Stacks Image 120
Stacks Image 121
Stacks Image 122
Stacks Image 123
Stacks Image 124

Rain stops, well...everything

At first it looked as though the storm was going to just skim me and then pass away to the south. There was a short, sharp cloudburst, then some gentle rain, and then the sky brightened slightly and everything eased. I was fishing a big bend in the river - shallow on my side until it got about two thirds over, when it became deeper. I fished the deep run on the far side beachcaster style with rod high in a long rest. Cheese paste and luncheon meat.

I was just starting to get bites when the wind changed and drove the storm back towards me. Within minutes it was torrential, like someone throwing buckets of water at you. From horizon to horizon, the sky was iron grey.

I even stuck it out for a while huddled under my poncho, on an inflatable cushion that was rapidly deflating. Then I reeled in, grabbed my creel and puffed up the bank, intending to shelter under the trees. When I got to the top I saw the golfer's hut, a fancy wooden bus shelter affair. Almost as soon as I got inside I was joined by another angler. He hadn't even tackled up yet, poor sod. We chatted and waited for the rain to stop. It didn't. So in the end we walked back across the golf course together as the light failed. Every few minutes sheet lightning burst across the sky.

Then came this eerie wailing which genuinely put the wind up me. Apparently it's some kind of lightning alarm system for golfers, to warn them to stop and take shelter. Anglers don't have anything like that. Maybe it explains the green fees.

Of course, it was my first blank of the season.
blog comments powered by Disqus