On Tuesday, I went to The Whinney with a neighbour who had decided to use his late son's fishing gear, some years after both his son's death and his own coarse fishing exploits. Ted Wise wasn't in when we called at the house and he had been earmarked for giving advice to my neighbour about his tackle.
The neighbour's rod, his late son's rod, had no markings; the utilitarian reel had no weight markings and held a very short, tired, old line. After a brief chat, I suggested he should use the matched up spare rod and reel that I had brought along. We attached leader to line, flies to leader, and plodded down to the loch.
Much casting took place, far too quick (is this a symptom of previous coarse casting experience?) and he suffered the pain of being helped by someone with absolutely no teaching ability and precious little fishing knowledge. Every now and again, I scuttled off, scooped up my rod and cast out, thinking "What can I DO?" as my pupil whizzed his line back and forth, with terrifying speed, the poor line never having a moment to streak out behind him. Part of me wanted him to have a good time, the other part feared for my beloved rod.
Someone else on the loch caught a fish. "Be alert" I whispered loudly "They're taking now", thinking "Ye gods, I'm out of my depth."
I missed 3 fish, no change there. I DID point my rod tip at the fly, Hywel Morgan et al, but multi-tasking is clearly beyond me.
Changed flies four times. Then remembered the black-tailed tufty and FISH! A 3.5lb rainbow for me. There is a God, I thought.
Now relaxed, I peered at my friend. Dawned on me that the 10' 7/8# rod set up might suit him better than the one I'd lent him. Reeled in, announced an exchange of kit, telling him he now had 'the catching fly'.
His casting improved instantly, a relief to us both. Then he hooked a 4.5lb rainbow, played it just fine, I landed it.
After feeding ourselves in the comfy lodge, with the neighbour's wife (who had kindly walked my dog while hubby fished) and Marion (who caught a brownie on other side of loch from us but came up with a lovely s salmon flan for lunch) we went back up to see Ted. With the charm and kindness that marks out Ted Wise from most of the rest of us
, the unmarked rod was inspected and approved, the reel was accepted, the tired line was condemned. Ted's knowledge and advice was all-important to the success of the day.
Result then: neighbour has been introduced to loch fly-fishing. He has a fish. And his late son's rod will soon be graced by a decent line, and perhaps the pain of his loss will be lessened.
Trish
Horror story but all ends well...
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