Icelandic Inkblots

“Today is your day. Fish or don’t fish.” 

We were standing outside a gas station under the roof covering the pumps, trying to stay out of the pouring rain. The river I passed on the way to the meet was rising—off color and moving fast.

I’d come a long way to fish the Varmá and had to ask, “Will we see fish?”

My guide took a slow drink from his coffee in that infuriating way guides do when they know something you don’t. “This is Iceland,” he said. “There are always fish.”

This is Iceland. I needed a new fishing mantra anyway…

Buy issue

Subscribe to start your collection of The Flyfish Journal.


The FlyFish Journal Mailing List

We respect your time, and only send you the occasional update.