I wonder if the trout in the moorland lake have their minds on something other than feeding once August comes to an end? I haven’t tried fishing the lake in September very often, but on the few occasions I have, the results haven’t been great. On the first Saturday of September, I made a trip to the lake. The conditions were exactly what my father-in-law used to call ideal: a strong southwesterly wind. He always said that in those conditions, the trout would move right into Veiðivík.
I didn’t start in Veiðivík, though. Instead, I walked straight to the cliff south of Grunnavík. I began casting there but didn’t see a sign of life. I fished my way into the bay north of the cliff; there was one single strike on the lure, but only that once. I continued south toward the spawning grounds, where I waded quite far out into the lake toward the Great Northern Diver islet (Himbrimahólminn). I cast repeatedly as I made my way north and soon caught one small trout. I tied it with a string to the loop on my waders because I didn’t feel like wading all the way back to shore. Soon after, I realized the trout was gone. The knot had come undone.
After fishing for a while longer, I swung my backpack on and walked north along the bank. I wanted to see if the trout had indeed moved into Veiðivík. I stopped along the way to eat dinner, and as I stood up to continue, I spotted the trout I had lost. As it turned out, it had drifted along the exact same path I had been walking. I then fished for a while in Veiðivík, Breiðavík, and on the bank west of Breiðavík, but didn’t get a single hit.
I didn’t give this trip too much time and headed back around nine o’clock. I was quite pleased with my stamina, as I felt fine during the hike. However, once I sat down to rest after the walk, I was hit by an absolutely agonizing leg cramp. From now on, I must make sure to drink enough water on these trips. I definitely don’t want to go through that again.
