My wife and I had a long weekend ahead of us, which we planned to spend picking berries and fishing. We knew the berry picking would be a challenge, as this season has been unusually poor. Likely, a night frost hit after the heather bloomed this spring, as we saw very few signs of berries on the plants. Regardless, we were determined to persist and fill a few buckets.
When we turned in around midnight on Friday, the outdoor thermometer stood at zero degrees. Night frosts are fast approaching; it’s high time to pick the berries before they freeze. The birch and the heather are already beginning to prepare for winter. When Saturday dawned, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky and the air was still. I decided to make a trip to the moorland lake and took the time to hike up the ridges above it. I didn’t regret the effort—the view was magnificent, and because the water was mirror-still, I could clearly see the contours of the lakebed
After a two-hour hike, I reached the shore. My first task was to sit down, enjoy a midday snack, and look out over the mirror-still lake. Usually, the brown trout don’t show themselves on the surface, but they did now—clearly chasing the flies landing on the water.
I rigged up my 5-weight rod with an 8-pound leader and a dry fly. I also readied the 8-weight with a 12-pound leader, a Teal and Black fly, and a dropper which was a bead-head Watson’s Fancy nymph. On the third cast, a trout took the dry fly just off the bank on the southern side of Réttartangi. We wrestled for quite a while, but suddenly everything went slack. That one was gone.
I continued casting from the bank for about an hour and landed two trout, 1.5 lbs and 2 lbs, both of which took the dry fly. Afterward, I walked around Réttartangi and cast where I had caught two trout back in July. After a few casts, a 1.5-pound trout took the Watson’s Fancy.
Usually, I am all by myself at the moorland lake, with only the Great Northern Divers and swans for company if my wife isn’t with me. This time, however, I saw signs of people on the hillside to the west; someone was herding sheep. I walked over to the north bank and saw a white ‘monster truck’ appear on the slope above the water. The people set up a tent.
I fished the western bank of Breiðavík, a spot where I’ve never actually caught a fish. The person who had set up the tent came down to the bay and cast into the middle of it, immediately hooking a sizable trout. I kept casting from the western bank, but nothing was happening. Which made sense—as it turned out, there wasn’t even a fly on my leader! I went to grab the rod with the dropper and cast a few times. I got a powerful strike and shortly after landed a 3.5-pound trout that took the Watson’s Fancy nymph.
I eventually struck up a conversation with the camper, and it turned out he had quite a bit of experience with the lake. His father had worked as a farmhand at the neighboring farm back in the sixties, and through those connections, he had secured permission to fish there. It was really nice to finally meet someone who knew the lake, as not many people are willing to put in the effort required to reach it and fish.
By then, I’d had my fill of fishing. I packed up all my gear and started the hike back, feeling very satisfied with the day. The final tally for the trip was four trout: two at 1.5 lbs, one 2 lbs, and one 3.5 lbs.