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Murray Thompson

Sad news came from New Zealand this week. A man called Murray Thompson passed away. Cancer got him. It is a long time since I met him and I met him only once. On that occasion he handed over the keys to his fishing hut on the shore of Lake Onslow to my brother and me. He didn´t know either of us from Adam. We were just a couple of fly fishermen who showed up at his door during an inhospitable spell of foul weather. We were looking for somewhere to go fishing when local rivers had become muddy torrents.

We talked a little while. Murray was famously strong and played rugby for Otago back in the day. He was as solid as an ox. When we had dispensed with a little small talk he handed over the keys and asked in return only two things; that we leave a small contribution to the upkeep of the hut, and that we leave behind something that might be of some use to subsequent visitors. He did not specify what – maybe a can of stew. Maybe a six pack of beer. View full article »

It pissed rain last night and the unrelenting downpour was such intensity that it would get the Noahs of this world asking themselves “have I got two of everything?!” There was lightning too and claps of shuddering thunder that had the dogs scratching at the front door. And then today began with open clear skies and a warm sun. Puddles on the track outside mirroring the blue sky were all that gave testament to the dramas of the previous night.

The river was swollen with rainwater. I brought the rod when I went to look, first at the Guadalhorce and then at the Río Grande in the vague hope that a quiet eddy might have a few fish I could try for. I lowered my rod top into the stained water to test the visibility and it was no more than an inch or two and it soon became clear that fly fishing was a simply not on the cards. View full article »

The fish had the last laugh on the river this afternoon. The only one I did manage to hook flew off as though he had been fired from a cannon and then buried himself in a pile of weeds. When I finally caught up with him and waded into the river to extract my leader from the weeds he got away. Good luck to him. You can´t beat a bit of initiative. View full article »

An odd thing happened this afternoon as I was exploring a little section of the Río Grande. I looked down on the arm of my short-sleeve shirt and realised I had snagged a some little twigs, probably as I had been pushing through some brush, and it was only as I was set to brush them off that I realised it was a praying mantis. View full article »

Five´s a crowd

I suppose there is a good number of reasons to go fishing but one, which comes close to the top of many of our lists, is that fishing allows you to get away from other people for a little while and this is probably something we all need to do from time to time.

So few people fish my local river that seeing another fisherman, let alone another fly fisherman, is pretty unusual. So yesterday I was rather surprised to see someone fly fishing the river at the point I first join it after a little trek through the citrus groves of the Guadalhorce Valley. This fella was accompanied by a young lady and seemed pretty focused on what he was doing and so I did not draw attention to myself and wandered off downstream. View full article »

Last Light

Every now and then you catch a fish that you know will lodge in the memory. It may not necessarily be a monster, but something in the circumstances of its capture will make it stand out. I had one of those fish yesterday evening just as the light was going and I thought all chances of a fish had passed me by.

I have often failed to catch anything and sometimes you get that feeling that this is just not going to be your day. That was certainly the way things felt yesterday. The fish were few and far between, and when I did finally manage to locate a few, they showed no interest in my nymph. View full article »

Bird watching is not rocket science. All you need is a notebook, a pair of binoculars and some kind of bird identification book.

Pippa and I reckoned that even a couple of morons like us could manage that. In the event we had no binoculars. I do actually own a pair have but they got drenched one time I took them fishing, and using them is like looking through a submarine periscope while the sub is still underwater, during the night.

When we were on our outward journey we realized that the notebook and pen were at home on the table, just beside the RSPB Complete Guide to the Birds of Britain and Europe. View full article »

Yesterday was the second day of the New Year but offered me the first chance to spend a few hours on the Río Guadalhorce and, fly rod in hand, I was keen to see if I could open my account for the New Year. The river has been fishing very well recently and I was hopeful that the fish might put in an appearance.

There is lot to be said for spending a few hours at this river, or at any river. Just think of all that water and all that air! And think of all the birds and stones and trees and maybe of a few fish, borrowed for a little moment, just so we can be reminded of how pretty they are. View full article »

In the car on the way to the river this afternoon Cher started giving me a hard time. She told me she was annoyed with me for being unfaithful to her and asked sarcastically if the woman I allegedly engaged in a bit of slap and tickle with last night was “worth it.” Then she announced that she was stronger now and was just going to get on with her life. Jesus! Give us a break! I´ve never even met the woman. Anyway, as it happens, last night I was at home watching the telly. View full article »

Karaoke in Villafranco

Sunday is Karaoke night in Villafranco. It happens all year round. In the summer the man with the microphone and the machine takes all his kit outside and the punters, performing al fresco, create a din that I can hear from the dirt tracks leading through the campo along which the dogs and I are walking, fully a kilometer away. View full article »