Book Review: A Fly Rod Of Your Own

John Gierach still has it. The original trout bum is back for his 21st book, and for me his laconic storytelling style never gets old. Whereas he was once young and keen he's now older and wider. Still bouncing along over dirt tracks and bumping down in small planes to reach the trout others only see in magazines he's made a life for himself living wild and free, fishing wild places.

In a world where all outdoor activities now seem to need to be "extreme" he manages to hang on to the idea of The Gentle Art, he fishes for the sake of fishing, sure he'd like to bank the big one, but I can't help get the feeling he'd be happier if he saw a newbie catch it. He's owned all the best gear a fly shop can offer, and yet at the same time he can't help but poke fun at the way 'simplicity' always seems to come with such an eye watering price tag.

Best of all he has the good graces to make himself sound delighted with life, without being smug. One of the great outdoor voices.

Much more to come
Your pal
SBW

Fishing The River Usk Redux

I once read an interview with Mel Brookes, where the journalist followed him around London for the day, Mel told the same un-funny joke to everyone he met, but Mel wasn't for giving in, by the end of the day it still wasn't that funny but it was at least funnier than the first time.
Or to put it another way 'great work isn't written, it's re-written'.

With that in mind I've been working on my travel writing and, although I'm still smarting over the offering they knocked back, Sabotage Times have accepted another piece.

Longterm readers will remember when The Lighthouse Keeper and myself fished the River Usk last summer, I've retold the tale, some details added and some taken away, let me know what you think.

Gonzo Fly-Fishing in the Brecon Beacons

Your pal
SBW

Salmon On The Tay, With Andy Richardson

My old pal and mentor Andy has been up to his old tricks again, showing the TV folk how its done. This time he's guiding us for Salmon on the river Tay.
More Soon
SBW

Orvis Customer Service Reviewed

True Story:
I was visiting my 'rents and saw a familiar sight on the kitchen table
SBW: You've got the new Orvis catalogue?
MOB (mother of bushwacker): Yes and they do mens clothes now as well
SBW [wearing a quizzical smirk]: Do they sell anything else I might like?
MOB: Not that I know of

Its easy to mock brand diffusion, to complain that a heritage sporting brand has become a clothes shop with a few rods out the back, my mum was totally shocked to learn that Orvis sell fishing gear.
But seriously people, Orvis' customer service is second to none. No one does it better. If you search the fly fishing forums you'll find example after example of people posting how they were seduced by AN Other brand and how disappointed they were when they needed a repair, and how its back to the lovin' arms of Orvis from now on.

A massive shout goin' out out to Jimmy and Declan of the Orvis store in London's Dover St. Really nice guys, loads of good advice and they proper went above and beyond when it came to sorting out my waders. Customer service done right. Thanks chaps.

More fly fishing adventures soon as your pal SBW and local blogger The Lighthouse Keeper have a play-date with some Grayling.
SBW

Fishing The River Usk Pt7

The last tangle of the trip

Some observations on the noble pastime that is Fly Fishing:

Fly Fishing is - Fighting your way though the undergrowth and thorns in expensive plastic trousers, carrying a really expensive stick that's so fragile it might as well be made of glass.

Fly Fishing is - buying or making a steam-side Special Effects department in miniature, and then using spider webs to tie the creations onto the line, while sitting in cold water, often in the dark.
From where I'm standing Fly-tying looks like a hobby within a hobby, apparently their are guys who have 'had to' build whole extensions on to their houses just to store the inevitable collections of fly tying materials. Some of which are collectable.

The moment just before the F±§k@R is cut off, and the whole process started again

Fly Fishing is - Relaxing by unknotting spiders webs in the half light of and overgrown stream. Practiced mainly by gentlemen of advancing years 'middle youth', who have finally acquired the patience required for all the untangling, the money for all the kit and caboodle and the time off.
The sport then serves mainly to remind the practitioner he needs reading glasses.

Fly Fishing is - Where the romance of craft and the precision of science intersect; it speaks of a past where men we'd like to be, men from a bygone era, make things, things of staggering precision, and make them in sheds. So that, armed with their creations, when time and financial tide are right we can re-hatch into ourselves as boys, all penknives and baseball caps, poking sticks into the water, and conjuring up visions of what might one day be.

Get anything? Some bushes, a soaking, spent a lot though!

Fly Fishing is - watching good intention turn to pragmatism as one fishless day turns into another
The Lighthouse Keeper [day one]: Oh no SBW, Dry Fly is what it's all about, that's the real thing
The Lighthouse Keeper [day three]: Lets do some nymphing!

Fly Fishing is - A school of fishing so up-itself that it can become, [once a collection of bit 'n' bobs have been bought - at at £4.98 each] any other kind of fishing (float, lure) without even noticing, yet still remain disdainful of them.

See - just like Abercrombie and Fitch

Fly Fishing is - The search for the simple life, the search for a time when we were grubby but happy, enthralled by the simplest things; following the movement of a ball of fluff as the currents tumble it down a streams meander, the flicker and flash of a tiny fish made from Peacock Feather, seeing that same feather-fish become the new kid on the block as fry, tentative and observent, surrounded it until the biggest and blodest of the fry muscles its way past the onlookers to break its teeth on the feather-fishes brass head.

Annoyingly the true pure simplicity of it all can only be revealed at vast expense. Often without the involvement of fish.

More soon
SBW

Fishing the Usk Pt6

So you've been reading about our adventures fishing the Usk, and you're thinking of coming to the UK to fish, or you're new to fishing and you're wondering how things roll 'stream-side'?


All The Gear - No Idea
There is no greater fear in the heart of the British [I know, this time I'm including them - as its the same for them too] Outdoorsman than to be branded with this epithet. In other countries a man fishing with his new £800 fly rod, in his £600 waders and £500 wading jacket is probably admired for his financial success or profligacy with a credit card, looked up to as someone who has invested seriously in the sport.

Here he could be rendered the lowest of the low with just a few words: if he was really good all you'd have to do is look  at the ground and say 'Tackle Tart' or if he was anything less than world championship standard, 'All The Gear - No Idea' would do it. Once dismissed like this I'm not sure there would be any way for him to bounce back without living on the riverbank for the next year, eating only fish he'd caught, but caught only after repairing his rod with Pine Pitch and parts culled from an abandoned washing machine.

For the real 'Aficionado' look your gear would look something like this:

Your Jacket: should look like it was; dived from a dumpster or belonged to your grandfather.
Your Waders: should be mainly made up of patches.
Your Rod: can be as expensive as you like, you may know the name of the brand, but certainly not the model and you should have a story to go with it about how you got it in a trade with some fool who thought they could buy their way into the sport but has now taken up something else, letting you buy the rod for 10-15% of its sale price.

Your Reel: anything more than 60% of the original finish left on the reel. We have a name for people like that.

Your Hat: like the dog dragged it in, and preferably you'll be seen using it as a dogs bowl at least once during the day.

Your Fly-Box; if you must insist on using a bought one, it needs a crack in the plastic, but better still a very old tabacco tin, preferably of a brand no longer sold.

Now we get to the difficult bit, how to conduct yourself. Any kind of success must be down-played, but the opportunity must also be used to demonstrate your ethical superiority. That 20lb fish was ' reasonable' but obviously was released to breed and so others could enjoy the majesty of caching it. However unworthy they may be. Where visitors from more expressive nations often come unstuck is that we have very strict rules banning: earnestness, gushing, emoting and talking about yourself. To prevent social disgrace where others would use the above, we use that most British of traits Understatement. If in doubt feign dry, deadpan, indifference at all times.

"The understatement rule means that a debilitating and painful chronic illness must be described as 'a bit of a nuisance'; a truly horrific experience is 'well, not exactly what I would have chosen'; a sight of breathtaking beauty is 'quite pretty'; an outstanding performance of achievement is 'not bad'; an act of abominable cruelty is 'not very friendly', and an unforgivably stupid misjudgment is 'not very clever'; the Antarctic is 'rather cold' and the Sahara 'a bit too hot for my taste'; and any exceptionally delightful object, person or event, which in other cultures would warrant streams of superlatives, is pretty much covered by 'nice', or, if we wish to express more ardent approval, 'very nice'."

From 'Watching The English', by Kate Fox. [Bright girl, not a bad read.] 

An antique shotgun of staggering beauty and fascinating provenance is "this old thing", a supermodel = not a bad looking bird, a vintage Porsche = 'my hack' and/or  'I'm keeping it on the road', a handmade suit would be 'the uniform' and a man who owns as far as the eye can see is 'a farmer' or even better understating the understatement 'a bit of a farmer'.

Another nation with understatement rules is of course Japan [aka the Britain of Asia]. I once asked a japanese girl how the notoriously polite japanese people cope with the english trampling over their social sensibilities. She smiled kindly "It's not your fault you're a barbarian"

More soon

Your pal

SBW

Unusual Fly Reels: Franco Vivarelli

 Saw this the other day and though of the Usk, a reel that uses the drag to coil a spring which in turn takes up line. Very neat and tidy for wading through the thick stuff.

Made by Franco Vivarelli carbon fibre, Alloy, or even wood, weighing in at 103g [3.5-ish ounces] not the lightest reel in the world, but certainly the most 'gadget' so far.
More soon
SBW

Fishing The River Usk Pt4

Look everyone SBW's rod is overshadowed by Lord Hereford's Knob

Every hobby starts with a hat, when stalking deer hats keep you warm and give you something to catch the rounds in when you unload the rifle, when fishing they keep off the sun [and more usually the rain]. Here I'm using a Sombrero as a training aid, the brim largely prevents overhead casting, entraining me in the art of the 'scrappy side cast' which will may put a fly under the overhanging bushes and trees which line the banks of the tributaries.

Opps that's another half hour untangling!

While we're on the subject of untangling I'm not sure if fishing causes divorce but its certainly one of its benefits, various chaps we invited to join us were 'mysteriously' busy after expressing initial enthusiasm.  As we canvased our friends looking for accomplices to join us on the trip, I noticed a new found unpopularity; with our talk of new GF's and fishing trips we were perhaps sounding a little too much like an escape committee, or at the very least Rebel Forces. To be crushed under the jackboots of the Empire.

For those of you who value a committed partnership AND fishing here's a few words of advice:

It’s a stunning summers morning. Three guys are fishing a Trout stream

Guy One:
“You have no idea what I had to promise the mrs to be here. I’m painting BOTH the kids rooms next weekend.”

Guy Two:
“That’s nothing I’m weeding the garden, BEFORE I reorganise her mother’s garage”.

Guys One and Two:
“What did you have to promise”?

Guy Three:
“Suckers, same as last week, I just set the alarm for 3am when it goes off I give her a nudge and say her Frolicking or Fishing? She said ‘Wear a hat, it’s cold out there’”.

On the subject of 'Conchita has left me' and hats. For those of us of a certain age, the Sombrero will always be synonymous with the now much missed 'Bandit' bar of our youth. Remember this one?



More soon
Your pal
SBW

Fishing The River Usk Pt3

Catch a snag or catch a fish? Well there's a surprise its another snag!

As we were leaving our first nights camp at Pen Pont we chatted with the Lady of the House, who kindly wished us well with our fishing as we waived our goodbyes.

SBW: We'll follow you on Facebook
LotH: I'm sure you've better things to do
TLK: Trust me, he doesn't

The fishing opportunities in the Brecon's are absolutely the stuff of fly fishing calendars, you can fish  tumbling frothing gravel beds, weirs - both natural and man made, and the pokey streams and tributaries that feed the Usk and the Wye.

If you've only ever fished reservoirs and stocked ponds, this will be a revelation to you, stalking without deer or rifle, stalking truly wild fish, in their truly wild habitat. I took a an 8ft 5/6 weight, which was OK for the more open sections but next time I go I'll be using a 4 weight no longer than 6ft and if I can afford it something smaller too.

Word to the wise - studs, felt soles or better yet Studded Felt soles are a must. Or then again you could just sack the whole 'fishing' bit off and just go for an invigorating impromptu swim like I did.

The Wye and Usk foundation have made a really great job of making these waters accessible. They publish a 'Passport' to the area with fairly detailed maps of the beats, and a Roving Voucher Scheme where you can pay-as-you-go by dropping tokens into boxes at the start of each beat.

The Wye & Usk Foundation is a charity concerned with restoring the habitat, water quality and fisheries of the rivers Wye and Usk.

The Foundation is more than just a lobbying organisation: through a series of partnership projects, we are raising significant sums of money to remedy problems such as habitat degradation, poor water quality and diffuse pollution, barriers to fish migration and over-exploitation of our fisheries.

In 2000 we became a registered charity with the following objectives:

To conserve, protect, rehabilitate and improve the salmon and other indigenous species of animal and plant life of the rivers Wye and Usk, their tributaries, streams and watercourses and the banks, riparian lands and catchments of the river.

To advance the education of the public in the conservation of rivers, river corridors and their animal and plant life and the need for conservation, protection, rehabilitation and improvement of such environments.

More about our trip to come
SBW

Fishing The River Usk Pt2

After packing and re packing my kit we finally left London for the first part of the trip, we were to stop off in Cardiff (the capital of Wales) to spend the night with old friends. Cardiff is an amazing city that's still in the grips of a massive regeneration program where the bay has been reinvented as a leisure destination, sadly that means the usual chain restaurants, but the setting is nice.

Somehow on the way home from the pizza and beers I acquired a Sombrero.

The next morning we set off proper, driving up into the hills of Brecon. The countryside offered it's usual delights, roadkill, people who thought leaving the car's hand (aka parking) brake on would be prudent, people who thought if they got there quick enough they'd be up for a prize, and farmers who just like to shower the road with shit because they can.

For our first night we camped in the garden of  Pen Pont  a very nice country house that has evolved over the last 350 odd years with each generation adding wings, annexes, and remodelling to suit their needs. You can stay in the house which looks lovely, we were on a more restricted budget so it was camping for us. For those of you with an interest in traditional architecture you can find a very good history of the house and the family HERE

How's that for Bushcraft?

By the time we'd got there, set up the camp and sorted out our gear we'd long missed the morning rise by about six hours. So we started with the time-tested tactic of enthusiastically thrashing the surface of the water. Within moments we'd both seen fish jump, near-ish to our flies, buoyed by these early 'near-wins' enthusiasm turned to over exuberance as it so often does. Sigh.

Unable to find the other old approach shoe that I'd earmarked as a temporary 'wading boots' I'd chosen a pair of Neoprene stalking wellies as my footwear, if I'd set out to provide The Lighthouse Keeper with a high comedy moment as I slipped from rock to rock before plunging into the depths they would have been the perfect choice. Not my intention, but he seemed well-pleased with the outcome.

Now shivering slightly in the dying light I wasn't going to let a soaking dampen my spirits or dull my enthusiasm so I paused to tie on a new fly and watch TLK casting, I was just admiring the fluid motion of his back cast when I was stung on the back of the head, as my hand instinctively rose to the afflicted area, a sudden searing pain was accompanied by the amusing sight of TLK suddenly stumbling forward into water deeper than the height of his 'waist waders'. The forward motion of his cast had been suddenly interrupted by the line snagging and then snapping causing him to lose his balance. By this time my hand had reached the back of my head, where I found his fly neatly embedded, its broken tippet hanging down my back.

With the score for the afternoon at:
Soakings 1.5
Fly strikes on other anglers: 1 [direct hit]
Fish hooked 1
Fish brought to the net 0

We called it a day, heading for the relative safety of the campfire.

More Soon
SBW

Gear Freak, Kit Tart, Blogger

" I know nothing else that so restores the buoyant optimism of youth as overhauling ones kit "

Horace Kephart 1906


"Um-errr, I think I've got everything"
SBW 2012

More soon
SBW

Unboxing: Orvis Battenkill Fly Reel Review

Not too expensive and hard to beat for value for money.

It's easy when looking at the stunning range of reels available to get carried away with admiration leading to lust, leading to 'drawer-queen-itus' where tools that are 'too nice to use' become art objects. I sold my [semi] custom knives years ago. I love the machinists art, I'd love to own a few of those exquisite reels you see in the Fly magazines; turned and milled from aircraft grade titanium, but I'd have them covered in scratches by the end of the first trip. So for me the workhorse of reels. The Orvis Battenkill. Not too expensive, well made with a satisfying click to the drag, and a durable finish.  In fairness the finish has been kept to 'tolerable' in a trade-off to keep the price down, although I have it on good authority that the Trout are indifferent to paint or polish.

Anything that comes with a service diagram (with part numbers for ordering spares) is better than something that doesn't. If the manufacturer believes that me, joe punter, is capable of taking it apart and putting it back together it has a hope of being reasonably well made.

I've got the 5/6 size because I bought my whole fly rig as a set second hand, but after all ITS JUST AN EFFING BOBBIN TO KEEP LINE ON so you can go down to 4 weight or up to 7 weight.

Good value, from a company with an amazing reputation for customer service. I honestly cant see myself buying another one in the foreseeable.

More Soon
SBW

Field Sports In Scotland Pt.8

Bewitched, entranced, fascinated. By the side of the river he trotted as one trots, when very small, by the side of a man who holds one spell-bound by exciting stories; and when tired at last, he sat on the bank, while the river still chattered on to him, a babbling procession of the best stories in the world, sent from the heart of the earth to be told at last to the insatiable sea. 

Ahh the sights and sounds of the river bank; the flutter-by of butterflies, the magic of the rods flex as it loads with the energy it's going to use to flick the line out, the babble of the river, the misanthropic mutterings of the Andy, and the delightful scent of DEET on the breeze. Ahhhhh.

The last of my adventures afield in the Kingdom of Fife (for the time being) took us in search of that magical fish the Sea Trout. Andy and I drove to a river he's fished for years, where water tumbles down from the hills breaking through the soil and out into the Firth of Forth.  Our quarry is making the journey in the other direction, having once spawned in the same waters we patrolled, the Sea Trout are returning to complete the cycle, some of them having attained truely impressive sizes.  On arrival we caught up with Gordon the Water Bailiff - armed with a spinning rig and soft lures in the style of  Sand Eels. His reports were encouraging; He had already landed his 'toon-fash' of the season, and witnessed a twenty-pounder caught by another chap. We held high hopes of a trip to the smoking service with our bounty. Yeah right.

Wether it was my; poor technique, general englishness, or 'sheer-suburban-uselessness' Andy wasn't sure, so he alternated between them and threw in a few other forms of blame for good measure. 

Alas I was once again unable to close the deal with the wild foods of Fife.

As usual our kit pendulumed between the home-made and the high tech, Andy pairing an £800 super rod with one of the skanky-ist spinning reels its been my displeasure to see/use in a long long time. Ever keen to reenforce national stereotypes Andy indignantly leapt to its defence "what do you mean? I paid Ten Pounds for that!" 

Other Bushcrafters had been there before us

 Almost 16C [aka 60.6F] measured with the plumbers non-contact thermometer.
How's that for kit-tart fishing tackle!

It was the kind of idyllic afternoon that fly fishing is made for, the cares of the world were far far away, occasionally a Brown Trout would jump from the water, and despite Andy's prediction I actually came back with one fly more than I set out with!

"Beyond the Wild Wood comes the Wide World," said the Rat. "And that's something that doesn't matter, either to you or me. I've never been there, and I'm never going, nor you either, if you've got any sense at all."

More soon

SBW

Unboxing: Greys Missionary Fly Rod Review

"The rod is a bamboo weighing seven ounces, which has to be spliced with a winding of silk thread every time it is used. This is a tedious process; but, by fastening the joints in this way, a uniform spring is secured in the rod. No one devoted to high art would think of using a socket joint." 

Charles Dudley Warner 1829-1900

Way back when I set out on my mission to take Wild Brown Trout from waters within the M25 (the orbital ring road that incircles London) I hooked up with [sporadic] blogger and Fly Guy, Jeremiah Quinn who had offered to act as my guide. He oversaw my first clumsy efforts to flick-a-fly as we explored the Darenth a river in Kent once fished by Charles Dickens. You can read all about it here.

Jeremiah is very well traveled and deeply committed to no-money-down fishing in rivers and streams, disdaining 'stockies'  from the pay-to-play reservoirs as tame fish for the uncommitted. Often this means arduous travel by planes, trains, and public transport. He uses Greys Missionary rods to avoid that horrible moment when you're waiting to see if the ramp-monkeys have bent your rod tube into a U shape. As something of a wanderer myself I've always bought take-down or travel rods for spinning and beachcasting so I needed little convincing.

Everyone I asked said a six weight was the all-rounder for fresh water, I've got the 5/6 weight. You can fish a fly rod one up or one down so it's biggish for the chalksteams of the Darenth and Wandle, and smallish for the Thames. The rod of a suburban fly fisher. The rod of mountain stream bushwhacker.

You can spend all kinds of money on fly rods, but frankly there are limits. Sad kit-tart though I am, I'm just not in the market for an £800 rod. But my £25 rod sucked; if I'd given it a flick before writing this post it would still be vibrating now. Happily fly rods are both deeply subjective and subject to the whims of fashion. So there's often the chance to buy rods from people who've changed their minds about last weeks must-have. When a deal steal came up I took Jeremiah's advice and pounced on my current rig which is based around the Greys Missionary.

• 8.25 feet long; handy when trying to get between the trees linning a chalk stream
• Slower than the fast 'technical' rods, faster than the sloppy slow ones, it's made a HOOJ difference to my casting. 
• Mid-to-Tip action makes it pretty forgiving
• The tube it comes in is much better made than the Shimano tubes, though not as nice as the metal tubes the £800 rods come in.

But does it catch fish?

More soon
SBW

Field Sports In Scotland Pt 4

It's all change here, I've swapped ....

This

 Yo-Zuri, Shimano Bio Master, and Rapala fishing Pliers (2nd pair I've lost - cheap and good)

For this

Rod: Greys Missionary 8'3" #5/6. Reel: Orvis Battenkill #5/6. 

Line: Hardy WF5F line. Fly: Gold Bead Hares Ear

And This

The car park at Rock-A-Nore in Hastings. East Sussex

For THIS!

Andy's private mini-loch.

Grin caused by massive improvement in casting [thanks Andy].
We're going back to work tomorrow afternoon, it's hard life being a celebrity adventure guide!

More to come
SBW

What Is It About Fly Fishing?

Really what is it? The sight of buds on the trees, the slight shift in air temperature, the sudden realisation that although it's still light the days works are over. A recurring thought rises, like a trout to a fly, 'I must get my fly gear together, and a boat, we need a boat'.

Now as regular readers will no doubt have noticed I only fish for free, wild fish caught in wild places as nature intended. Due to the rampant over crowding of a small island sometimes those wild places are hidden between discarded shopping trolleys and dumped stolen mopeds. But as in all things, we must learn to seek out the simple comforts that nature offers. What is hidden suddenly reveals itself, the elusive wonder of nature poking its head out from between the debris of urban degradation.

So the great dichotomy of the fly continues, the simple life of simple unadorned pleasures, pursued with the aid of kit and equipment that are often stunning examples of the machinists craft, and jaw-droppingly expensive. See:

Some go to church and think about fishing, others go fishing and think about God.

- Tony Blake

Scholars have long known that fishing eventually turns men into philosophers. Unfortunately, it is almost impossible to buy decent tackle on a philosopher's salary.

- Patrick F. McManus

If we carry purism to it's logical conclusion, to do it right you'd have to live naked in a cave, hit your trout on the head with rocks, and eat them raw. But, so as not to violate another essential element of the fly-fishing tradition, the rocks would have to be quarried in England and cost $300 each.

- John Gierach

See?

All this kit reviewing is getting in the way of buying food so I'm delighted to tell you that this post is supported by boaterexam.com which in my book makes them very very nice people. If you're in Canada and have a boat it's now mandatory to have a ticket to show you're taking the whole health and safety thing seriously, conveniently you can now take your Boating licence online, so you don't have to take a day off from working like a dog to afford that new reel!

See you out there, I'm the one in the silly VERY COOL hat

Your pal

SBW

Spinning: A Yarn With An Urban Fly Guy

Some lesser known species of ‘trout bum’ found in the mud

A long-time ago another blogger had given me my first lesson on the fly, we’d stalked wild trout inside the M25 (the orbital road that encircles London), a summers day in the garden of england, a delightful afternoon spent on the banks once fished by Dickens, out in the further reaches of the ‘burbs but still technically within the city. 

You can read about it here.

Ah Mr Quinn I Presume?

After much to-ing and fro-ing we’d set a new challenge, fishing the lowest pool of the Ravensbourne, where it meets the Thames, just as the tide turns and starts to fill it with salt water – as the big-uns came to snaffle up the little-uns. Cold enough to snow, wet enough for the constant light rain to keep it from ever settling, welcome to urban fishing, in London, in the mud, in February. Brrrrrrrrr! 
'Where the Ravensbourne meets the Thames' sounds kind of classy doesn't it? 
It's also known (somewhat more figuratively) as Deptford Creek.

'And for my next trick..............'

We’d both attended the Creekside Centres excellent Low Tide Walk (my version of events here) and seen first hand evidence of the juvenile Flounder, Mitten Crabs and Urban Detritus. The tackle shop didn't have a 'caddice of old bike flys' so  Jeremiah had armed himself with a Flounder Fly. He's an optimist.

The history books are full of mentions of the Eel fishing industry that flourished in symbiosis with the tanneries the area was also known for, even all these years later the mud is still throwing up plenty of evidence both of the tanneries and of course the south londoners inbred impulse, that when disposing of almost anything, lobbing it in the river is best practice.

There is very very little solid ground in this part of the river mouth. Armed with 9 ft of spinning rod I cast out a sprat intending to freeline the current. I was temparily fascinated, and distracted by Jeremiah's vigorous casting.

I thought I was standing on the only other bit of solid ground, I took his photo and suddenly I relaised that my bait had crossed the river at 90 degrees to the current and my line was now disappearing into a mud bank. I stuffed the camera into a pocket, pulled and pulled at the line, but before I could get any back my legs had sunk beyond the tops of the famous YELLOW wellies! Opps!

The guys from the building site on the opposite bank were pissing themselves laughing, and shouting. [As yer do].

Building Site Guys: “Should we come and get you out?’

                                  SBW: “No No I’ll be fine”. [gives cheery wave]

I literally had to use my hands to dig out my boots, thankfully with my feet still in them. The mud really stank. It sucked.


Defeated but not disheartened, we retreated to The Birds Nest to plot further adventures, where our arrival was celebrated by another group of builders.

Building Site Guys: 

"Fishing in the morning, pub in the afternoon, that's the life boys"

I made him about right.
Your pal
The bushwacker

Save water! - Save For A Fly Rod?

Charles Rangeley-Wilson has made some amazing shows for TV where he's used fishing as the 'hook' for a travel show. "More about the why than the how" he never shows you how to tie anything, instead amazing photography takes you from your armchair to the natural world, while his easy charm lets him meet the locals by being there with a rod in the water.

He has just posted this excellent film he's made with the WWF about the need to protect the unique chalk streams of blighty by saving hardly any water each.

'But what price a river? A river is priceless. Especially if it is possible - which it is - to have healthy rivers and an adequate supply of affordable water.

We need to use less of it and we need to compel our government to make more sense of how we get it, so that we can see rivers like the Beane, the Darenth [where I learned to fly fish click the link], the Misbourne, the Og flowing again as they used to.

Join the WWF's campaign. Adopt your local chalk stream if you're lucky enough to live near one. Write to your MP.'

Or if you're not in the UK, enjoy the film and do something similar in your own backyard.

We could save this world - but we'll have to do it one person at a time.

Hmmmm I've working awful hard maybe I DO deserve a new fly rod..........

Your pal

SBW

I Want One - A Not So Occasional Series Pt6

The season approaches and a Suburban Bushwackers thoughts turn to; Trout, buying stuff he don't need, and milled aluminum for milled aluminum's sake.

Scholars have long known that fishing eventually turns men into philosophers. 

Unfortunately, it is almost impossible to buy decent tackle on a philosopher's salary. 

Patrick F. McManus

Sex on a stick (sticks in carbon, fiberglass or bamboo) from Halo Reels

Your pal

The Bushwacker

Jammyness? Do You Measure Up?

Here's one for the Catch-and-Release crowd, I saw it on wired.com and I thought we'd make it the subject of a little competition. My mum (mom) has just delivered a shipment of her kick-ass jam (jelly) and I'll ship a jars worth of it to the reader who sends in the best use for a tattooed tape measure. Here's what its owner/wearer (Dave Selden) uses it for

"As a woodworker-graphic designer, I use a tape measure or ruler almost every day. Now I have one always within arm's reach. I use it for my work, but also my play. I measured some trout for length with it on a fishing trip to Mount Hood this weekend."

I look forward to hearing from you
SBW