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.
If I’m totally honest, I really don’t like fly fishing for grayling in winter. Standing waist deep in frigid flows for hours at a time dragging heavy bugs along the bottom is dour, torturous work. Besides, I’m not awfully good at it either, so while a more gifted or perceptive angler may fill his boots…… Continue reading Fluke.
Someone, presumably a lunatic, once said that in order to fully appreciate nature one must experience it in its best and worst weather, and it was these questionable words I held at the front of my mind on Christmas Eve as I trudged grimly along the river. I had no business being there. Since October…… Continue reading Into The Storm