this 51cm – 20″ beauty from a northern England limestone creek was a special fish, a two fisher fish.
i had spotted it holding in its shallow lie and covered it several times with several generic mayfly imitations but it wasn’t in the least bit interested so after a while i insisted that it was buddy Mark Legget‘s turn to temp it.
several “no, you spotted it, its yours” and “yeah, but it doesn’t like me and i really want you to catch it”s later, he not-really reluctantly gave in and positioned himself while i spotted from up on the bank and two perfect drifts later hooked up. after a good fight from both parties i landed it for Mark and we where able to briefly admire it from close up.
memory’s poor, i’ve always had a hard time remembering numbers, but i believe it was around 1,6kg – 3 1/2 lbs. that’s no record by any means but its really an awesome fish for such a small stream but a lot more than that, this was the nicest catch in ages.
Mark was of course happy but something deep inside tells me that i was a lot happier, reminding me of my youth and Hugo my godmother’s husband who was a ‘second father’ for me of sorts who so frequently brought me along on his fishing trips and who was always ecstatic when i’d manage to bring a fish to the net, no matter its size.
we’re of about the same age and Mark and i of course don’t have the mentor/parental or whatever else connection i had with Hugo but this fish left a similar feeling; of having shared and completed a scenario with its wished-for outcome as a team making it a much greater sum than its parts. the circle is complete.
Bubbles reminded me of being a little kid in the local lake just sitting there, feeling the water, head just above the surface blowing little bubbles because blowing little bubbles is tingly, they make a heck of a lot more noise underwater than above and it just feels good and exciting.
this is probably the most beautiful fish film i’ve ever seen.
no more words are necessary nor could they do it justice… enjoy !
no, you’re neither hallucinating nor seeing a fish who can actually simultaneously open and closed its mouth. this dark and beautiful highland-like, yet caught in somewhat southern Scotish brown trout’s strange powers come not from the trout itself but from the stacked-focus macro thingy the fishing camera can do. in geek talk…
it takes about eight images that all later blend in together but since they’re shot in sequence, those eight images need a lot more time than a standard one image so, if the subject moves during the exposers, the camera will register all the combined images similar to the trippy double/multiple exposures that where common before the digital era and thats for my eyes, a pretty darn cool thing to see pop up, specially when it ‘just popped up’ instead of being planned.
I’m having a great-great trip in Scotland this year and Mikey was gorgeous. this image doesn’t do it justice, specially in the Highland-like description I tried to give him above but just take my word for it please.
or did i just dream all that up ?
Louis Cahill’s article made me realise that i’ve never or at least can’t remember ever having dreamt of fish, fishing or anything loosely connected to one of the activities i like doing so much when awake. following through with the theory explained in Louis’ piece that dreams are there to ‘file away’ information then that leaves two possibilities: that info is already filed away or the info is unfilable. for all i know and that ain’t much, i decided long ago that as far as dreams are concerned, i don’t want to know how or why. they’re intangible beings that operate on their own on their own schedule, sometimes entertaining, sometimes not but always interesting as long as we don’t try to make any sense of them and just take them as they are.
“I don’t know what fish dream about. Maybe they dream of the Mothers-day hatch or of shad kills. Perhaps they dream of herons or bears. Maybe they dream that they are birds soaring in the clouds. I like to think that once in a while they dream of me.
“I was just there, in that big slow run, you know the one. I was eating caddis flies and all of a sudden I was just yanked up out of the water. It was like I was swimming but I wasn’t going anywhere. Nobody would help me and I just kept getting hauled up out of the water and then, from nowhere, there was this big guy, like huge with a beard. He picked me up with both hands and he kissed me. There was a bright flash of light and I was back in the water. I think he was God. What do you think it means?”
that was just the end of this thought-provoking read. click the image for the complete article and as always great stuff on Gink & Gasoline. thanks again Louis !
or, could that be Dick and Phillip or, Jane and Dory ? to tell you the truth i couldn’t care less about their names or genders, they’re both beautiful and doing what we love to see them do: peacefully slurping down bugs and getting fat.
filmed road-side on the Goulburn river Victorian Alps-Australia, these two video treats are wonderfully unpolluted by fisherman, their gear or raunchy music. maybe they’re there to remind us that its not all about us but whatever they are… i hope you’ll enjoy.
tip- resize the image and watch them both at the same time, its really cool.
i’ve always pondered that. some of us accept we come from the sea (and i firmly intend to go back) but it’s not so clear which creature we evolved from.
MinuteEarth‘s video suggests its fish and whether it’s exact or not i like the idea as its somehow more pleasant than thinking we have our roots in kelp or some other drab organism.
whilst some of my friends appear to be direct descendants of the infamous Pink
here’s an interesting short film i hope both big and little will enjoy.
sounds cliché but how cool is this ?
Sound recordist and Montana local, ‘Fishman’ Mike Kasic, has an unmatched obsession for the underwater wilderness of the Yellowstone River. In this 10 minute essay film, Mike swims the Yellowstone like a human-fish through swift river canyons, watching trout in fast currents filled with frothing water tornadoes, stopping only to body surf river waves.
but his face told her things which she was glad to know.”
best known for his books about the teddy bear Winnie-the-Pooh, it’s pretty clear Milne knew a thing or two about perch as well.
– Brisure faite à la surface de l’eau par un poisson happant un insecte.
– or, translated from French to English: ‘a disturbance of the water’s surface caused by fish seizing an insect.
– or, more commonly ‘a rise.
this lovely short by super-talented fisher Nicolas Germain shows us a gorgeous striped brown trout having a little snack in its beautiful home. it’s hard to say but said snack seems to be a shuck but the specifics are neither here nor there; this kind of image gets any trout angler’s heart pumping a little faster, curls up the corner of our mouths and gives us the incredible urge to tackle up and go away from the screen. a lot of us are in areas of the world where trout waters are closed right now so, i guess we’ll have to skip the tackling up part but its still ok to dream… enjoy !
this otherwise flopped-photo reminds me of a fantastic quote from one of my all-time favourite photographers and somewhat mentor as i had the fantastic opportunity of being one of his assistants years ago in Paris- Nick Knight.
” I think photography has been wrestling with a burden of telling the truth, which I don’t think it was ever particularly good at “
MushMouth was an eight pound plus bruiser with an appropriately nasty kyped jaw. circumstances decided differently, preferring to show us a different truth, one i find infinitely more interesting than the truth my eyes told me.
for the full effect click the Play button below ! 😆
“Scotland (Scottish Gaelic: Alba pronounced [ˈaɫ̪apə]) is a country that occupies the northern third of the island of Great Britain and forms part of the United Kingdom.
The name of Scotland is derived from the Greek Scotos, the term applied to Gaels. The word Scoti (or Scotti) means dark because of the mist.It is found in Latin texts from the fourth century describing a tribe which sailed from Ireland to raid Roman Britain. It came to be applied to all the Gaels. It is not believed that any Gaelic groups called themselves Scoti in ancient times, except when writing in Latin. Oman derives it from Scuit, proposing a meaning of ‘a man cut off’, suggesting that a Scuit was not a Gael as such but one of a renagade band settled in the part of Ulster which became the kingdom of Dál Riata but ‘Scuit’ only exists in Old Irish as ‘buffoon/laughing-stock’ The 19th century author Aonghas MacCoinnich of Glasgow proposed that Scoti was derived from a Gaelic ethnonym (proposed by MacCoinnich) Sgaothaich from sgaoth “swarm”, plus the derivational suffix -ach (plural -aich) However, this proposal to date has not appeared in mainstream place-name studies.”
whatever it is it’s beautiful; the sort of beauty that sticks to my guts.
here’s a few images from a few weeks ago of this magical land and its inhabitants of a fantastic day spent with Al Pyke, one of the nicest persons i’ve ever met.
quote source- Etymology of Scotland