'Ey up interwebs!
With the excesses of Christmas out of the way (other than tomorrow night's more than likely alcohol-heavy celebrations) I thought it'd be as good a time as any to pop in with some news and a roundup of the last week or two.
First of all, I've now set up a Youtube channel to accompany all of the bloggy business. There isn't a great deal on it as of yet, but when the new trout season comes along in March I should be starting to post one or two short videos (hopefully of improving quality as I get the hang of shooting/editing) to add a bit of life and interest to the page. There's a link to the channel now in the blog sidebar on the right, or you can follow the link below:
So, with that out of the way, onto important meteorological matters. If you've peeked out from behind the curtains at all over the last week or two, if you live in my area at least, you'll probably have realised that the weather - as it usually does when I get some time off to actually go fishing - is playing silly buggers again! There hasn't been a period of consistant, settled weather for what seems like an age, with every likely looking day being sabotaged either by wind or rain. I haven't even considered fishing the Wharfe, as river levels have been up and down like a yo-yo, and the two short, fishless sessions I've had on the Aire both ended with me sheltering in slacks and eddies whilst the river rapidly rose without warning.
Yesterday's doomed session with the old man on the Aire and Calder Navigation after roach was perhaps the lumpy icing atop a rather suspect smelling cake though. The weather forecast had predicted an improvement in the weather - a few showers here and there perhaps, but the howling gale of the night before was set to blow itself out by mid morning. We even believed this when we arrived in mild, overcast conditions, with only the occasional sharp gust adding to the otherwise steady breeze. However, things rapidly took a nosedive with showers becoming colder, heavier and more frequent, and the wind building to the point where, when the unrelenting gale finally battered us into surrender at about half past three, it was a fight just to stay on my feet on the way back to the car. Between the three of us who were there, one sorry looking perch of about an ounce was all that was landed all day!... You had to laugh, really.
In the eternal words of one E. Blackadder, 'My life is strewn with cowpats from the Devil's own satanic herd'.
Tight lines all, and best wishes for the new year ;).