A quieted mind.
Shrill summer frogs. Black waves. Shining jetty planks. The mesmerizing arc of a fly line replaced by flickering flames, gleaming gunwales and a quieted mind.
15 May 2019
Shrill summer frogs. Black waves. Shining jetty planks. The mesmerizing arc of a fly line replaced by flickering flames, gleaming gunwales and a quieted mind.
“I’m guessing you are standing in a river right now” “Naa……at the tyre shop. You?” “At my desk” “Week-end?” “DIY and a birthday party” # “Friday late morning…how about it?” “I’m dead keen, let me see how much I can get done on Thursday” “I’m in the same boat….lets chat Thursday” # “You blooded that new net yet” “No…..soon, I promise….soon!” # The other day my friend Dr Harry took an expensive flight, and hired a car and drove 5 hours, following some pretty dodgy directions to a place he had never
My sister reminded me the other day of what may have been my first encounter with a Puff Adder. The damned thing was lying atop an old hessian sack, trying to make itself look like a hessian sack, so that it could take out a little blonde farm boy. Since then I have stumbled on, jumped over, driven over and recoiled from these things more times than I care to remember. There was the time a bunch of us came over the saddle at Gateshead on our way back down from fishing and found a cluster of babies. A “gaggle
A friend made a valid point the other day. It seems obvious now, but consider this: When you fish a stillwater, there is a very good chance that for at least a portion of the day, you will stand there, or sit there in your float tube, and think about work, or some domestic trouble. Now think back to the last day you spent on a river or stream. You scrambled up banks and slid down into the water, and waded over uneven rocks, and slipped and slithered , and hiked, and focused and cast and watched the dry fly
Every now and then I develop a minor obsession with some or other pattern, or rig, or method. Lately it has been adult caddis patterns. Here is a sample from my vice:
As I drove into work the other day I observed a bumper sticker that said “How do I drive?”, and I thought it was a bit late to be asking for such guidance. In front of me was a truck full of waste. I wondered if it was headed for recycling, and then I spotted a punnet of rotten fruit pressed against the bars of the load-bed. It had a supermarket sticker saying “50% off”. It looked to be 75% full. Then an armoured vehicle labeled “Asset protection” violated just about every traffic rule I know, pulling across the traffic,