Category: Fish and fishing


Feckin flies

I spent Sunday afternoon and evening with Steven Lawler on the Guadalhorce river. Steven has recently been out in Bosnia fishing for trout and grayling and he showed me some of the tiny nymphs and dries used to catch them in gin-clear water. He said he figured I would like Bosnia and after listening to tales of his adventures there I must admit that it sounds like my kind of place.

We had no prospects of catching trout or grayling on the Guadalhorce of course but were looking forward to catching some barbel and maybe, if the gods smiles on us, a carp or two. Continue reading →

I don´t know if you have read The Hunger Games or seen the films they made of these books. Pippa is a big fan and dragged me off to the cinema to watch them. I won´t ruin the plot but the story involves young people meeting untimely and often violent ends, often at the hands of others of a similar age.

This is an interesting and disturbing theme and breaks the Hollywood mould somewhat. After all the ones who get killed in the movies are usually “baddies” and, franky, we are all perfectly happy to see the end of them.

In the Hunger Games a bunch of kids are selected and thrown into some huge arena where they have to survive and kill one another until only one remains. It is the kind of thing that the Romans would have loved but with a few futuristic elements thrown in for good measure.

When these poor unfortunate kids are selected for the games by the “Capitol” they often hear the catch phrase “may the odds be ever in your favour” Continue reading →

Camping may not seem like a particularly glamorous activity to most people. Most of the camping I used to do was on the shores of loughs. We went fishing not camping. We just slept in tents. Our camp sites were open fields. There was grass, rain, and wind and not much else. Cows would wander around and occasionally make nuisances of themselves. Once, memorably, they relieved themselves all over the sides of our tents while we were away fishing and when we eventually returned in the dark and turned in for the night we found the zips and fly sheets and guy ropes were liberally coated in cow shit.

There was certainly no glamour on those trips – that´s for sure. There were no facilities of any kind – everything you needed you brought yourself or, more often, you forgot to bring. If you wanted a shower you just stood out in the rain. It was always raining. Continue reading →

Last week I managed to fool a nice carp with an odd looking fly I found in the bottom of my fly box. The carp may have been pretty but the fly it fell for was ugly and scruffy. It looked as though it had been out for a night on the beer and had not shaved for a few days. I had no other fly quite like it and so decided to take a photo while out on the riverbank in case I should lose it. You never know – that kind of thing might be useful for the future. Continue reading →

Today was as good a day on the river as I can remember for some time. As I was heading out I was trying to decide which of two stretches of river to visit and I opted, in the end to go to Estación de Cártama and just walk upstream for a way. There were quite a few people having picnics and barbecues, this being a popular area with the public, but it took just a river crossing and a short walk upriver to find myself alone. Continue reading →

I was driving home from the the river today and bumped into my neighbour Andrés. He is another fisherman, just like me, except that he fishes only in the sea. I told him I was had been to the river and had caught three barbel. He asked me what kind of size they were and I used the universal gesture that indicates the length of the fish as the distance between the palms of the hands. I told him the best fish might have been a kilo and a half, mas o menos.

Then he put me to shame by pointing out that he had recently caught a “mero” of 14kg in Algeciras. “Jesus, that´s a big fish” I thought “but what the hell is a mero?” Continue reading →

Old Trout

Every now and then I start out on a painting and then, for one reason or another, forget about it. I came across an old trout today that I had started a long while ago and, having a little time on my hands, I thought I might see if I could finish it off.

It is now more or less done and so I popped out a few minutes ago to take a picture of it before the evening steals too many of its colours.

Here she is. An old trout.

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This weekend was my first chance to get out on the river for a while and I managed to fish on the evenings of both Saturday and Sunday. The river was in pretty good shape and there were a few fish around.

The gypsy barbel seemed very spooky initially and I was forced to go down in size both in nymph and leader. Curiously the fish would often be frightened of the little splash created by the nymph as it landed. When they are “on” they can often be attracted to this and even swim over to investigate, often accepting the fly in the process. I found that it was better to offer the fly from slightly upstream and often give the nymph a little movement when it was close to the fish. Continue reading →

My brother Sean and our old fishing buddy Mark McCann have just done a stint fishing the mayfly in Ireland. They fished Lough Arrow in County Sligo where Sean and I used to live many years ago in an building which had previously been a school house. I asked Sean to report back on his adventure and he sent me an email today. I will stick photos on some time if I can extract any out of Mark.

That´s enough of a preamble from me. Nobody writes a better fishing report than Sean so here we go…..

Continue reading →

If I could be in any one place at any one time I would be hard pressed to suggest anything that would trump an evening like this one on the Guadalhorce river. In many ways I can appreciate it more for having been a spur of the moment decision. The weather looked good, I didn´t have much work to do and so I just said to myself “why not?”

The fishing was good too. I picked up a three barbel in pretty short order. The first of these was wounded in the middle of its back around the dorsal fin. The wound looked like the kind made from above, by a heron perhaps. Continue reading →