Holiday on the Wark's Avon, Day 4 - Bleak Prospects

This damnable fishing challenge wreaks the most peculiar effects in a fisherman's perceptions of the natural order in things of importance. Last year at this very spot I was chasing the bewhiskered royalty of the river, now I was battling to locate the pearly kings of the stream, the ever so umble bleak, and not only that, I was pursuing them in deadly earnest. Strange days...

Holiday on the Wark's Avon, Day 3 - A Monstrous Intrusion

Day three of my ever diminishing challenge chances dawned and I was up on the point gunning after the curiously elusive bleak, as early as possible. There simply had to be some bleak somewhere in the mighty breadth of water out front, Kev had caught plenty of them last year right here and under the rod top, so they should be still be out there somewhere, surely?

Holiday on the Wark's Avon, Day 2 - Expect the Unexpected

Quite unintentionally we'd pitched the tent with the opening directly in line with the rising sun. I woke with the first sunbeams burning my eyes out and unwillingly dragged myself out of bed to go fish, and as I'd had only just finished a weird dream of bream, I would go fish for them.

Holiday on the Wark's Avon, Day 1 - Reconnaissance is Never Wasted Time

We arrived last night, just as light faded, but pitched the tent all the same, in relative comfort. This year, we pitched on the camp site rather than on the island, when the owner expressed his wishes that we didn't.... Complaints apparently, from boat people, most probably...

I took a reacquaintancing walk down to the river and saw a few white vans parked behind swims which can only mean the one thing at Anchor Meadow - barbel anglers hoping to capitalise upon the ten till midnight feeding spell. I decided not to join them but stayed at camp and sank a few beers.