Wierd stuff

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In the first of a new season of intermittent posts, and in a shameless attempt to boost ratings (and further put off writing my own posts), it’s time to welcome my (new) other half to the Tamanawis pages. Who knows where this will lead, but we’re going to start with a crucial tool required by every fisherman’s partner, the fishing glossary. I leave the following largely unedited, though reserve the right to leave chauvinistic comments in italics..

Thoughts of a fly fisherman’s wife: Part I, The Fishing Glossary (by The FFW)

A little background

I decided to contribute to this blog for two different reasons. Firstly, I have been Mike Tamanawis’s wife for a couple of weeks now which indeed makes me a Fly Fisherman’s wife (excellent use of capitalisation), and as I have fished a couple of times I am qualified to make some comments. And secondly…

Last week during our honeymoon/fly fishing trip to Sutherland, Mike was fishing in the sea when a fisherman came to speak to me.

“What is he fishing with?”
“Well, at the beginning he used a dry fly as the fish were feeding at the surface, but as the activity was slowing down on the surface he decided to use a wet fly. We will see what happens.”

I still don’t know who was the most surprised, the fisherman, the fish or me. I just thought, “oh dear I can actually speak about fly fishing, I am officially the wife of a fly fisherman”. So here is my guide to the most important terms and ideas for a fly fisherperson.

Glossary

Waders (“The Frog”). We can say from the beginning that the film “A River Runs Through It” should be banned from all girls who will eventually be with a fly fisherman, particularly if he fishes in Scotland. The romantic idea of Brad Pitt casting in the middle of a beautiful sunny day, it is not quite my experience of fly fishing….

Chest Pack (“The Fishing Bra”). Much funnier that the normal ones used by women.

Casting. The technique of moving your arm in the manner of throwing a heavy ball, while your husband says every two minutes, “Relax, gentle, use your whole arm, imagine…relax…”

Fishing. An action used to get some food. Husband’s definition is not available in less than 2000 words.

Fishing magazines. Same every month with a bit of a variation in the pictures. Husband’s point of view: serious debates about fishing every month which can not be missed just in case they actually discover that fish really do not care about the difference between flies (in fact I sometimes feel slightly closer to the wife’s perspective on this one..).

I’ve never taken a picture of a fishing magazine, so I’ve substituted in a nice grayling instead.

Fly tying. Very scary stuff. When you discover the collection of dead animals, obsessively classified in order. And all the flies in boxes which will never be used, that is actually super scary, you should know.

Boxes. Tools used to organise any kind of thing. Husband’s definition: Endless possibilities for new systems to re-organise the flies, for the 102nd time (which actually is not that important as all the flies go with him anyway every time he goes fishing, as you never know what you could find in a very small burn).

Underwater rocks. Provide hope that a fish took your fly. Husband’s perspective: Fly lost and potentially rod destroyed if you don’t react quickly enough when you see your wife fighting with a rock as she seriously thinks that she caught the biggest fish of her/your life. Beware.

Heather. A plant which most fishing flies find very attractive. Husband’s reference: Don’t leave the wife with a rod until you cut down all the nearby heather, otherwise you will not be able to fish all day as you will be retying and cutting a lot of fishing line.

Catching a fish. Wait for your husband to deal with the rod. Husband’s definition: Hold the rod high and tighten your line with the left hand. I know because he told me many times, but it’s still impossible to apply for some reason (I have no idea why, it’s an action similar to pointing upwards at an expensive item high on a shop shelf while holding a shoping bag in the other hand).

Tree-lined rivers. That makes no sense, how could I cast? You must be joking.


Fishing without a frog in April. A bit silly.

Fishing during winter. Complete silliness (again, hard to argue really..).

Practicing casting on the grass. Serious insanity.

Marrying a fly fisherman. You should be madder than the fisherman (does help, and in this case might be true..).

– The End (not definitive or complete, and may be expanded).

Foolhardy

Not sure exactly why, but I’ve just registered for my first hill race. It’s the (reasonably famous) Carnethy 5 here in the Pentland hills. Perhaps it’s a last desperate attempt to feel like I’ve achieved something in my 20s, or perhaps it’s just to see how far away from ‘fit’ I really am. Whatever the case, come February 12th, it’s going to be carnage….

We interrupt the current spate of news items (including but not limited to, Wikileaks leaking, snowy winter, forgetful coalition partners etc..) to bring readers’ attention to a truly important piece of news.

Glasgow wins title of Curry Capital of Britain.

The oldest organisms in the world

The oldest organisms in the world.

Found via the Scottish Fly Fishing blog..

3 bits of rock

For the rest of this week there’s a beautiful sight to be seen in the western sky at dusk. A heavenly triad of a waxing moon, the bright planet Venus, and the more rarely seen planet Mercury. I’ve only been able to spot Mercury using binoculars. Here’s a photo, in case it helps anyone who’s interested. Can you spot which is which? Click the picture and you’ll see my highly swish overlay to guide your attention.

As a true space geek I’ve been keeping track of the planets with the amazing (free) Stellarium planetarium software. If you are at all interested by space and the night sky it’s a must.

I can’t help but feel excited by seeing a planet like Mercury, almost hidden in the orange afterglow of sunset. Perhaps it’s the fact that without looking, you’d never know it was there.

It’s not fishing as we know it, but it does involve standing around looking at the sky (which just about sums up my fishing so far this season).

Baldness is good for you!

It’s been a long while with no good posts. A new job and busier life are making blog time extremely limited. However, I spotted this and couldn’t resist posting it up.

“Baldness ‘could be good for your health’ say scientists”, from the BBC website…

Slightly reassuring for those of us feeling light headed in the non-alcoholly way.

Illusions

I don’t often post useless non-fishing-related nonsense on Tamanawis (read that carefully), but I couldn’t resist this amazing wee link. Discovered via the always interesting Astronomy Picture of the Day at NASA (see the Wiki here as well), comes the fascinating research of the Department of Brain and Cognitive Sciences at MIT.

same_color_illusion

Check out their page of optical illusions here (you’ll need to allow popups). I particularly like the Koffka Ring illusion..

Just had to post this.

First off a wonderful wee article about the vendace, the UK’s rarest freshwater fish: click here.

Then a pretty unbelievable, and extremely unrelated, article from down in New Zealand: click here. Gave me a good wee chortle that one.

Sheep!

It’s not fishing, but it is amazing.

I saw something this weekend to make your eyes widen and your pee turn slightly purple. I was on a wee single track road in the west highlands, checking out a loch I want to fish. Suddenly a sheep came zipping past, faster than I ever realised a sheep could travel (that wasn’t in shrink wrap in the back of a Sainsbury’s lorry). A swift, slightly manic`bound’ I would say. About two seconds later a pair of collies tore past me and bolted up the grassy bank to try and cut off the sheep’s escape route. The whole shebang then ensued, around the corner, before replaying in the opposite direction as once more the sheep bounced past me along the road with the dogs in eager chase. This time, however, there was a cattle grid fifty yards down the road. I expected the sheep to come to a spluttering halt, but instead she jumped clean over the grid and careered off down the road. Even the wily dogs were careful enough to go through the large open gate right next to the grid.

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For the last two days I’ve woken up with this bizarre image in my mind of that fluff ball of a sheep in mid-air over the cattle grid. I went to check it out, and it was longer than I am tall, which must make it at least 2 metres. That is some sheep.

Fishing this weekend I hope. Then it’ll be back to real blog posts and not this kind of sheepishness.

People say: “they don’t make stuff like they used to”. I say this, my pals say this and my dad certainly says this (though I secretly think he’s referring to people as well…). It was rather nice this evening to see that in some quarters, at least, they actually DO make stuff properly, like they used to, good and hard.

I’m always on the look out for a hook to turn a bad situation into something positive, and hopefully something to write on the blog, and this momentous event certainly falls into this category. This afternoon I bought (or rather, WAS bought) a rather cracking bottle of fine single malt whisky. Having taken a good while in the shop carefully sifting through a few malts, I decided on something I hadn’t tried before, from the west coast of Islay. It was a Bruichladdich, and mighty fine she was too.

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As I climbed out the car this evening, I put the shining silver case on the roof of my car. Unbeknown to me it was upside down, so after locking the car and turing to gather the whisky and other faff I hoisted her briefly into the air only for the bottle inside to quietly slip out and roll off the roof. I’m sure the scene was comical: a bottle of fine malt careering off the roof, with a stupefied punter moving in comical slow motion to try and grab it whilst simultaneously grasping a large potted plant and two cameras.

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The bottle hit the deck with a bone crunching, slightly eye watering `ting’ before quietly rolling up against the pavement. I dashed over, picked her up and cradled her in my shaking arms. Unbroken, just slightly chipped. That is some hard-ass glass man shit. It’s nice to see something made good and proper.

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I raised a quiet toast this evening to a fine malt, a solid bottle and good the old fashioned tough stuff spirit. It’s important for fly fishing too, of course. Not long to go now…

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Um…

There’s something strangely voyeuristic about losing your hair. It’s like watching a car crash in extremely slow motion. You know what’s coming, and it’s not pleasant, but it is somewhat fascinating. For a time you quietly pretend it’s not happening, as if looking away will solve the problem. But gradually, as the cars get closer and the sink gets increasingly clogged, it’s harder and harder to ignore.

Going au naturel when young is perhaps the cruelest way. The teenage years are only just gone, and finally you’re getting a little more comfortable with the carcass God gave you. Every now and then you notice what it’s like to be an ‘adult’. Feelings of responsibility, guilt and an increasing desire to go fishing 24/7. You realise time does move on, some things do change and you do grow slowly older.

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