fishydreams

Everybody knows that only a complete loser would even consider taking up golf. So it probably won´t surprise you that I, myself, have a soft spot for the game. Or, at least, I used to have.

Over recent years I have pretty much abandoned golf for several reasons. First, I am no good at it. Secondly, with only a few hours each week during which it is possible to extricate myself from work and family commitments, I would rather be sneaking around on the bank of a beautiful river than searching the rough for the ball I just sliced off the fairway.

And then there is the prohibitive cost of playing here on the Costa del Sol, a golfing Mecca for those well-heeled enough to jet off from the frozen or waterlogged courses of Northern Europe, and wander around in the sunshine instead. And, finally, it is a relief also not to be associated, in any way, with men wearing stupid trousers.

The golf I played in the past was of such a consistently poor standard that we took some perverse pleasure in how awful we were. My “best” shot saw the ball not only leave the fairway, but the entire course, landing eventually on the corrugated roof of a barn in which a number of cows had been sheltering. The dome roof effectively acted as a giant amplifying drum panicking the little herd and causing the cows to gallop out of there in all directions.

My brother Sean went one better on the very first tee. He  managed to hook a shot so that it went flying at around knee height straight into the club members car park where it bounced from car to car until it eventually ran out of steam. For a while it looked like a ball in a pin ball machine.

The reason I find myself thinking about golf is that the golf swing is quite a technical thing and the steps that need to be followed and refined in developing a decent swing are, in a broad sense, not unlike those needed to develop a reasonable fly casting stroke.

First off, if you really want to leather the ball in golf the chances are you will probably screw up one of the fifty million things you need to think about to get your swing right. If this happens you might make a complete balls of the whole exercise. Likewise, a reasonable casting stroke is not a forced thing. It is not so much about how much power you add but when you add it and, crucially, when you stop adding it.

I hesitate to say much more because I realise that there are many people who are far better qualified to offer instruction than I am. I am a caster of only moderate ability myself. There are big fat books that have been written on fly casting by people who cast pretty much full-time. And then there are You tube videos, instructional DVDs and all that stuff. My favourite instructor is probably the late Mel Krieger who seems to me like such a talented and enthusiastic teacher. He died not too long ago and was an inspirational figure to many. Here is a link which will take you to one of his lessons on Youtube: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4ZDOON6pZ1Y

Just recently I took a bunch of students to do some Biology fieldwork on a local beach. The kids completed the tasks pretty fast and so I took out my fishing gear which was in the back of the car and we all had a casting competition. There were only two rules. First, whoever got the thread at the end of the leader furthest was the winner (no hook in case we impaled one another!). The second was that you had to wear the leather hat even if it made you feel pretty stupid. These kinds of rules have never deterred golfers! The final winner was disputed but all the students showed great promise. Here they are in action:

Thea Zabell getting to grips with fly casting

Clarinde prepares to take her turn

Clarinde in action

The competitors take a break from the intense pressure of competition casting! Left to right: Sami, Nico, Thea and Gary

I happen to own a boat. Well, actually that´s not true. I own a couple of float tubes which, to me at least, are boats.

My brother Sean went and built himself what is, indisputably, a proper boat. He made it from marine ply and uses it to fly fish for pike or fool around with his kids. He did a fine job on it too. He might be tempted to say to me that my float tube is not, technically, a boat. But the thing floats and you can sit in it and catch a few fish so it is pretty much a boat in every meaningful sense.

Recently though my float tube has begun to misbehave. In my last three outings bad things have happened while afloat and, while it is not really fair to blame all of them on the float tube, I am developing a feeling that this particular craft might be a tad unlucky.

First, I lost my rod and reel overboard and they sank to the bottom.

On the next outing my binoculars got flooded while sitting in a supposedly waterproof bag in the well of the boat. They are not waterproof. Now all I can see through them is a bunch of bubbles.

Most recently, air started leaking from one of the two main air bladders and makes one side dip deeper into the water.

Float tubes are not often seen in Spain and I am conscious of raising eyebrows whenever I am on the water. I am not quite sure if I am perceived as a cool fisherman out doing his thing in an innovative and modern way, or simply some ridiculous git lumbering around with a pair of fins on his feet. If I feel I am being observed I try to tidy my act up a little:  I make my casting a little less sloppy and work to land the fly consistently close to the margins where, I hope, some black bass might be holding off the steeply-sloping sides.

The last time I was out, I realised I had become the object of interest of a few bass fishermen standing on the bank who were fishing in the conventional way using lures. I have no idea what they made of me but, if they laughed, they were good enough to do it discreetly.

The fishing was poor and the bass showed zero interest in the little popper I was offering. Eventually I decided to paddle away and lose my little audience. This unfortunately wasn´t quite straightforward since the air bladder had leaked so much air, and I had lost so much buoyancy, that I was listing heavily to starboard. To compound things, the banks here are so steep that it is difficult to pull up ashore and pump up the leaking bladder. And so the bass fishermen were treated to the sight of me searching out a margin shallow enough to pull up, clambering out, and re-inflate  my ailing craft before setting sail again.

I have just taken the offending bladder out to examine it. The air is leaking from the valve. I guess I am just going to have to go ahead and get a new bladder. After all a leaking bladder is not only a problem, it is an embarrassment.

The bass often lie close to the steep margins

Where can I pull up?

My “boat” and everything you need to get afloat (as long as you don´t mind getting a wet arse!)

The offending valve

They say that the fishing on the Mataura river, in the South Island of New Zealand is the best in the world and, having lived a little while Southland and fished it myself, I wouldn´t argue.

David Murray-Orr guides on this river and knows it intimately. He was kind enough to tie me up a bunch of flies for a book I am writing and, by way of thanks, I painted a Mataura trout based on fish shown in the home page of his web site http://www.mataura.co.nz/

If you ever get a chance to visit the Mataura it is worth getting in touch with David. I doubt that anybody knows the river better.

David pointed out that I had forgotten to sign the painting that I sent him and asked me to send on a signature he could add to it before putting the thing in a frame. I managed to find another painting of the same fish which I painted at the same time. I have touched it up a little and sent it on to David. I made sure I signed it!

If anything I think this second version has a slight edge over the first due to some little tweaks I gave it to liven it up a little.

Of course no painting of a fish can ever be as pretty as the real thing but this is my best effort. I hope that he likes it!

I had hoped this year to catch a trout on Lough Arrow in County Sligo and Finian Dodd was good enough to let me take a boat out in July. The kids, Leo and Pippa, were with me. The trout kept to themselves and there were no rises to the big murrough and green peter sedges we were hoping might tempt them to the surface. The kids were sufficiently provided with wagon wheels and cup cakes to avert a mutiny, particularly when the heavens opened and it pissed rain on the three of us.

I had been hoping to catch and photograph an elusive Arrow trout with a view to painting it later. Thankfully, Finny saved the day by providing me with a few good photos of Arrow trout, one of which I painted. Finny is a great bloke and I don´t imagine anyone knows more about the Lough and its trout than he does. He and his wife Mary have revived me on a few occasions with hot tea and biscuits after the trout have ignored me and my flies. I sent the trout painting to Finny as a gift and hope it gets to him okay. I am a little worried. It has been nearly three weeks since I sent it and no word about its arrival!

Lough Arrow trout display some of the great range of colours and patterns which characterise brown trout in general. Finny recognises a number of local variants from different parts of the Lough. I catch too few of the damn things to know!

Here is the painting of an Arrow trout based on one of Finny´s pictures. I hope the original finally gets to him!