162 LINES IN PLEASANT PLACES 



weather must be expected, and in the valleys I have 

 experienced downpours of rain and spells of heat equal 

 to what I knew in the tropics. But as a rule the angler 

 has little to complain of. The warmer the air and the 

 brighter the sun the better in reason for the glacier-fed 

 rivers, but let no one wish for such floods as are caused 

 by heavy rain in association with warm winds. Out 

 of my four visits one only was seriously marred by wet 

 weather, and that was nothing like so provoking as 

 another year when there was no rain, and yet no generous 

 contributions to the rivers from glacier or mountain. 

 Even in July the rain is occasionally emphasised by 

 bitterly cold wind, and should your place that day be 

 in a boat there is little pleasure. An ordinary mackin- 

 tosh is useless, and hours of casting in solid oilskin and 

 sou'-wester become irksome what time the clouds 

 press heavily down upon you and the rugged mountains 

 frown right and left. 



The one consolation rendered imperative under such 

 circumstances by poetic justice is a continual carolling 

 from the suddenly agitated winch. Fishermen forget 

 this sentiment when they denounce the clamour of the 

 check and lay all their money on the silent reel. After 

 an hour of swish, swish, without touch from a fish, the 

 scream of a winch is like hymns in the night. How- 

 ever, let that pass. The point is you must be prepared 

 for heat and cold, wet and dry. I remember one 

 morning when, going out of our snug farmhouse in the 

 valley to reconnoitre, I found three or four poor cot- 

 tagers cutting down their wretched oats and snipping 

 off their 3-in. growth of hay in a cruel north wind, with 

 the mountain tops white with new snow. A week 

 previously we had been sweltering in moist heat, 

 and it was the only time I ever saw a mosquito in 

 Norway. 



