At about 5.30 I disentangle my ready, anxious limbs from those of my soft, warm wife, careful not to waken her, and I tiptoe out of the room. There's usually a debate going on in my stomach as to whether I should eat anything before I go out, but I more often don't, the call of the cold outdoors is too compelling.

I cut onto the path where it runs close to my house and follow the river for a couple of miles or so towards the city. The early morning sunshine is a treat, gentle and still without any great heat built into it. Excellent cycling weather. I have to chase up through some parkland before I get to the riverbank, and by that time I'm warm. I set the gears so that I'll feel the effect of the incline hard enough in my legs to make the ride qualify as exercise, then it's downhill for a while to the river itself.

There's usually no-one around, certainly no families with children and dogs darting off in all directions, interrupting my stride. I cycle along the flat path through woods and past swampy fields that thankfully no-one will ever be able to build on. The route is familiar enough to me to let me relax my concentration without ending up in the river or the bushes. I've come to know every twist and turn, and I take time to notice the fields, the trees, the river, even the sky.

May and June are good months for watching birds. Families of ducks and swans take no notice of me and wander around the river bank, playing, squabbling and sometimes kicking up a terrible din in the process. Some of them will fly off and then come in for a splash landing further away, leaving a lengthening v shape behind them in the slow-moving, black water, and I'm conscious that I'm the only one there to see it all. Solitary herons and cranes suddenly stand out from the background of reeds when they make a move on a fish.

Sometimes I stop for a while on a bridge that crosses the river and I spend a quiet moment just looking along the narrow reach of the water, noticing fish and listening to all the other more common birds twittering away in the trees. And there are cows. Farmers graze cattle in most of the fields, and I remember that some time ago, even just 50 years away, this was rural Ireland, not just a leafy suburb of a city that has outgrown itself.

I have a favourite log, the remnant of a huge oak that fell or was felled a long time ago. It lies alone in a field, far from any other trees or bushes. Cows graze on the lush grass around it, and that's where I choose to sit and enjoy the cool movement of air on my neck. I read aloud to myself, knowing I'll not be heard. I usually read a Psalm.

“O Lord my Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth”.

Till this moment man is only evident in the building of the path, the bridge and in the shadow that I caste on the ground as I cycle along, surrounded by such a luxury of nature, but it's not too long before the first "plane arrives from London. Already hanging ominously low in the sky with the airport only a mile or so away, it announces itself with a harsh roar.

I cycle on for a bit before the first houses rise up from the bushes. The path finds its way down into the dockland, through narrow gaps between the river and the houses and factories, but I leave it at Stranmillis, just where countryside becomes town. I cycle uphill for a few miles against the flow of city-bound traffic. The city is awake by then. Children and workers are propelled reluctantly along communication corridors in cars and buses, no doubt some with sleep still in their eyes, but I"m awake and hungry, feeling the strain in my thighs and my calves.

I cycle on, ever uphill and I enjoy it. I exult in the mild pain I can sense in my legs, the sweat and the prospect of a freezing cold shower, and I rejoice that I am alive, that God has seen fit to smile upon all this magnificence, this glorious combination of man and the rest of creation.

Check to see if the choice of fly is correct

Move away, perhaps downstream just one pool and see how things go. If you are lucky/observant you will choose the fly the fish are feeding on straight away. If not then keep trying until you are catching or rising fish to the fly consistently. If the fish in your pool are rising then it is quite likely that the fish in the big fish pool, next one up, will be.

The "Stalk"

Wade cautiously towards his pool, keeping low and moving slowly and wait… wait…for a rise to appear at the point where the fish could be expected to be. Remember, big fish don't have to move far to feed. They have already bullied their way into the best feeding spot. Identify just where you want the fly to land; about half a meter upstream. A good cricketing bowler will probably make an accurate caster, watch intently where you want the fly (ball!) to land.

The cast

Make sure you are not over significantly faster or slower water. That is what will create drag. Wait for him to rise again. In order to avoid scaring him false cast AWAY from the pool, or parallel to it and only when you are confident that the fly will cover him redirect the cast ahead of the fish and let the fly land. If nothing happens let the fly drift well down stream of his lie then wait until he rises again… a fish that has risen to a natural is eager for the same success and will more readily take the artificial. Try to cover him again within 10 seconds of his rise.

The Fish is not rising

Tie on a nymph and cast well ahead of where you think he is. Watch the leader on the surface and react to any irregularity of behaviour. The movement associated with a fish taking a nymph can also cause a slight disturbance on the surface. It depends on how deep he is feeding. If you know exactly where he is then try a short, slow lift as the fly drifts toward him: The induced take. If the nymph is taken by a smaller fish from the same pool then retreat for 15 minutes before having another go at the monster.

The weather makes life interesting. Most conditions present a challenge which can be faced with an intelligent response: On a hot August day I know that the trout will be reluctant risers. There will be shady spots though where fish will feed on terrestrials - greenfly etc. Find them, and you will catch fish - with the satisfying additional challenge of tricky casting under the low sycamore and alder leaves. If fish are feeding, they can be caught.

There is though one weather condition which is the arch enemy of the river fly fisher, the wind. If there are feeding fish then it is possible to overcome the challenge and enjoy at least a little success. All other weather conditions allow the angler to put the fly on the fish with little bother but the wind, when above force three, or even force two, is a menace. It prevents the caster from putting the fly over the fish. It makes a problem of presentation, and we all know how important that is!

The very worst situation is a downstream breeze when fish are taking duns, midges etc from the surface. The situation demands an accurate upstream cast and even if you wait for a quiet moment, which often happens, the fly will be lifted off the target by a sudden gust just at the last minute. I once had a day's salmon fishing on the River Till in Northumberland. The wind blew relentlessly down the valley and casting down and across was almost impossible. I eventually fished with a 15 ft 11 weight rod (on a river of 20 metres width!) and still had problems placing the fly at the opposite bank with any kind of accuracy. Even with a brisk upstream breeze problems can occur as the wind eddies between the banks.

Have you a choice of venue?

If the wind blows from the West, as it often does in the UK, then can you fish a river which flows West? By spending a day on a Westerly flowing river you will have the wind behind you. Even on an Easterly flowing river there will be places where the river meanders around and flows West. Find a stretch of river which flows in a direction that allows a wind assisted cast.

Use the wind.

One of the problems of upstream dry fly fishing is presenting the fly without the leader being visible. I sometimes cast so that the fly turns and presents itself fly before leader because there is a curve in the leader which is cross-current. This can be achieved by casting in a manner which turns the tippet at the end of the cast - a tricky move which I have difficulty to explain but involves a side cast and stopping the cast whilst the fly is still airborne at the last second - have go and see what happens. When the wind blows downstream though a situation occurs where the gargantuan efforts of the angler still results in the delicate fly being blown downstream of the fly line. By casting well above ( 5 metres) of the rising fish and allowing the fly to be blown back, before alighting softly, quickly strip back the line (very quickly!) until the line has only a short curve back on itself; just as it covers the fish. It is difficult not to spook the fish though.

One frustrating result of fishing in windy conditions is the judgment of how much pressure to apply to the cast. A huge final cast, after an energetic session of false castings, can be met by a sudden drop in the wind which results in the fly, leader and line hitting the water with an almighty splash. If this happens wait and see if the fish is still there. If not then move on.

Choice of fly

A heavier fly will cut through the wind and has a better chance of landing where you want it to - ahead of the fish and the fly-line. Even fish that are taking surface flies, or emerging flies, can be caught with a fly just under the surface. A pheasant tail nymph with some copper wire ribbing will have a slim enough profile, be weighty enough to act appropriately and also will stay high in the water column. Too heavy a nymph will sink below the trout's feeding depth, e.g gold-head hare's ear nymph.

Last resort: Stay at home when the wind blows!