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I cleaned out my fishing box this afternoon. It’s a large white Ikea-esque plastic job. I use it as a bin, chucking all potentially-needed gear into it before transfer into the boot of the car. It’s like a travelling fishing wardrobe. Waders, chest pack, spare spools, fly boxes, partially decayed bananas. I’ve found some fascinating biology in it over the years, at all stages from off-fresh to genetically-evolved beyond all comprehension.

Removing the large items from around the box I found a fine layer of various detritus and dust on the bottom. And there in one corner was an upwing spinner, decayed as far as to leave just a paper-thin body shell. Heaven knows during which season it came to find itself there. It might have been an olive upright, but I wasn’t sure. Feeling that warm and slightly intangible connection to the river one still feels when not actually there, I dug out the camera and photographed. I then picked it up, examined it closely, and gave it a gentle tap. It disintigrated into tiny pieces, joining the rest of the dust and detritus in the bottom of the box. I wondered how it had managed to stay in one piece for so long, hidden away from all the random junk that lives in there.

I couldn’t help consider how long it would take for the rest of the box’s contents to reach a similar state of decay, poised between form and dust. Let’s hope at least the shiny aluminium reel has a few years left.


There are a select number of masochistic fly anglers who head out to frigid rivers in mid March hoping for olives and rising trout. I’m not one of them (this year anyway). However, plans are afoot for the coming weekend as we go past the ‘real’ starting day, April 1st. In the meantime, there was some nice soft light this evening, but a fairly bracing chill to the air. Pleasant enough, however, for a quick stroll to stretch the legs.

The season’s passing has me wondering about all the places I didn’t fish this year. The hundreds and hundreds of lochs and lochans which have drawn my imagination away from this desk. They’ll be there again, next year, calm and fiesty pools in which to cast away an hour’s thoughts.

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.

Down by the river today. I saw creepy crawlies, daddy-long-legs a-skipping by, and rusty sedges waving in the breeze. Frogs and trees and sun and leaves, I saw them all and stood and waited. The season’s ‘shrooms and last winged olives, they all were there as the shadows lengthened.

But the river stayed brown, and high and coloured, from no matter which angle I looked and stuttered. Perhaps a bugger would have done, but somehow it didn’t seem right. I walked and walked, then turned and tried, to photograph the sight of clouds drifting by in a golden sea of light.

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