Welsh angler Lyn Davies has filed a clean, single-rod spring fly-fishing day on the River Towy - or Tywi, in Welsh - just outside the town of Llandeilo in south-west Wales.
The river's reputation is largely built on its sea trout, known locally as Sewin. Davies, however, is on it for the wild browns.
"The Towy is most famous for its sea trout, known locally as Sewin, but it also offers some fantastic wild brown trout fishing," he says at the top of the day.
His rig is deliberately sparse. One 10-foot, four-weight rod, with the option to throw dries, swing spiders or carry a French leader if needed. He starts on a duo rig - a small natural-looking nymph below a buoyant indicator fly - to search the water through the morning.
"Just over a 2-ft drop shot to it. Let's choose a nymph. Something small, natural looking," he says. "There we go. The duo. Little bit of Mucilin on my fly line. Not too much. Just enough to keep that line floating high."
The weather isn't on his side. A south-easterly wind cuts across the pools and pushes his line, and the early water comes back blank.
"I'm not loving this southeasterly wind," he says, working a slack stretch through the rod. "Oh, well. It is what it is."
"Stone Pool. Wow. This has changed," he says. "That shingle bank never used to be there. Never ceases to amaze me just how much a river changes over time."
The rises start when emerging Grannom - the small dark sedge that defines spring on rivers like the Towy - finally show themselves on the surface. Davies switches to a single olive emerger.
"Just seen a rise. And again. I think these fish are taking the emerging Grannom," he says. "My trusty olive emerger might do the trick. Right. See if we can ambush these fish."
The morning still doesn't produce a fish. Davies admits to wading deeper than he likes to reach two fish on a far bank, before backing off without a hookup.
"It's not happening, guys," he says, deadpan. "At least we've seen some fish moving. So that's a good sign."
The day turns in the late afternoon. The wind drops, the light softens, and a tightly placed first cast on a new run brings a first fish to hand - small, but fairly hooked.
"First cast," he says. "I think you've bitten off more than you can chew there, fella. Go on, you little rascal, you."
The fish that justifies the day comes minutes later, on a deliberately careful cast. The take is the kind that looks better in slow motion.
"That's a better cast. Right, here we go. Here we go," he says as the line comes tight. "Now then, that feels better. That's a better fish. Oh, that was a cracking take. I had a feeling we'd have him. Come on, boyo. In you come. Great stuff. What a smashing fish to end the day."
"Another fabulous day on the river. Tired, but happy," he says. "Really hope you've enjoyed spending the day with us."