HVILESTED, 1901 141 



during the rest of my time in Norway I was never 

 again troubled by insomnia even in its most modified 

 form. The lost week (from the fishing point of view) 

 should be taken into account as having appreciably 

 diminished the total bag for the season, as my two 

 sons, whom I had left behind me with the whole beat 

 at their disposal, were tempted away on the first of 

 many fruitless expeditions after bears, by the news 

 that a sheep had been killed by Bruin on one of the 

 sheep farms above Grodal. Thus it happened that 

 the water lay idle for six whole days, and those the 

 most likely for salmon of our portion of the season, 

 August and September, when the sea-trout fishing is 

 at its best nearly all the time, but the run of large 

 fish has pretty nearly ceased. As the days shorten 

 the chance of rising a good salmon also diminishes, as 

 those left in the pools grow darker and less eager for 

 the fly. I believe a prawn appeals better to their 

 jaded and depraved appetites, but personally I have 

 always kept to the fly, although I have no doubt that 

 it requires quite as much skill to manage a prawn 

 properly, as to cast and play a Jock Scott. 



It was an extraordinarily dry and hot season, and 

 day by day the water became clearer and the pools 

 and streams shallower. Towards the end I found 

 that my daylight fishing could only be carried on 

 successfully with the finest of tackle, and I sometimes 

 tried the fine single gut casts I had been using in 

 May and June on the little Mimram with a dry 

 fly. Needless to say I was frequently broken, but 

 the triumph when I succeeded in landing a really 

 good fish made up for many disappointments. 



Hvilested, alas, no longer crowns the eminence 



