We were on the lowest beat of a favourite tributary to the mother river. It is a gin-clear, limestone spring-fed river that runs over bright gravel. The fish are feisty in this section. You can get an idea of how feisty some of them can be by the name of this corner run... "Hook Straighten Bend" (Say it out loud quickly...)
|Hook Straighten Bend!|
|Not Safe to Walk On!|
Wellingtons tipped out, trousers and socks removed and wrung out, expletives at a minimum, the angler restored himself to his personal comforts as best he could in the circumstances. Another, undisturbed ambush point was sought and the day's sport continued. We even found a rather splendid feather from a heron, perfect for Kite's Imperial.
It's hard work on this little river. The fish are impossible to catch if they know you are there. It really is a matter of approaching on hands and knees and sitting, or at least kneeling, to fish. Time flies when you are enjoying yourself, even when somewhat damp. Operations were ceased at a Baker's Dozen and home to tea around 19:00. We had a great time.
|What Next Dad?|