, whack! he was on. I savoured the fight for a few minutes, letting him run, before bringing him in slowly and carefully to the bank. This was a
nice rainbow of around two pound and he was going in my bag. Ian managed to haul in a minnow, that was dwarfed by his worm bait, taking the prize for the days smallest fish and Kristan landed his third two pound rainbow. Before we knew it, time had closed in and the process of packing up had to begin. I took a couple of pictures prior to 
loading up the car. I certainly enjoyed the day, as did I think, everyone else, which leaves me once more to thank the guys, for another day that I will not forget. On the journey home I sat quietly in the back seat and reflected on another great day, but I was troubled by an uneasy feeling, a feeling related to the ethics of this kind of fishing. Fishing that is fueled primarily by the desire for profit and secondly for mans pleasure. You see, I have no problem with fishing for food and I really do enjoy it, the hunting, the battle of wits, the need to eat and living closely with nature, but is it right for man to impose his desire on every last thing that we encounter? I am not saying it is wrong and I have played my part, I am just asking the question, but this is an issue that will always disturb me and I know I will never be completely comfortable with should I continue along this newly encountered, commercially driven trail. 
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