One should not offer his fellow workers ever-wailing letters, even though the carcass is not quite as you would like it to be. However, I am now going to allow myself to start this story with a few complaints. Then promise never to mention this again. Quarterly people are boring and boring one does not want to be unless absolutely necessary. About three months ago, someone got bored in my back. It has happened so before this time the pain did not appear to be improving. He just agitated, jumped from hip to hip, down to patches and seemed to be spreading everything. As the fishing season began, the pain started to run in my mood too. Of course, it is the worst. I started doing all kinds of back exercises and stretches on the living room floor at home in the hope that I could reverse this nasty development. Everything did not happen and I was flattered that the authorities were going to destroy the pleasure of hunting and outdoor activities this summer.
On June 17, though, I had a chance to give it a try. Went to Thingvallavatn and now the water did not go well in my back. I moan about it exhilaratingly and breathlessly, and every step of the way. Those who have given in the water know how the bottom is in most places. Now, nine days later, things are different. This week I started to feel a change in my back. Certainly my back is still plaguing me, but it is a great relief to find that I can enjoy fishing. I managed to say that the head fell twice without getting stabbed. The second time actually into the water so that it was a soft landing. It is true that the pain trip on June 17 was excellent physiotherapy.
Now I have eased my mindset and can start narrating this fishing trip. I think I have tried to hunt for most of the possible fishing grounds that belong to the national park. One place, however, was always left behind, but it is the Olafsdrag itself. At that fishing spot you can't go fishing after July 1st, so if I was going to finish the ring in the summer then it is no later than good to hurry. I parked the car in the middle of Arnarfell and walked north until I could turn west down to the water. There, we hit the most favorable fishing area and not so tight that it was not possible to throw a fly. I headed west with the Arnarfell until I could no longer get there. Threw the fly peacock several times and soon cleaned up. It turned out to be the most handsome poultry game, three pounds. Of course, I thought that now the kisses would be cleaning my flies, each one at their feet. It wasn't quite like that now so I put the flight watson fancy under. Then, the flight is not cleaned directly, but something stuck in it. It turned out to be the first murmur of the summer.
After this, I did not become, but saw a beautiful trout clean up from the water. He was out of reach but always fun to hit this ball. About half past one, I said this well and headed home.