Ah, Bornholm – God’s own fishing grounds, or at least that’s how it feels when the sea trout are running. You ever stood on those rocky shores near Gudhjem at dawn, coffee in one hand, rod in the other, watching the vand skim across the water like it’s been polished overnight? That’s when you know it’s gonna be a good day.

Now, sea trout here – ørred, if you wanna get local about it – they’re clever buggers. Fight like they’ve got something to prove, too. Last summer, I hooked what had to be a 10-pounder near Nexø harbor (okay, maybe 8, but it felt like a submarine). Thing jumped clear out of the water three times before snapping my leader like it was sewing thread. Still dream about that one.

For flies, I’m partial to the old Pattegrisen – sort of a pinkish thing that looks like nothing in nature, but the trout go mad for it. Magnus works too, especially when the wind’s coming in from the east and the water’s got that choppy, "I can’t decide if I want to be angry or not" look. Copperbomber? Yeah, sure, but only if you’re fishing deeper pockets near Hammershus where the big girls hide.

Oh, and don’t sleep on garfish! Come April, those needle-nosed lunatics will chase anything shiny. I’ve had days near Dueodde where they’d hit a bare hook if you yanked it fast enough. Small clousers or anything that flashes like a drunk’s disco ball – just rip it back quick and hold on. They don’t fight so much as vibrate like an electric fence, you know?

Speaking of weird fights – ever hook a flounder on trout gear? Feels like reeling in a wet dishrag. But back to proper fish...

Weather tip: If the østlig wind’s been blowing for two days straight, forget the south side. Head up toward Allinge where the rocks break the current. And if you see old Jens parked his rusty bike near the bait shop, ask him about the "grå sten" spot – won’t mark it on your map, but he might point if you buy him a beer.

Gear? Pfft. I’ve caught trout on everything from a 5000-kr Hardy to a kid’s spinning rod I won at a carnival. But if you’re gonna splurge, get a line that handles wind – Bornholm’s breezes don’t mess around. And for the love of Freya, check your knots twice. Lost more fish to lazy blood knots than I care to admit.

Other stuff swims here too – cod that’ll bend your rod double, mackerel so thick in August you could walk on ‘em (okay, slight exaggeration). But trout? That’s the magic. When the light’s just right and that first tug comes... skål, my friend. Skål.