This cannot be touched.

A blissful day today.

When the fire died last night I wasn't expecting to wake at four a.m. shaking like a shitting dog with the cold. The clouds clearing and me leaving the tent open meant that for the first time in yonks I had ice on the sleeping bag.
No worries though because dawn brought a stunner during which I counted four brief hatches of sedges and mayflies and managed to tempt one wild brownie on an Adams dry fly.
It's now approaching absolute zero in my tent.