It’s around half past six in the evening as I’m writing this and it’s already dark. Properly dark. The slide towards winter is underway, and although there is much to look forward to – the cream of the year’s chub and barbel fishing, shoals of grayling, frosty mornings chasing pike – as the daylight dwindles…… Continue reading A Trout Angler Reflects.
Tonight I was swiping absentmindedly through photographs on my phone as I often do, when I faltered on a handful of shots from last September: pictures of a tiny, boulder strewn Cumbrian beck. Unassuming in appearance, but possessing a wild, intimate beauty, and, as it transpired, a plucky population of beautiful wild trout. Immediately I…… Continue reading Scaled Down.
Dark, big in the head, thin after a long winter, and only a few ounces in weight – it wasn’t exactly the trout of an angler’s dreams. Nevertheless, this diminutive brownie, winkled out of a small beck this Saturday on the worm, was as valuable to me as if it were a fat three pounder.…… Continue reading Off The Mark.