THEY say that angling is not just fun or a sport, but with many it is an all-consuming passion. I'm a great believer in passion. If somebody is enthusiastic about something and can communicate that enthusiasm, that's great by me.

If, say, it is some chap's thrill to make scale models of the Eiffel Tower out of used matches and he can make it sound interesting, strength to his elbow. It is wonderful to see what can be done by those who feel passionate about something and I can think of no better example of this in the angling world than those members of the Avon Angling Club.

I was lucky enough to be invited to the club's first Open Day last weekend, held in conjunction with the annual junior competition, and it was a credit to all concerned. There was no shortage of things to see and do and there had been a huge amount of hard work put into the organisation of the day.

I had been invited by the River Management convener, Jimmy Delaney. I'm sure Jimmy is a man who, rather than blood, has the water of the Avon coursing through his veins, such is his enthusiasm and passion for the river.

The day's entertainment was held at Craigmill, near Strathaven and had started around 9am, when the junior fishers competition had got under way. Many and varied were the methods employed in trying to catch the brown trout that had recently been stocked and fish were coming regularly to the net. And there was plenty for those not fishing to see and do.

The club has a hatchery at Craigmill - again a building which is a testament to enthusiasm and passion. Jimmy showed the photographs chronicling the development of the hatchery from its small beginning to its present size.

In the tanks, thousands of tiny brown trout were being grown on for later release into the Avon and its tributaries. Rearing fish is a notoriously difficult and time-consuming operation, but the members of the club are willing to sacrifice their leisure time to making the hatchery a success. There was a video showing the work involved in finding fish to stock the hatchery.

Electro-fishing the burns for brood stock is again time-consuming, not to mention the stripping of eggs and milt and the care of the delicate newly-fertilised eggs. Water flows have to be monitored and success demands a huge amount of time and effort.

In the mill itself - a working mill until not so long ago, and now in the process of restoration - there were several benches where expert fly-tiers were giving demonstrations of their art.

I never cease to marvel how a few disparate items - a bit of a feather, some thread, a bit of floss - can be fashioned into a replica of a natural insect. I watched as some green floss was wound on to a hook, dampened raffia tied in and folded up to the eye, tied in and there you have a damsel-fly nymph. Some visitors were trying for themselves and more than one person walked proudly off clutching their first ever self-tied fly.

In a field by the mill I could see a couple of dozen balloons on the ground. Closer inspection revealed them to be part of a casting competition. Entrants were using a spinning rod and trying to burst the balloons using a Flying C lure. There was also a board with a space cut out, through which the river bailiffs stuck their heads and were pelted with wet sponges. I hope it was only wet sponges as the legend on the board read - ''six sponges for 20p - half bricks - #10''. Great fun and a chance to get your own back on those bailiffs who make sure that the rules of the river are upheld.

By mid-afternoon, the angling competition was over and an impressive display of prizes had been handed out to the young boys and girls who had taken part. There were some impressive bags of trout and the many happy smiles showed that the anglers had enjoyed their fishing. The last entertainment of the day was a duck race. People had bought a yellow plastic duck with a number on it.

When all the ducks had been sold, they were put into a huge plastic bag and Jimmy and I went upstream to the foot of the fishpass in the weir. The ducks were emptied into the river and the first to reach the second bridge was the winner. A great sight seeing all those yellow ducks bobbing down the river, and a great way to end a successful first open day.

For the president of the club, Jim McAloon, and Jimmy Delaney and his fellow members, the day must be classed as a success and all due to the hard work of many people. As Jimmy and I leaned over the bridge looking down at the Avon, Jimmy swore that next year's event would be bigger and better. And that, coming from someone with such a passion for his beloved river, means it probably will.