On a cool spring day, under a sky just beginning to shake off a long Welsh winter, Kim Waters found himself standing along the banks of the River Usk.

The air carried early season renewal, anticipation, and just enough uncertainty to keep things interesting. It was the perfect setting to welcome our guest, Kim Waters, to The Rise podcast.

Kim is the co-founder of the Welsh Rivers Union and, more importantly, a lifelong steward of the rivers he calls home. His story isn’t just about fishing; it’s about connection to water and history.

Kim’s connection to fishing started early, shaped by stories from his grandfather and a childhood curiosity about what lay beneath the surface.

“For me, it was always that mystery,” he said. “That line on the water and what’s below it. The only way to find out is to fish.”

His curiosity never faded. If anything, it deepened.

“I was told I would grow out of it,” he laughed. “But I’ve only gotten worse. I want to fish more now than ever.”

It’s a sentiment many anglers understand. Fly fishing isn’t something you outgrow, it’s something you grow into.

A River Shaped by Time and Weather

“This has been a remarkable winter,” Kim shared as we looked out over the water. “Fifty days of rain and the river has been high but now it’s starting to settle.”

That’s the nature of the Usk. It rises quickly, falls quickly, and rarely behaves the same way twice. For anglers, it demands patience, adaptability and respect.

Standing between Abergavenny and Usk, Kim describes the lower mid-river, and how the water coming into shape for early season. Dropping steadily, inch by inch daily. Kim’s experience tells him there’s opportunity, but no guarantees.

“This will be my first outing on the Usk this season,” as he gave a smile. “So, we’ll see what the river gives us.”

The First Signs of Life: March Browns

Early spring on the Usk belongs to one fly in particular, the March Brown.

It’s not a prolific hatch, unlike the explosive mayfly events of early summer. But what it lacks in numbers, it makes up for in presence.

“It’s a big, upwinged fly, full of protein,” Kim explained. “The trout love them, especially after a long winter. But you’ve got to be patient. You might wait all day for a hatch… and sometimes it never comes.”

And when it does come?

“You’ve got to be ready. It happens quickly.”

There’s something poetic about that. In a sport built on observation and timing, the March Brown rewards those willing to wait and punishes those who rush.

Lessons from the River

If there was one theme that kept surfacing throughout our conversation, it was this: slow down.

“Don’t cast,” Kim said, almost instinctively as we approached the water. “Just look.”

It’s advice that runs counter to instinct. Most anglers arrive at the river ready to fish with line in hand, eager to make that first cast. But on a river like the Usk, haste can cost you everything.

“They’ll see you before you see them,” he added.

“Instead stand still, watch and listen. Allow the river to reveal itself.”

As Kim explained, it’s a lesson learned by him and other anglers over decades.  You can’t rush it, allow the process to play out. Once it all settles in, it changes everything.

More Than Fishing: A Responsibility

Beyond the casts, the flies, and the stories, there’s a deeper current running through Kim’s work with conservation.

Through the Welsh Rivers Union, he’s been actively involved in protecting and restoring rivers across Wales. Years of environmental pressure from agriculture to pollution have taken their toll. Salmon populations, once abundant, have declined sharply. But there’s still hope.

The trout remain. The ecosystems, though challenged, are still alive. People like Kim are working tirelessly to ensure they stay that way.

“I don’t kill wild fish,” he told me. “That’s my deal. I’ll look after their home and every now and then, they can throw themselves at me on a hook.”

It’s a simple philosophy. But a powerful one.

The Magic That Keeps Us Coming Back

As Kim walked the riverbank, the conversation drifted as it often does in places like this. From fishing to family, it’s a journey that honors the past while casting forward into the future.

Kim spoke about taking his son to the river and the quiet moments at dusk walking back home across the field as the light fades.

“I’ve got two grandchildren now,” he said. “So, I’m lining them up next.”  A thread of continuity as fishing is just not a sport, but something passed down.  As anglers, we know it’s not just about the fish, but those moments on the water with those you love and cherish.

Closing Thoughts

Kim saw a few March Browns that day as the river continued to move. The birds provided air cover while the quiet rhythm of the water reminded us of something easy to forget. You don’t always need a fish to have a perfect day on the river.  Sometimes, just being there is enough.

 

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