Thieving Aliens

When I got out of the car by the river a vicious northerly damn near sliced me in two. It hadn't felt that bad at home. I quickly piled on the layers and set off towards the bottom of the stretch. I had to stop and remove a layer half way down as I was now too warm. The river had cleared up quite a bit since last weekend and looked quite promising. The wind, though, was strengthening and blowing straight downstream. Flicking a couple of weighted nymphs upstream proved easier-said-then-done. never mind trying to spot bites.

After about an hour with nothing to show for my efforts I found a slightly sheltered spot. After a warming cuppa I proceeded to fish through it. After a missing a couple of plucks, I latch on to a little silvery thing. Which was almost immediately grabbed by a big silvery thing which shot straight past me and under the trailing branches of a far bank tree where everything went solid. Heaving it out wasn't working so I gave it a bit of slack and crossed over the river. As I got onto the bank there was a great swirl under the tree. I tightened up again and could see one of the nymphs attached to a branch. It was clear the fish was gone, taking the point fly with it. I suspect the culprit was one of the large feral rainbows that in habit thee parts.

Tying on another fly I continued on, upstream, for another hour with out a touch. By this time I was in sight of the car and it was starting to rain. By the time I reached the car it had turned to hail stones then sleety rain. Sitting in the car with a cuppa and sandwich I had a sudden attack of common sense, watching the Grand Prix in a nice warm house  was what I should be doing.