Advocacy

The word “advocacy” is used extensively by Greg French in his recently published book ”The Last Wild Trout”. In reading the context in which he uses it, the meaning is abundantly clear, but for a simple starting point here is the definition as found on Google: ad·vo·ca·cy ….pronounced ˈadvəkəsē/  : noun public support for or recommendation of a particular cause or policy. example: "their advocacy of traditional family values" synonyms:  support for, backing of, promotion of, championing of; I found that French’s book in general, and the repeated use of this word in the informative “conservation notes” at the end

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A bitch called Kevin

Just as music is all about the spaces between the notes, and how you can judge the authenticity of a friend who fails to say or do something,  so there is much to learn from when you don’t catch fish. Longest silence, and all that stuff. It’s therapeutic. It’s not about the fish. Bull. It sucks. I recently spent a day on the Mooi, when the wind blew so damned hard that when I got to Krantz pool, I swear the water was occasionally piling up in a great big bulge in the middle of the stream before flattening out

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The Troglodyte

While I have previously written about the “Honey Troglodyte”, it is the black one that is my real go-to pattern on a swiftly flowing stream. My son James did a photo session recently, while I tied up some samples for an article on the fly. See this LINK for the full story and tying instructions. Photos by James Fowler

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“On the Prod”

It is a term my fishing buddies and I have adopted over the years. It refers specifically to Brown Trout, and it is an attempt to describe their behaviour when they are prevalent, on the feed, and generally visible to the observant flyfisher. Browns, as we all know, are fickle things. They have a habit of disappearing, both in stillwater and in streams. Their apparent disappearance is a very common cause of comments about inadequate stocking, or the catastrophic effects of a drought, or deep suspicions and conspiracy theories about sinister fish-kills. I too have fallen for their tricks and

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Close your eyes

I have an old friend who, when he is sitting comfortably in our lounge, and a truly classic piece of music comes on the stereo, closes his eyes as he listens. I think he sways a little too. He certainly zones out. He escapes the confines of our simple human surroundings, switches off the world around him, and allows his mind to soar to lofty and beautiful places in which the depth of his appreciation knows no bounds. He transcends those in the room who nod in his direction and snigger, and he rises to a place above us all.

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