My mother river, the Derbyshire Wye, which taught me so much about dry fly fishing, is said to be only 15 miles long. In that 15 miles it changes from a moorland trickle of surface water, constantly dripping out of the blackest cauldron of peat you could imagine, to a splendid, limestone, spring-fed river full of life and beauty. I usually fish along the last few miles, where the land is fat and the river is a peaceful thing, meandering through the almost level pastureland between Bakewell and Great Rowsley. A few miles upriver the scene is quite different. The surroundings are steep sided "Dales". On several occasions I have had the privilege of fishing up here as a very honoured guest and it is a delightful place to be. There is a footpath open to the public alongside its true left bank and from time to time, in winter, I like to wander along here with a camera. Last week, hoping to aid recovery following some minor surgery, I went on such a walk and fell in love with this piece of large woody debris. A photograph simply had to be made in homage to the power of the river and this now dead, but still useful, tree.
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The Derbyshire Wye in Miller's Dale |
What do you reckon to it?
RR
RR: Beautiful snap. Best of luck with the recovery.
ReplyDeleterobert
I hope you're recovering well Rod. The picture of your river is beautiful.
ReplyDeleteNice photo. Glad too see you're blogging again.
ReplyDeleteThanks for sharing a beautiful stream--hope you are better
ReplyDelete