In the high tussock country of Otago in the South Island of New Zealand there is a little retreat to which I have been offered an open invitation. The invitation was kindly given by Murray Thompson and the little oasis, just spitting distance from the lake shore, is Murray´s fishing hut.

About a year ago Murray was good enough to send me a few pictures of some trout from the lake because I wanted to have a stab at painting them. The trout from Onslow are, not unexpectedly, varied in size and appearance and I realise that a typical “Onslow” trout does not exist beyond what we might imagine or can remember if we were lucky enough to have been there.

Of the pictures he sent me, one of the trout in particular grew to represent the fish of the entire water. And even though I recognise this is, necessarily, an artefact, it has become, for me at least, “the” Onslow trout.

It is not a great photograph and I suspect it was taken in the dying light, perhaps with a mobile phone. The fish is big but I don´t know how big. I doubt that it was weighed and I suspect that it might have been “en route” to the dinner pot when it was captured, for a second time, on film.

I know almost nothing beyond this. I don´t know who caught it, although I suspect it was Murray himself and I vaguely remember the file being called “Dad´s Trout.” Nor, crucially can I really make out the colours although the pattern of spots is pretty striking.

When I look at the grainy picture of the late evening fish I can “feel” Onslow. I can imagine the quick photo, the prospect of a beer back in the hut, the welcoming light, the laughter coming from inside, the heat of the stove.

I sent a painting of the fish to Murray a little while back and I hope it gets to him safe and sound. In in the meantime, I painted it again in the colours that I can only dream it may have worn.

The big Onslow trout

The big Onslow trout

Murray Thompson´s trout

Murray Thompson´s trout