Not far from our cabin in the countryside, there is a lake where my wife holds a lifelong fishing permit, a privilege granted for her time living and working on the land the lake belongs to. It has been nearly forty years since she worked there. The estate is called Hreðavatn and was an active farm at the time. Back then, they would occasionally go out to fetch trout from Lake Hreðavatn; she often went to set nets there, but they never went to Selvatn. I wonder if the reason was simply that the fishing there was too poor to be worth the effort? I certainly hope not, as Selvatn has the honor of being the very first lake we are fishing this summer.
For the past week, the weather in Norðurárdalur has been exceptionally good. We wanted to wet a line in the beautiful weather but didn’t allow ourselves the time; we wanted to finish insulating the storage shed we built there last summer. Finally, when we decided to head out for a bit of fishing, the wind had turned northerly, and it was no longer warm. My wife suggested Selvatn. Despite its proximity and our permit, we have never tried fishing there. Consequently, we have no idea what the possibilities are.
We approached the lake from the southwest and settled for fishing from the western, eastern, and southern banks. The terrain drops steeply down to the water on the east and west sides, where the shallows are only about a meter wide before the depth takes over completely. Behind you, there’s a very steep slope covered in thick brush, which made fly fishing nearly impossible except from the southern bank. My wife cast a lure and immediately hooked a decent arctic char, but lost it. I cast my fly a few times until my rod snapped. Yes, my Sage rod broke. From experience, I know I won’t get it back from the repair shop until the fishing season is almost over. Luckily, I’m not in total trouble as I can use my 5-weight, and I also have a heavier spare rod for those harsh days when the wind makes the 5-weight impossible to cast.
There was nothing for it but to trudge back to the car and grab another spinning rod. I then tried the southwest corner of the lake, where I hooked a nice char. Just as I had the landing net in hand and was about to land it, the fish suddenly broke free. The spinner shot out of the water and ended up embedded in my chin—and there it hung, while the fish swam away. So, I removed the hook from my own chin instead of the fish’s and kept on fishing. We didn’t see another sign of life after that and soon headed back home.
