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The clouds lifted as we walked up to the first pond, and the brightened shallows of the mud flat before us were suddenly alive with dozens of waking dark shapes.
There’s an endless supply of rivers and coastline around this place, an inspirational mess of water to pick apart. Sounds like a fun project to me.
Anglers and trout are both masters of efficiency, and have an uncanny skill to survive and thrive on as little as possible.
This inevitably came with a drastic change of scenery, a great deal of culture shock, and, pertaining to this blog, a considerable decline in world class year round fly fishing waters.