Here are some shots of playing a fish at 2:40pm UK time but into the last half hour of MV2014
Fish number 30 was a good moment for obvious reasons also after years of trying I finally caught a fish ‘walking the fly out of the pool’ – something I read about in a book by the great W B Currie, Days and Nights of Gamefishing.
Good friends made (this is Michael by the way, above playing a fish with Russian guide Ivan, and below on a rock by the aptly named Picnic pool, a salmon and grayling cooking in a fire t’other side of it)…
And here’s lodge mate Paul. I think I’m right in reporting that he caught 15 salmon on this Red Frances on the last day (Friday). Congrats you fished hard Paul and were well rewarded and kept the ‘chalet’ total chugging along nicely as I couldn’t even get out of single figures (albeit 2 days of 9 ha ha)
With top chaps like Middle camp manager Terry Mallin
A dream, so there it is. Or rather it isn’t. But the memories pile in as the jetlag fades and a mass of material organises itself into the spaces between dreams. A remembered smile, a joke between friends, the shreik of a Hardy Angel as a fish returned White Sea-wards, shredding a leader against a rock (a big fish, naturally). And making up for the lost ones, the two fish I tailed after the leader parted, diving in. Choppers and dippers. Sea eagles pointed out by a whistle from a man in a loud hat on the other bank (thanks Paul, I thought you were saying, ‘Bear!’).
And oh those fish. And the wild northern light at midnight.