After all the excitement, and with 2 kindly donated rods to use, I slept well. As much as I felt hard done by, I could see that we had unwittingly broken the rules and were punished for it. If I’m honest it sort of added to the feeling that the odds were stacked against us, and yet there was still every chance we could come out of this winning - just one fish.

We had discussed a move back to the ‘Home bank’ if things had not improved, but with fish showing everywhere on the fish finder we decided to stay despite a blank again on thursday. The most notable point of that day was the incredible storm that blew over and around us. Thankfully the darkening skies seemed to form around us rather than above us, and we were able to watch the lightning and rain rattling around the high ranging (up to 2800m) mountains that bind the lake.

By Friday morning, as we checked in by radio with Fraser, there was an air of inevitability about the day’s fishing - I’m of the opinion that blanking is partially a habit, and once ’set-in’, it can be hard to make those little changes that might break it. With this firmly in mind I experimented again with rigs and bait, yet tried to maintain some kind of discipline to the fishing; I didn’t want to be guilty of ‘bad science’ by changing too much, too often. The day passed quickly, in warm and muggy weather that seemed to encourage no more activity than was absolutely necessary. Similarly, it would seem, for the fish since not one of my buzzers sounded all day. With one last morning’s fishing before setting off for the airport in store, I set out in the boat at dusk and baited ‘The Dinner Table’ heavily - a last roll of the dice.

When dawn came, and my eye opened on cue at 6:19am before the alarm, I fairly shot out of the bivvy and into the boat to get the rods on the spot. We were due for a pick up at 10:30, and by 8.30 my rods were on their spots, my bags packed and out of the bivvy and sausages in the pan! Like injury time in a cup tie that your team is neither winning or losing, it seemed such a shame to draw proceedings to a close, but inevitably Fraser arrived and all the gear was loaded onto the boats. It was with a slight sense of defeat that I wound in the last rod, and not until the bait was lifted from the water that it sunk in that it was all over.

Disappointed, but not dejected, we made shore on the opposite side of the lake and trudged up to the hotel to grab a quick shower before the airport. It was a wonderful feeling, walking back into that hotel, to see smiling faces - like explorers (or pioneers, I suppose) wandering back in from wild. Chef, whose name we had so often praised throughout the week as we tucked into curried boar, or chicken tajine, gave us all a thunderous handshake and soon whipped up a sandwich to send us on our way. Hamid, the hotel owner smiled broadly and arranged beers to be brought to the pleasant lawn by the swimming pool where we chatted with hotel residents and staff alike.

I wasn’t expecting to find my spirits so lifted by their welcome, but it was hard not to feel strangely euphoric. I guess the week had been hard going, and I had tried to remain focused on the fishing despite the various ups and downs along the way, and so when that weight of hope and expectations was lifted, their friendliness and warmth acted as the perfect salve.

Bin El Ouidane may have kept it’s secrets from us well during the week, but even now I feel proud at the effort I put in, even if there was really nothing to show for it. Although, that in itself is not true: I gained immeasurable experience on those sun baked shores, and feel that whilst ‘big water’ still has a lot to teach me, I had made the first step. I could at least comprehend how one goes about catching fish from such lakes, and since the challenge seems to suit my appetite so well, next time maybe I will…

After all the excitement, and with 2 kindly donated rods to use, I slept well. As much as I felt hard done by, I could see that we had unwittingly broken the rules and were punished for it. If I’m honest it sort of added to the feeling that the odds were stacked against us, and yet there was still every chance we could come out of this winning - just one fish.

We had discussed a move back to the ‘Home bank’ if things had not improved, but with fish showing everywhere on the fish finder we decided to stay despite a blank again on thursday. The most notable point of that day was the incredible storm that blew over and around us. Thankfully the darkening skies seemed to form around us rather than above us, and we were able to watch the lightning and rain rattling around the high ranging (up to 2800m) mountains that bind the lake.

By Friday morning, as we checked in by radio with Fraser, there was an air of inevitability about the day’s fishing - I’m of the opinion that blanking is partially a habit, and once ’set-in’, it can be hard to make those little changes that might break it. With this firmly in mind I experimented again with rigs and bait, yet tried to maintain some kind of discipline to the fishing; I didn’t want to be guilty of ‘bad science’ by changing too much, too often. The day passed quickly, in warm and muggy weather that seemed to encourage no more activity than was absolutely necessary. Similarly, it would seem, for the fish since not one of my buzzers sounded all day. With one last morning’s fishing before setting off for the airport in store, I set out in the boat at dusk and baited ‘The Dinner Table’ heavily - a last roll of the dice.

When dawn came, and my eye opened on cue at 6:19am before the alarm, I fairly shot out of the bivvy and into the boat to get the rods on the spot. We were due for a pick up at 10:30, and by 8.30 my rods were on their spots, my bags packed and out of the bivvy and sausages in the pan! Like injury time in a cup tie that your team is neither winning or losing, it seemed such a shame to draw proceedings to a close, but inevitably Fraser arrived and all the gear was loaded onto the boats. It was with a slight sense of defeat that I wound in the last rod, and not until the bait was lifted from the water that it sunk in that it was all over.

Disappointed, but not dejected, we made shore on the opposite side of the lake and trudged up to the hotel to grab a quick shower before the airport. It was a wonderful feeling, walking back into that hotel, to see smiling faces - like explorers (or pioneers, I suppose) wandering back in from wild. Chef, whose name we had so often praised throughout the week as we tucked into curried boar, or chicken tajine, gave us all a thunderous handshake and soon whipped up a sandwich to send us on our way. Hamid, the hotel owner smiled broadly and arranged beers to be brought to the pleasant lawn by the swimming pool where we chatted with hotel residents and staff alike.

I wasn’t expecting to find my spirits so lifted by their welcome, but it was hard not to feel strangely euphoric. I guess the week had been hard going, and I had tried to remain focused on the fishing despite the various ups and downs along the way, and so when that weight of hope and expectations was lifted, their friendliness and warmth acted as the perfect salve.

Bin El Ouidane may have kept it’s secrets from us well during the week, but even now I feel proud at the effort I put in, even if there was really nothing to show for it. Although, that in itself is not true: I gained immeasurable experience on those sun baked shores, and feel that whilst ‘big water’ still has a lot to teach me, I had made the first step. I could at least comprehend how one goes about catching fish from such lakes, and since the challenge seems to suit my appetite so well, next time maybe I will…

Stumble it!