Lake Of The Dead.

It is a few minutes after five o’clock on the last day of July 1991. The air is still, humid. That stifling torpor of mid summer lethargy. Slowly, I am making my way along a narrow spit that juts out into the lake. I am already sweating and the sun hasn’t even begun to lightContinue reading “Lake Of The Dead.”

Spring; the season of hope lies ahead.

The river Culm was raging today. An express train of uninviting slate grey water with a heavy cargo of flotsam of all kinds. All fish life had their heads down and were wearing tin helmets. The coarse fishing season is waving a white flag to nature’s relentless ravaging. On the plus side there was aContinue reading “Spring; the season of hope lies ahead.”

Winter’s Rewards

Keep it simple. Just a rod, a reel and some bread and worms for bait and a small measure of expectancy that hangs like your breath in the air. There is a strangely perverse pleasure to be had by spending a few hours on the riverbank in Winter. The coldness of the silt filled riverContinue reading “Winter’s Rewards”