When it's too hot to fish...

Mid-summer, half the season gone, and it’s too hot to fish. I went down to the river yesterday at 11am, and fished through the hottest part of the day before going home at the point when it probably started to become worthwhile. But then I can’t just sling a fly line out of my bedroom window like some lucky anglers. I live in Ely, north of Cambridge, and have to travel over half an hour, and over the border into Essex, to get to my bit of river. So I have to fish when the opportunities arise, and yesterday that meant fishing when most self-respecting trout clung to the bottom, refusing all offerings. One heat crazed trout grabbed hold of a black klinkerhammer, but otherwise there was nothing doing.

They say the next best thing after fishing is talking about it. And near to that must be writing about it. So while the trout are riding out the heat wave, I’ve decided to start my flyfishing blog. I'll tell you about my bit of river another day - right now I need to lie down with a cold flannel...