Honestly, right now I feel like just giving up. The story behind this frustration began when I bought a new fly rod because I broke the tip of my Sage rod last year. After waiting a full year for Sage to send a replacement tip, I gave up and bought a high-quality Orvis rod from Vesturröst. Literally the day after, the dealer for Sage called to offer me a brand-new rod at a discount because they could no longer source the material for my old one. So, suddenly, I owned two great 8-weight rods. On my first outing with the new gear, I discovered my waders were leaking. Since fishing while soaked is miserable, I decided to buy new waders, financing them by selling the Sage rod.
My wife and I are currently neck-deep in building our summer house in Borgarfjörður, so it wasn’t until this past Sunday that I finally made my first trip to Lake Þingvallavatn—equipped with the new rod and wearing the new waders. It doesn’t get better than that. The weather, however, was nothing to cheer about: rain and a stiff southerly breeze. Still, I felt great because I was dry in my new waders, and casting the new rod was a pure joy despite the wind. I started at two spots south of Arnarfell that I know occasionally yield fish. Seeing no sign of life, I decided to walk south along the eastern bank toward Miðfell, planning to fish my way back slowly.
I’ve noticed lately that my balance isn’t what it used to be. Because of that, I’m extra careful at Þingvallavatn; the bottom is treacherous—rocky and prone to sudden drop-offs where you can easily lose your footing. I’ve even started using a wading staff I won in a lottery at the Reykjavik Angling Club’s open house thirty years ago. So, I began fishing, moving from one spot to the next heading north. At one point, I nearly tripped while wading toward the shore. I thought to myself: These are exactly the conditions that make this lake dangerous. Suddenly, it felt as if someone had pushed me. I tumbled backward like a football player, crashing into the water.
Water gushed in through the collar of my jacket and down into my waders. I scrambled up quickly, thinking bitterly that buying new waders hadn’t helped much after all. I arrived home soaking wet, but then came the real shock: the tip of my brand-new rod had snapped in the fall. Hmm, now we’ll see how the service at Vesturröst and Orvis measures up.