Don't think you'll be fishing all the time while you're over there, Ben.' How many times had I heard this in the last few days?

It was September and, as usual, I had left my holiday preparations to the last minute. We were just about to embark on a trip to arguably one of the greatest sporting events in Australia's history, the Sydney 2000 Olympic Games, and all I was worried about was finding the best hiding spot in the caravan for my eight weight. 'Just one rod?' I pleaded. 'C'mon, it can go under the bed, and don't worry, I can't wait to see all the events.'

Now don't get me wrong; I had been looking forward to this trip for years. The opportunity to see the world's elite athletes right on our very own soil was a once in a lifetime experience. However, the chance of an odd bass or two in between the swimming and the hockey was too much of an attraction. Mum admitted defeat. I was allowed to take one spinning rod and a small tackle box - nothing more.

Well, that restriction soon went out the window. To my one spinning rod I added two fly rods (hey, you never know when you might need a spare).