CLEAR WATERS 



grass. Llyn Carw may possibly cover two acres. 

 Nearly half of it, however, is hopelessly shallow, with 

 a fine gravel bottom, while the remainder resembles 

 a big bog-hole. It was a drear, dull, and cold Sep- 

 tember afternoon. Llyn Carw, moreover, is a gloomy 

 tarn, and a chill ripple puffed over its surface. One 

 really needs a companion on its banks. I felt almost 

 * creepy ' as I mounted my tackle, though it seemed 

 superfluous to cast a fly for sulky minnow-feeding 

 pounders under such conditions. To my great sur- 

 prise, however, I saw of a sudden the head and shoul- 

 ders of a large fish pop noiselessly up in a businesslike 

 fashion towards the middle of the tarn. By wading 

 in up to my knees, and letting out as much line as I 

 could throw, I found I could just reach the spot. 

 He took me at the very first offer, and ran straight 

 across the pool, and then — well, perhaps the gut 

 of the claret and mallard was frayed ; perhaps the 

 knot had been a carelessly tied one, and pulled. It 

 was a hopeless-looking evening, conducive, I fear, 

 to carelessness in preliminaries, though that was no 

 excuse. Anyway, he broke me with a tug that a 

 quarter-pounder could have dehvered, which was 

 grievous, as not another sign of life showed itself upon 

 the desolate tarn, though I flogged it all hard. Such 

 was my sole and sad experience of Llyn Carw. 



Some thirty to forty fish in all are caught here in 

 most years, roughly averaging a pound. Strangers, 

 however, rarely make the toilsome pilgrimage. Nor, 

 again, do they get to the much larger natural tarns, 

 the twin lakes of Cerig-llwydion. These are four 

 miles up hill over the rough, pathless moors from the 

 190 



