- Joined
- Nov 16, 2020
- Messages
- 251
- Reaction score
- 416
River Two, Part Two
These images totally give the game away to anyone who has any familiarity with my second river in question. I thought I’d give the game away quickly because I wanted to make two points.
First, when talking about the Ure as River One, it was mentioned that the river was often called the Yore, certainly so in older days. I like this. For me, history plays an important part in what we do. Take vintage tackle. What a “feel” holding a century-old rod imparts. Or imagine the eager fingers that have gripped the ivory handles of an old Hardy reel. But rivers are what we are talking about, water that has flowed for millennia, and has provided sustenance, transport, defence and sport even for generations before us. The information board on St Michael’s church says it all. No wonder that the whole valley here had such a spiritual impact on me on such a winter’s day.
Second, having said that, how fast things change. The further photographs are of the same river just as it leaves a Victorian spa town. I first fished here in December twenty nine years ago and whilst I caught chub, it was salmon that made the biggest impression. All along the banks lay the carcasses of salmon dead after spawning and though I didn’t count them, there were nigh on a hundred I’m sure. Today? You’ve guessed it. Not a one.
Remember back in the first lockdown how we remarked on how nature blossomed in the relative peace and quiet? I wonder, if or when this present phase of our civilisation collapses, how long it will be before nature reasserts herself and salmon even swim this river once again?
These images totally give the game away to anyone who has any familiarity with my second river in question. I thought I’d give the game away quickly because I wanted to make two points.
First, when talking about the Ure as River One, it was mentioned that the river was often called the Yore, certainly so in older days. I like this. For me, history plays an important part in what we do. Take vintage tackle. What a “feel” holding a century-old rod imparts. Or imagine the eager fingers that have gripped the ivory handles of an old Hardy reel. But rivers are what we are talking about, water that has flowed for millennia, and has provided sustenance, transport, defence and sport even for generations before us. The information board on St Michael’s church says it all. No wonder that the whole valley here had such a spiritual impact on me on such a winter’s day.
Second, having said that, how fast things change. The further photographs are of the same river just as it leaves a Victorian spa town. I first fished here in December twenty nine years ago and whilst I caught chub, it was salmon that made the biggest impression. All along the banks lay the carcasses of salmon dead after spawning and though I didn’t count them, there were nigh on a hundred I’m sure. Today? You’ve guessed it. Not a one.
Remember back in the first lockdown how we remarked on how nature blossomed in the relative peace and quiet? I wonder, if or when this present phase of our civilisation collapses, how long it will be before nature reasserts herself and salmon even swim this river once again?
The church in the hidden valley
Shots of the ITHON just out of Llandrindod Wells...