Where to Look for Trout

The river looks like a indomitable River. She vomited mud and detritus, scolds his anger, Brown rage, barreling blindly, overflowing with fury… We are fighting retreat, in the face of a such outburst. And we fall back through the bushes, looking for a quieter place to fish. We make our, as well as a path, in a jumble of Brambles, of reeds, the pretentious young grass, and old trees martyred by successive floods. It is how we spend under a branch is bracing to the ground, such the Stargate. I hope secret that it leads us to another world in search of trout. And will be answered soon.

The pursuit of happiness

We manage at the edge of a stream with clear water. The river ton always a few steps. We wonder about the merits to follow when an Aboriginal person appears, oddly tricked out of a giant knitting as a belt. My guide and exchange a few words in the dialect sinner, whereby I don’t hear anything. I politely welcome departure of the character, adorned in a superb hat. (No doubt a kind of Shaman?) And we continue our new itinerary. My Scout explains, it is futile to try to take our chances, where our predecessor already worked, but that there is still, food for fish, pushing up a branch line that had not been borrowed…

At the first turn, the Creek turns into a long quiet way, without a wrinkle. But stagnant not! The transparency of its waters, forms a striking contrast with the Ain whose sound fades away. We see at the bottom of clear sand, a few white pebbles, and grass beds, as if by reaching out we could seize them. Yet it’s gotta be, 1 m deep. Only aquatic plants color of some emeralds reflections, the ambient clarity. The surrounding vegetation is so lush that I immediately feel, a Virgin place, except, a narrow passage between the tall grass, left by that we ran into. Certainly a resurgence, said the master.

No insect, no FRY, frog no, nothing. This place would be devoid of life?
And suddenly, we see, in the middle of the bed, perfectly still and indifferent to our presence. Its long beak reveals his species: a Pike of at least 60 cm. And it has something unusual to observe this animal, usually fierce in this limpid desert. With so little apparent food, I think that he probably a football, and he’ll throw himself on our lures. But the first launched, it has no reaction. On the second, he draws back a few centimetres, embarrassed by the passage. In the third, in the face of a swimmer noisemaker fish, he takes to his heels!This behavior seems to me absurd: why, this beast doesn’t scare is not in our view, and fled before our bait? Precisely because he saw us, says Chief: he is alert, will pitch if he is forced, but not in the mood to get distracted.

Mission commando

Then we continue our journey up to the indicated line. Here, we opt for the Wilder, less frequent side?Herbs eventually invade the body of water. Its width shrinks to less than 2 m instead of 4 about initially.Also, the depth is reduced up to 40 cm. The instructor is concerned no longer find fish in an area so little deep and almost marshy. So we are about to find a passage to cross and reach the other arm. When it is discovered, almost as big as the previous, and always the guard you in right in the bed of the watercourse.I hope a moment he saw us. No shudder to tortoiseshell don’t give me the impression. I try once, twice.And while the Pike escape, a nutria leapt on my lure, at my feet! In a split second, he sees me give up and back. So much the better! I would have done what, me with a rat at the end of my line? I don’t know if you’ve already seen the incisors closely, this beast? 5/6 cm well sharpened, I leave you the of down me.But what is this crazy country, where fish snub us and the coypu attack us? Wise said that given the lack of visible food, the rodent that he didn’t see us, wanted to take advantage of our opportunity.

The white and sandy bottom is replaced by mud, where I’m afraid to bogged down me. Seeking eyes a place to cross the River, we discover a fairly low, formerly electrified fence that pierces through and through, our water point, to sink on each side into a dense forest. Unusual, this element of civilization in the middle of a corner lost. I’m looking for the look a sign, a pasture, cattle, to no avail. The expert think a summer club pony. But I’m still doubtful. I see a half horses grazing among the trees harm.

Not equipped with waders, unlike my initiator, I end up riding a dead trunk to finally win the other side. And here, I take a cold sweat when realized me that if I slip or fall, I might make me very wrong in so little water, about 1 m 50 high. I control my breathing too short, I’m trying to control the panic that wins me, do not turn the eye, is not having its vapors. I decided to take my time, rather than give in to panic. And it happens! PFF, I sweat here. Not by the effort but by fear.

The breadcrumb

We almost run to get to the branch line, and finally fish. A breadcrumb trail any one bank, to height of bushes, as to delimit one side. For whom, for what? My sherpa thinks a clumsy fisherman. But the link along the place on a good kilometre. Weird. We continue to find Pike of all sizes, who all will refuse our offerings. It must be said, that overlooking, bed, we discovered well before have spotted them… No chance in as pure water. And still no sign of any fish fodder. But what they eat? Frog, answer me, my companion-But, you see, have you? -There are in surely in such a place! As to support his words, a rather mournful cry is heard. What was it? -A frog! I look at it, skeptical. I can’t find that sounds like the call of a frog. But I keep my thinking for me.

Concentrated to pull the wire which tag the shore, that I can break at regular intervals, unless it releases secret, I’m losing sight momentarily. When I straighten, I no longer see it. And I’m afraid again. And if he was gone, leaving me alone, in this desolate place? If the Stargate had prevailed elsewhere? Worried, I call it, without doubt, a little strong. It comes quickly, thinking that I finally one made and is furious to have been disturbed for nothing…

We want to go, but as to change the Bank again, it brings me on his back. And as it is kids, and I’m not particularly a weight pen, it’s a moment of crazy laugh.
We fish again, rhetorically, but now we know that you cannot fool the inhabitants of its too clear waters.The only nibble on our soft baits are Minis Pike of 10/15 cm, out of herbaria, at all speeds and returned as dry! Leaving us dumbfounded by both claim and daring!

Finally, I see in the distance, a couple of? I don’t know, looks like ducks, but it is white as the swans, with a flamboyant red beak. They drift on the River, letting himself be carried away by the low current. From time to time, one plunges the ass in the air, to look for food in the water. As we approached, I see a little black and Brown on their plumage. I make the mistake, appeal to the man so that he photographed. They heard me, and also fly dry, passing just above our heads. Larger than a green collar, a lot of white and a very red beak, without a cry. Very curious. Mr. also, struggling to identify them. Probably escaped from the Park of birds? Suggest t – it.

A latest discovery waiting for me at my feet: a bone of forearm type. To identify the type of animal to which it belonged, I watch him up close and… O see stupor! A third bone connected to the joint? Ulna, radius, and the third? The Holy Spirit? Excited, I hail him again to make him part of my finding in the field of the strange, from outside. And there, he said, stoic: Yes, a folded wings!

 

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