A year in fishing, Jeremy Paxman dreams

Jeremy Paxman: Newsnight presenter for the BBC, writer, journalist and well travelled fisherman.

I once met a man while I was fishing in Ireland. The moment he introduced himself I knew his name was familiar. I had seen it on page after page of the record books. This man caught serious numbers of seriously big sea-trout. How did he do it? I asked. His reply was laconic. 'Ah. It's not sot so difficult if you have time.' It turned out that he spent six months of every year fishing. No wonder he caught lots of fish.

Time of course, is the one thing that most of us do not have. Or rather, there seems a pretty iron rule. When you have the time to go fishing, you don't have the money. And when you have the money, you don't have the time. So, let's dream about the perfect year.

I think I should begin the year hunting for trout in New Zealand. I've not been there yet, and the streams you can hike into and camp beside attract me, as much as the lodges and stuffed lakes. From there, in February, I should move to Chile. I once spent ten days fishing a grasshopper on rivers like the Cisnes or the Nirehuao and the combination of fierce wild fish and stunning mountain scenery has never left me.

In March or April I would fly to the Caribbean for some saltwater action. Although I have been lucky enough to catch bonefish, permit and tarpon, I have never done so on the same day. My guide in Cuba once described the reaction of a well-known fishing writer when he achieved his Grand Slam. 'E went crayzy, sir. 'ee dance all over the beach.' I think I should like to learn that dance. Venezuela and Mexico spring to mind.

May is the time to be trout-fishing in England. If the government's next interference in the lives of its citizens was to tell us we were rationed to one type of fishing, trout-fishing on a dry fly is what I should choose. And I have yet to come across anywhere in the world where it is better than in England.

Straight after getting my fill, I should head for Russia. The fishing camps have become more and more comfortable over the years and the rivers are yielding vast numbers of salmon. There is such an abundance of fish that you feel, frankly, no pressure.

In the middle of July you would find me fishing in Iceland. It may be ludicrously expensive, and the fishing hours are punishing but the solution is to share a rod.

As we'd be halfway there, I'd then fly on to the States. Having read volumes on the famous trout rivers of Montana, Colorado and Wyoming, I have a yearning to find fish in this glorious setting.

By September, I think one wants to be back in Western Europe, either taking advantage of the conditions in Ireland on the little spate rivers of the west coast, or catching a ride on the autumn salmon run in the highlands of Scotland.

There is something elegiac about the end of the salmon season when the leaves drift downriver and you know that soon it's all going to end for another year.

Jeremy Paxman