fishydreams

At the river inlet into the Embalse del Ebro reservoir the Ebro splits into two channels, each heavily weeded up in places but the clear water pushes through the weed growth, often in clear seams revealing the stony substrate beneath. Both flows converge before the water flows into a narrow tongue which extends to the west from the main body of the reservoir. From above it looks as though the embalse had extended an arm to greet the inflowing river that sustains it.

It is a flat open countryside here. I had seen it previously from an elevated position in the springtime when an exploratory walk lead me from Reinosa to the pretty village of Villafría. Back then the mountains on the opposite side of the town carried the snow which feeds the upper part of the Ebro and Híjar rivers.

At water level now at the river inlet, I was seeing it up close for the first time. It was uncomfortably hot and, in the bright sunshine, there was nowhere to find shade. A couple of fly fishermen I had spoken to on my walk from the town reminded me to be careful in the heat. It was during a heatwave in which a the weather map of Spain was just a map of the Iberian peninsula with every part coloured red. The following day in the very same place, the weather turned, as it frequently and suddenly does, and there was no shelter to be had from the strong downstream wind and the force of the cold, moist air made me regret not having the foresight to pack warmer clothes.

On the first visit I was lucky enough to be there when the sun was high and the river channels, both of them, revealed large numbers of carp noisily feeding in the weeds. In the shallows of the reservoir the waters were coloured up and a number of white birds were actively feeding in the shallow water. I moved towards them to take a better look, but in such open terrain I knew they would spook long before I got close enough to see them well. They could have been egrets but I could see, even from a distance, the side to side sweeping movements of their bills in the water: spoonbills. It is difficult to think of spoonbills as not a little comical in the way they move their heads from side as they seek out food on the floor of the reservoir. They make me think that they are constantly proclaiming their innocence of something of which they have been accused or are in constant disagreement about something or other.

With a fly rod in my hand, I can become so preoccupied with what is happening in the river that I fail to look around as much as I should and, in particular, I neglect to look up. When I remembered to do so I saw a black kite and a number of circling griffon vultures riding some invisible thermal elevator. Looking down on the floor, every now and again some skeletal remains – a jawbone, a skull, some bleached and contorted vertebrae – would serve as a reminder of why those giant scavengers should cast an eye down here from high above.

The birds I did see scavenging were two ravens. A river channel separated us and it was not clear what they were feeding on.

This area is rich with birdlife. I would have expected to come across the usual suspects: grey herons and cormorants, but the cast of characters here is much larger than this. There are avocets, whimbrels, dunlin, red knots, ringed plovers, lapwings, redshanks, wood sandpipers and many more.

It comes as no surprise that this is an overwintering site for many aquatic birds. The reservoir has shallow margins and an extensive perimeter, one hundred kilometers all told. The birds have the place to themselves for the most part and, even in winter, the fridge is well stocked.

I must admit, I felt a little giddy walking about this place by myself. It sometimes feels as though we are losing much of what matters in terms of our wild spaces and that people think that we are the only things that count. That is why I think the time I spent exploring this area felt like a shot in the arm. There was nobody there. The river was bursting with fish, undisturbed and fattening themselves up in and among the weeds in the height of summer. Unseen, disturbed frogs leapt into the water. It was a privilege to have such a place to myself.

It was just me and the horses.