Like a child waiting for Christmas I was during early June.
My trips to the river to feed it and to try and spot my ultimate Anker adversary the barbel continued in the run up to the fishing season opening. Being next to the water without a rod in my hand was like gawping through a Ferrari garage window without possessing a driving license. Frustrating.
I was off work on June 16th but had committed to doing some jobs around the house before I scarpered. And boy did I have to push it down. I've no recollection of what those jobs even were now but I distinctly remember the frustrating feeling of anything which did not go exactly to plan in the most expedient fashion. I was fit to burst come lunchtime.
And then away, to the middle reaches of the river with expectations sky high and a spring in my step.
My first cast of the season was probably the most prepared I'll ever be this year. For months I'd been acquiring bits and bobs for my fishing waistcoat so as not to have to remember to transfer things from my tackle bag into it when I'm off for a days roving. I had a new folding landing net purchased on a whim when the predator gear sales hit the internet around March and I'd been marinating my luncheon meat since spring.
I've had three trips to running water since the gates were unlocked and the majority of that time has been spent on ones feet and staying on the move covering ground. We've had some very bright and warm weather up here in sunny Nunny meaning I've sought shady tree tunnels and depth wherever I can find it. Clear water shallow glides are great to look at but are often devoid of fish in the midday sun of June.