Scoop scoop

Sat around this afternoon, digesting my Sunday dinner, I considered my options for the rest of the day. I narrowed them down to either perusing gentleman’s websites or going fishing. Surprisingly, I opted for the latter despite the ‘dog day’ conditions outside. It was so hot that I decided a flask of Yorkshire Tea would be unwelcome on my mission, so I packed light and headed out, leaving the mice and the wasps in charge.

I arrived at my usual stretch on the Wharfe, slipped on my chest waders (to the amusement of passing motorists) and sauntered down to my favourite pool, even though I never catch anything there.

It’s called the Salmon Pool but there are no Salmon. God knows why they call it this. Ironic Yorkshire humour? Do Yorkshiremen do irony? Is this an example of irony, or, ironically, is it ironic that I’ve chosen a non-ironic example of irony? Alanis Morisette knows f*ck all about irony, I’ll tell you that for nowt.

“The Salmon Pool”

Anyway, I fished this pool, and the fast water that runs out of it using the ‘Klink and Dink’ technique. God knows if I’m doing it right, but the Klinkhammer floated and the sixe 16 GRHE sank so it looked good to me. I touched nothing. I then moved upstream to fish some riffles, and little pockets here

Fast water


Again, I got no offers. A herd of bullocks looked on, as did a solitary duck. All seemed to question my abilities – I could see it in their eyes, but bullocks to the lot of you I thought. I trudged further up the river and switched to old skool wet fly down and across

After half an hour I’d had enough, not a single offer, not even a momentary snag-up on weed that I could kid myself was maybe a fish. I hate fishing, I really do, it’s such a load of old toss. But lo! What’s this?! A swirl at my fly just as I’m about to lift off for the last cast. My dulled senses suddenly powered back on. My poise became heron-like dear reader, a study in concentration and observation. Sort of. But I did eventually hook and land a little brown trout of about 6oz . Small trout, but a big smile on my face.

I moved further down this pool, towards the tail and put my flies out towards the middle with the intention of letting them swing back round but there was an instant ‘jagjag’ as a larger fish had a go. He was on for about a second, then my goldhead pinged out and landed at my feet. Recast, same place, yoink he’s on again! My little 8 and a half foot rod was getting a good old workout, especially with the strong current, but all went to plan and my newly aquired scoop net was deployed and promptly christened.  Here he is, possibly the most welcome fish of this year.

Wharfe brownie

I tried to get one last picture, and ended up with the picture you see below. Classic.

See ya…

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