The fishing season just gone.
It’s been amazing really. A very special time, a revelation, a watershed, seminal.
But now over.
It also marks the end of a year that started with my getting made redundant, and ended with getting a better job than the one I had before (central London, blogging from the train as I travel down for Day 1).
Born to fish, forced to work: well this is the work bit. Ah well.
I shall carry on blogging through the winter months because there’s plenty that happened to tell, or rather that I haven’t told already.
(Also those daily train journeys with remarkably good internet + the Samsung Galaxy.)
My last 1.5 days on the upper Nith at Ryehill did not bend the rod & as evident in the photo above I took it easy.
But what a lovely place.
So it’s a year of 23 salmon. Yes 18 of them in Russia but that’s not the point.
What is the point? Well my biggest and best fish was a cock fish just shy of 19lb from the Nith last week, for starters. Big thrill. And the fly-caught 15-pounder from the Miramichi was another highlight. And the 10lb licer from the Gaula’s Bridge Pool on a perfect Blue Charm.
But no, that’s not the point either. Henry David Thoreau said it’s not the fish we’re after.
Well, it’s something like that. I’ll keep thinking.. and fishing.