I did a re-sort of my library today after a recent gift of yet more books, and discovered a duplicate. I have a copy of this iconic and important book in paperback: If you live in South Africa, and if you are happy to pay the courier costs, its yours. First come, first served. Get in touch with a comment or an e-mail (truttablog at gmail dot com) and I will get it ready for collection.
A day on a stillwater towards the end of winter, trying different tactics; the shoreline and a float tube, until I get the formula right and start catching the fish I was after.
At a time when so many South Africans are emigrating and the grounds that there is nothing left worth staying here for, it was refreshing to see at least our fishing, through the eyes of a foreign visitor this week. “Wow, Wow, Wow!” were the words that Bert Worms kept repeating, as we drove up the valley, and as we stopped to look out over the vista before us. It is a valley that I travel to most weeks, and it has become old hat to me. You can see Inhlosane mountain off to the south, and northwards is the
“In the corner of a smokey bar She’s singing Hallelujah All the fools are shouting over her But she keeps singing Hallelujah” From the song ”I hear your song, Sweetness”, by George Taylor Keeping with a musical theme, who remembers Feargal Sharkey ? I was pleasantly surprised to learn recently that Feargal Sharkey is now a champion of the environment in the UK. More specifically, he is the champion of England’s beleaguered chalk streams. Sharkey is doing a whole lot to publicise the abuse of these unique and beautiful streams, that are in many places almost beyond rescue. Who
Back in August of 2016 I wrote this piece about a certain Capt HA Cartwright, his old fishing tackle which I happened to be keeping, and what I had discovered about the man on the internet. My fascination with the story didn’t end there, and in the winter of 2017, I read the story of Fritz Kolbe…”Betraying Hitler”. I read with intense interest the snippets in there in which the meeting between Kocherthaler and Cartwright in Berne was mentioned. I had no sooner turned the last page of that fascinating story when I received an e-mail, out of the blue,
I read somewhere recently that the character trait in which one favours nostalgia, is in direct contrast to to the trait in which one seeks new adventure. Put another way: If you spend your time in fond reminiscence, you are less likely to be trying new fly patterns, and new tippet rigs and heading out to new fishing destinations. It had me thinking. I have to watch myself! I am a nostalgic. By that very definition, I am at risk of being an old fart. So to comfort myself I stay abreast with things and keep my mind open to
I don’t do tackle reviews. I am just not a hugely technical tackle junkie. Stuff feels right or it doesn’t. This level of analytical skill is of no use when spewing out advice on a rod or line. But I reckon I could pull it off with a fly vest or pack, because whether it feels right is everything. So here goes: To me a fly-fishing combo vest/pack is a critical piece of kit. For the type of fishing I do, and perhaps just because I am stuck in my ways, I am not considering a sling pack, or chest