After slogging away with a 15 foot double hander Spey-casting a 10 weight line for a week I thought that it was about time to get back to normality.
You may not have noticed but it’s been banging it down on and off for the past few weeks and of course the ground should be saturated and the rivers running sooooo high that the banks must be creaking under the weight of the water. Also it’s July and the height of summer so it will of course be scorching, nearly burning my eyes out of their sockets. So it was with no trepidation at all that I set off down the river to revel in the glory of the British summer.
Of course the telegraph pole was left in the sanctity of my home and I dusted off the trusty 2-weight magic wand and set off to the river with a spring in my step and the firm belief that it would be a glorious session.
BANG! Reality bites! This is England! No matter how much rain has fallen the river is still running low and clear with the stones on the bed of the river coated with algae and barely any current except for the faster water. In fact you wouldn’t think that it had rained! Why?
I know that the Wharfe is famous for rising quickly and dropping just as quickly, but I also reckon that those hard-up farmers have too much leeway in running the water off the rivers to irrigate their precious crops. Now I may be an old cynic but I surmise that nobody gives a monkeys arse about rivers and fishermen, except of course fishermen, so we will have to accept that we will always be the poor man to the rest of civilisation – which Is surprising as its the biggest participant sport in the world, but hey ho!
Hot and summer swelters? No chance! It was cold, windy and downright horrible so I was amazed that I actually caught some trout and grayling, but it wasn’t pleasant!
Perhaps I should give up and just fish in the hot Gulf of Mexico and Bahamas for a week a year!
Dunno – I will sleep on it!