Saturday, 11 March 2017

Pay The River Man

I'm not sure about you, but I do not measure my life in birthdays, or the calendar year. For me it's always been that nine month stretch. One minute it's opening day, you blink and it's over.

Six hours today in seemingly ideal conditions, resulted in a blank. No follows, no signs of fish. Three miles or so of river travelled, back and forth  and nowt. Why, well if I knew the answer to that I'd have a Youtube channel preaching to the masses. Flogging lures, line and christ knows what else, sitting in a Yoda like stance and making a mint.

But overall it's been a cracking season. Some good fish have hit the net, had some right laughs afloat with Gruff. Fuck me, every time we went out the weather was jank. An long may it continue, the laughter and general piss taking among a group of mates. No pretensions of being a superstar. It's a hobby to most of us, not an outlet for an ego and a lifestyle choice, rod in your mouth photo anyone?

The old boy is looking a little tired as of now, he could do with a break. Time to breath, talk in the ancient Entish language, without the likes of me, ripping off his branches while retrieving badly cast lures and fuck me I'm gold standard at that discipline.





So I packed up and came home, fishless but unbowed.


But as always at the end of my angling season I paid the river man. I'm sure it's not only me who does this. You owe him, for all the enjoyment over the last nine months. You throw your pound coin in, salute your adversary. I've tried to love canals and lakes, really have. But my heart belongs to flowing water, I'm lucky in that I seldom see a soul when out and long shall that remain.


Be Lucky

Monty D

1 comment:

  1. I've always attributed a female gender to rivers as they are such changeable moody bastards.

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