Trout Fishing in Lincolnshire
Looking at my brother’s blog I was reminded of my life past, it made me think of the days I used to go fishing and days of yore …
Prepare yourself for an old picture of me as: Goldeneye Goes Fly fishing for trout in Lincolnshire
I have had some fabulous times fishing both man and boy. My father taught me how to fish and it still strikes me today as a fabulous rites of passage activity.
If I had a son I should certainly have taken him angling, even in today’s modern times of computer games etc I defy any boy not to be enthralled if the father simply has time for him and takes him to Go A’ Angling
Fishing at Thorpe Vale Trout Lake
This would have been taken well over 10 years ago, hair tied back as it was half-way down my back \m/
The fish I’m pictured with was caught by me using a fly I tied myself, the fish was a Rainbow Trout weighing 4.5 lbs.
The hat and sunglasses are obligatory when fly fishing, that said I needed no excuse to wear a Sherlockian style deer stalker (he never wore one by the way)
I can’t help thinking it’s something I ought to take up again.
It’s spooky as I was just talking to a young lad today who was fishing the ponds on the nature park behind La Casa Goldeneye.
He was spinning for perch and pike, enjoying himself without drinking cider and setting fire to cars.
It brought back memories of pike fishing and then strangely my brother mentions the self same thing on his blog.
They were halycon days - truly they were and I’m reminded of the quote (roughly)
God does not take from us time spent fishing
Regards
Retrospective Rod
Little Brother said,
April 9, 2008 @ 11:46 pm
Rod,
I have thought a lot recently about our upbringing and how lucky we were/are. Writing the post you mention I came across a photograph of you, waist high in Brothers Water casting a fly. The photograph reminded me of what is truly important about photography, not the technical aspect but the purpose the picture serves. I am fortunate to own a very good camera with lenses to match and I cast a critical eye over every shot I take but this photograph was taken with a ‘point and shoot’ Canon Sureshot with no consideration to white balance, shutter speed and the like. My first thought was; ‘That’s my brother’ the second, ‘We had a great day together’ Despite all of the mod cons I know posess I am yet to take a picture which affects me in the way that point and shoot has.
You mention pike fishing, you may recall a post I wrote about our pike fishing days on the Ancholme and the photographs I took when I revisited the river, well, yesterday I found an old photograph taken from one of those days. The composition of the photograph was near identical, the exact bend of the river and its location escapes me but not the memory.
Thursday 10th April serves as a timely reminder, methinks.
LB
Rod said,
April 10, 2008 @ 8:23 am
Yeah
I hear all that brother.
Looking back on old fotos always sets the mind in motion, which is why I wrote this post some time ago about losing our heritage due to digital photography.
RC
Jordan said,
April 10, 2008 @ 9:58 am
RC
Nice fish!
All existence fades to a being of my soul and memories and the sounds of the river and a four-count rhythm and the hope that a fish will rise. Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it. The river was cut by the world’s great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time. On some of those rocks are timeless raindrops. Under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs. I am haunted by waters.
Jordan
Rod said,
April 10, 2008 @ 2:33 pm
Jordan
What a passage that is - to have written just that which you quote in one lifetime would be a life well spent !
One of the best books I have ever read - A River Runs Through It by Norman Maclean.
In fact, I’m just finsihing off Excalibur and when I do I’ll read it again.
Sorry for the late reply, just back from a bun fight to celebrate my father’s 81st birthday
Best
RC
A Retired Bookdealer said,
April 11, 2008 @ 6:03 pm
Great stuff - thoroughly enjoyed reading this, thanks for reminding me of the days I spent fishing, happy times.
It always fascinated me as to how fast time went, when fishing, 5am in the morning to 5pm at night seemed to fly by.