Solstice

I awoke at 03.30, the faint light already penetrating the room.

A quick cup of tea, the rod and net packed on the bike, lures in my pockets and I was off.

The smell and atmosphere as you step out the door hits you. Inside you live a comfortable half life, never feeling the extremes of the outdoors.

Living on a hill, I freewheeled half a mile, before pedalling the last few hundred yards.

I could here the oystercatchers and redshanks calling from the mudflats, a cettis warbler in thick patch of brambles and as I lay the bike down, the strange sound of an egret, disturbed by my appearance ( well, you would be, wouldn't you ? ).

The time an hour either side of dawn is magical, all the more so for being fleeting. I tried to take it in, absorbing the birdsong and stillness.

Something weird was happening with the tide, it should have been pushing in, but there was a total lack of movement,  possibly caused by extremely high pressure.

I had a go in the pool, the surface popper's sounds magnified by the lack of wind and background noise. The peace was disturbed as a small bass hit the lure hard,  a short struggle before being slid in on to the mud.

Five or six other fish followed, all around the pound mark, real litluns, but fun on light gear.

By 06.00 the action was over, despite the tide now pushing in hard. I sat next to the bike, looking for fry being attacked or any other activity, but I think the total lack of wind and sunshine,  even at this early hour, had discouraged any feeding.

Back on the bike and within fifteen minutes I was sat in the garden drinking coffee in the soft morning warmth.

Glorious June indeed.