Waters & words

No cameras please

Ever had some amazing experience and said “damn….where was my camera when I needed it!”.   We all have. But then there are times when you didn’t have the camera, and somehow in re-thinking the day, or the event, it was fitting that it never made it into the vault of evidence.

As a schoolboy, I remember the master wishing I didn’t have a camera with me on the fishing trip when I took this photo:

the hung towel (1 of 1)

(Note the towel strategically covering the name of the school in question)

There was the time I went on a flyfishing festival many, many years ago, with a group of guys which included the “grand  old gentleman of fly-fishing”.  Let’s just say that the old gentleman, bless his soul, lost the plot a little at the closing dinner. I do believe it was a good single malt that did him in.  I took a picture of him taking a pee in the middle of the main street of the town.  I may have had a little of that single malt myself. Thank goodness it never came out when the film was developed!

Then there was a time when my buddy and I hiked into a very remote, very steep valley, on an illicit fly-fishing adventure. In the excitement, I forgot the GPS and the camera. It shall remain off the record books forever.

There was another trip up to Game Pass when it was still a mess of wattle trees, when I DID take my camera. I hiked up there on my own.  I was single at the time.  At some point I set the camera  on a rock and took a “selfie” with the wattles in the background.  You know…for the record.   My buddies asked suspiciously “who took the photo?”. They still look at me in disbelief when I try to explain that it was on the self timer, and that I WAS alone.   I could have saved a great deal of postulation on their part and a great number of proclamations of innocence on mine, if I had left the bloody camera at home!

Then there was this one, where Anton sent me into a cold pool half naked,  to retrieve what he swore was his fly with a brown still attached amongst the logs. Turned out the fish had long gone. He knew that, just wanted his fly back, and was taking pictures.  Bastard!

IMG-20180502-WA0002

And then there was the more recent one, where my buddy punched a Trout to death. With his fist. Yes. Punched. To death.  No…he didn’t use a rock…I don’t know why.

Yes. Punched.

Damn, I wish I had had my camera for that one!

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