Another fishy tale

I think today we will be moving on, the weather is not good and Pat is getting bored, there is no-one to talk to, the shops are ten miles away and I have been fishing every day. Paradise for many a bloke.

Having said that, I think that this weekend will see the campsite overrun with children and holiday makers. Wednesday I walked the river bank for about a mile, checking out where the big fish might be, I found many a likely looking spot but saw only mullet and lots of them. I fished a spot where the Dwyfach and Dwyfor join for a couple of hours but apart from a couple of kingfishers I had no entertainment. On my return to the campsite I went to fish the pool at the top of the field and the action was none stop. I caught ten fish in just over an hour, at last I seemed to be getting it together.

Needless to say, I went to bed feeling very pleased with myself. Thursday, I went out to the same spot at the same time with exactly the same set up and caught one fish in about two hours. So how does that work? I tried different flies and techniques, the fish were rising continually but the word was clearly out that Taylor the trout basher was about. So it seems to me that I still have a great deal to learn about trout and this fly fishing game. Perhaps I am in need of a mentor, someone who knows my frustrations and pleasure. When I go out on these little forays I would love to take my proper camera with me, I do see some great potential shots but it is my luck that I would take an untimely swim and ruin my pride and joy.

Salmon parr or trout?

Sunday we both felt the need for a change of scenery, we had been static for a week, so we left and stopped a little further along the coast when we found this little spot. No pay and display here I might add. This is only about 5 miles down the coast from where we had been and I wonder why we have never found it before.

We continued on to Llanystumdwy and I could not wait to get out the fly rod once again. Monday however, the weather was far from ideal and the fish were not very active, except for one. It was a large trout of about 10 inches in length and it jumped a good 18 inches into the air then landed with a loud splash, I tried for an hour or so to catch it but I never saw it again. Tuesday I fared a little better with two more trout on the score card, (now running at eleven) but it has to be said that I did have to work hard and had some help.

Meg has been getting increasingly lazy of late and so I took her along with me. At first she wandered around the bank and adjacent field looking for food but when she found none she decided to have a look at what the river had to offer. She reminded me of a Grizzly bear, patrolling up and down in the water and staring into the depths. Every now and again she would try and bat something with a paw and then push her nose two inches under water, but she was not doing any better than I was. A couple of times she got my line tangled around her feet and stumbled about a little and at one point, whilst rolling in the grass, she fell into the river, head first and upside down. When she stood up, she looked at me as if I had pushed her. That was it, she went a lay twenty feet away and turned her back on me. She thinks that we are married.

I continued to fish trying different tactics and different spots and was finally rewarded with a fish, about half an hour later a second fish. I tried to determine whether these fish were indeed Trout or Salmon parr, I have researched this on the Internet and the two are very similar. I have several photographs and I have to say that at least some of the fish I have caught are Salmon parr. Either way they are lovely little fish and I have been very careful not to harm any, having said that, if I catch any Trout the size of a dinner plate they may well get a free tin foil shroud. So, have a look at the next photograph, I would be interested to hear opinions, expert or otherwise. So be careful and fly fishing tips welcome.

Light Show

Last Friday we left Criccieth and made our way North to Caernarfon, we spent last weekend there and had a very enjoyable time. We went to the North Wales agricultural show and stayed at Bethel overnight. There was not anywhere that I could fish so the camera was put to much use. Sunday we had a look at Llanrwst and met up with our Dutch friends, Willem and Wilhelmina. We agreed to move to the coast just south of Caernarfon and spend a little time together. So over the last few days I have done a little walking with Willem and I have tried to fish but with no success. The weather has been mixed but warm with significantly more rain than we have grown accustomed to of late.

Whilst walking the other day, I came across these two, I haven't seen them for years. I remember when we were small, we used to catch a few of these pretty little moths and keep them in a jam jar, with a lid made of paper full of pin holes and held on with a rubber band. My Mom didn't like the little critters that we would bring home and usually made us keep them outside. That of course was before Nintendo and other modern wizardry.

I love the skies here, I have hundreds of photographs of them that I have shot over the years, I would be hard pressed to find a favourite but it is not just the colours, the sky seems so big. So, it has been a very relaxing week but I fear with the school summer holidays rapidly approaching it will soon become very busy and it may be time to get the wheels rolling once more.

Brown Trout and bullocks

Sundays car boot sale did not produce the bargains that we had hoped for, but we did meet up with our friends Andy and Pip and as always it was great to see them again. Andy was selling (he likes to dabble in antique type junk) but we just had a nose around until we could take no more. At 1130 we headed off to Llanystumdwy near Criccieth (birth place of Lloyd George) where Andy and Pip would meet us later. We had a very scenic drive over the mountains and arrived at about 1400 hours. Pat prepared an evening meal which we all promptly scoffed as soon as Andy and Pip arrived. It had been a long day with a pre-0500 hours start and we were all knackered, so it was early to bed.

I didn't sleep well, it was a hot and humid night, so at 0400 hours I armed myself with my fly fishing tackle and set off to do battle. Almost two hours later, 0550 I hooked and landed my first wild brown trout. What a feeling........what a beautiful little fish, I was elated. I removed the hook and returned it gently to the river. Within the hour I had my second fish.........I can not express what a sense of achievement I felt. Now, if I had put the two fish side by side on a plate I would have been hard pushed to make a fish finger, they were only about 4 inches long, but I didn't care I was ecstatic. The day was getting warmer and we just sat about all day chatting and kicking back, then in the evening I went off to the river again. Two more trout, maybe the same two, they were certainly the same size, but again I felt fantastic. The night was long and hot, none of us slept well and so at first light I was back in the river pursuing this very flighty new quarry. A couple of hours later I returned to the vans with two more fish on the score card. Later in the morning Andy and I had a walk to the sea with the hope of doing some damage to the fish stocks for tea, sadly, all we caught were three dog fish which we returned. Tuesday we all had a trip into Porthmadog for a couple of hours and returned to the site exhausted by the heat. By the end of the day I had notched up a new total of six trout and was still flying high on the feeling. Wednesday Andy and Pip departed, bound for Towyn, they like it there. We stayed put and I caught two more trout before they left, score card now running at eight. Now I was getting to grips with this most subtle discipline of fishing, I needed a bit more of a challenge. A little way down stream is an old road bridge, underneath looked like a good holding pool for bigger fish. The far bank was gently sloping pasture but I could only fish from the camp site bank as I don't hold the necessary permit to fish from the other. It was a bit of a hairy climb down the old stone bridge walls but I descended the eight feet or so safely. Once standing between the arches I looked around, the arches were fenced off and both banks were indented with hoof prints, lots of them. But there was very little bank to fish from on the side I was on as it was heavily overgrown with trees and fenced off to keep the horses behind me safely penned in. Casting was difficult to say the least, no room to back cast you see. So I found the roomiest spot between two of the arches and sat on the silt and did my best. I wasn't having much success, I missed a few bites. I was baking in the sun and getting a muddy wet backside and a little uncomfortable when I heard, in the distance cows "mooing". I looked in the direction of the sound and saw about 6 cows descending the opposite pasture. I carried on fishing...........I then heard the "mooing" again, this time accompanied by a muffled thunder-like sound. When I looked again the cows, which I could now tell were bullocks were about 50 metres away and running. Safely separated by the river, I continued to fish. When I looked again to see what all the noise was about they were in the water, still running and bellowing quite loud, in fact two were only ten metres away. Now throughout my life I have faced some aggressive situations, been fired at by terrorist's, petrol bombed and threatened by enraged felons wielding knives and clubs, I have always stood my ground and defended myself. Here however, armed with only a light weight fly rod and some imitation flies I felt a bit vulnerable. "Keithy", I thought, "This is not the time nor place to get stuffed with several beef sausages and renamed Daisy" so I showed them a muddy arse and the soles of my wellies as I slipped and scrambled my way up the old stone walled bridge. I stood on the wall of the bridge and looked down into the eyes of these sex crazed beasts, as I gasped for breath, I could feel them thinking "next time Daisy dear". I slowly made my way back to the van and I was thinking to myself "People will call you a wimp". Well call me a wimp if you like, but just imagine, if there is an after-life how would I have explained that to my dearly departed Mom. Beef sandwiches for tea I think.

Moving

It seems like we have been static for so long, but we are on the move again. Today we travelled to Oswestry, which is a frequent stop over point for us en route to the welsh coast and it is likely that we shall stay in the locality until Sunday afternoon. There is a fantastic car boot sale held close by on Sundays and we would both like to visit that before moving on. I am looking forward to trying my fly fishing technique, I have been very unsuccessful with other forms of fishing so I am hoping that this will change things for me.

Pain relief

I can't believe that it is June already, where does the time go? Again the week has been quite busy, I have been working on a few family portrait photographs that I have taken and Pat has been manufacturing more jewellery we have caught up with a few friends from our previous and less desirable life in the rat race, some of which looked very well and some which looked quite ill. There was a hectic family celebration over the weekend (Saturday) for our eldest granddaughter who is now nine years old, her Mom made the most wonderful cake on which the candles would not stay lit in the balmy summer breeze and Rupert the young Yorkshire terrorist had a feast cleaning up on discarded morsels from the barbecue. Sunday we went and raided the local car boot sale and returned with quite a haul of "booty" one item of which was a new radio/CD player for the truck. Under normal circumstances I would not buy electronic items from a car boot sale, but this guy seemed honest and genuine. I have since fitted the radio and it is marvellous, remote controlled too.

Well, since our stay in Criccieth I have been tolerating severe pain in my right shoulder and numbness in my right arm, probably caused by fruitless and frantic fishing forays, during the week I visited the doctor who had great sympathy and gave the useful advice to take paracetamol, brilliant aren't they, my nine year old granddaughter would have told me that. A nearby friend is a physiotherapist and on Sunday, in desperation, after hearing me whinge relentlessly for weeks Pat went and asked her if she could perhaps help me. Well for a good half an hour or so I was subject to torture at the hands of this very kind lady. (Strange how onlookers bear such a broad grin) and she said that she would return on Monday with some acupuncture needles if I didn't object. By now, I was desperate and would probably have agreed to amputation without anaesthetic. Monday saw me hobbling around the shops like Quasimodo's apprentice carrying a bunch of flowers for my saviour and if the worst came to the worst they could have been placed at my headstone. At 1700 hours the sport began. I sat slumped over the table and had 16 needles stuck in various parts of my back, shoulders and hand none of which caused me any pain or even discomfort. We all chatted for 15 or 20 minutes while the magic needles did there work. I then had a further 8 or 9 needles inserted directly into the point of pain, Oh my God...............did they hurt? I think that they had been preheated to red hot on the gas ring. Another 15 minutes or so and they were removed. Did I feel any better? Boy, you bet I did, mere muscle spasm pain was heaven compared to those little red hot devils of Chinese torture. Now I know there are those of you out there who will doubt the magic of this ancient art form, well let me tell you................it did absolutely nothing for me except stimulate the tear ducts and the desire to express high volume and random expletives, but don't let my experiences put you off, you may well get some sort of distorted pleasure from such agony. We both thanked our friend for her efforts, gave her the flowers and I then sat speechless for half an hour while the sweat and tears dissipated along with any thoughts that I had about groaning. Sometimes.................it is better to suffer in silence. Do you get the point?

Waiting for summer

The week has passed quickly again but we have done very little. Monday we attended a fund raising function in a nearby restaurant and on Wednesday we were invited to give a talk to a local ladies group about life in a motor home. It was a little daunting, stood in front of 60 or so ladies with no idea of what they wanted to hear. We began explaining the reasons why we took early retirement and chose this lifestyle of ours and very quickly we felt fairly comfortable. Before we new it, it was time to finish off, the comments that we subsequently received were very encouraging and rewarding.

On Wednesday afternoon we were going to move to a nearby CL but decided against it for a while longer, so here we are, still sat on the drive at the house and beginning to feel that summer is never going to arrive again.