Fly Fishing By ....

.... not JR Hartley, I didn't get the chap's name and didn't give him mine but I have spent hours at Panshanger Park in the company of a fly fisherman.

I went there in the hope of seeing/photographing the osprey that has visited recently. I walked along the banks of the River Mimram which features in Stevie Smith's River God poem.

"I may be smelly, and I may be old,
Rough in my pebbles, reedy in my pools,
But where my fish float by I bless their swimming
And I like the people to bathe in me, especially women."

Actually the river is nothing like Stevie describes it. It's a chalk stream said to be rarer than rain forest. The springs that feed it also feed the lake where I encountered the fly fisherman. I asked if he had caught anything and he replied, "Yes, I suppose you want to get a photograph."

He had been fishing since 7:00 am and had caught three fish. I photographed the largest. We got talking and I don't know where the hours went. He offered me a bagel, whisky and beer, which I declined. He showed me how to cast and I made reasonable job of it. The fish stopped biting so he asked me to choose a different fly from his collection. I chose one that looked like a blue damselfly. He fixed it to a barbless hook and in no time had landed the above rainbow trout.

He dispatched it quickly with a sharp blow to the back of its head. He now had enough to feed his family. It is a shame that the fish had to die but if one loves to eat fish, as I do, one must face the reality and come to terms with it.

I had such an enjoyable afternoon in the sunshine learning about stuff I've never had anything to do with before.