On The Line
This afternoon I watched as three strangely attired men splashed about in the River Ness trying to pull a slithering, wriggling creature from the water. There was a police car parked nearby and one of Northern Constabulary's finest had walked down the river bank to get a closer view. His female colleague stayed in the vehicle, observing the proceedings from a safe distance. Suddenly there was a flash of silvery scales and the beast emerged. The fish, I mean, not the fellow officer.
I think it was a salmon. It might have been a sea trout. Where's David Attenborough when you need him?
To be honest, I've never really understood the appeal of angling despite my Dad's best efforts. I must have been nine years old when he took me into a shop and bought me all the gear; the rod, the spinner, the hooks and, well, you know the kind of stuff I'm talking about. Tackle! Yes, that's the word I was searching for.
"A fisherman is born!" Dad announced to the shopkeeper and they both looked at me in a way that made me blush and step backwards into a stack of waders. I think that was the point that Dad started to have his doubts.
Or maybe it was at the loch when I had tangled my line in a clump of submerged weeds, even though I had been told repeatedly not to cast in that direction.
Or maybe it was after I had snagged another line in a tree.
Or that time I got the hook stuck in my thumb.
The truth is, I loved everything about those fishing trips except the actual fishing. I loved driving to the loch and talking about "the conditions" and wondering if the fish would be biting today. I loved the noise of the spinner and the swish of the line just before it hit the electricity pylon. I loved the huge corned beef sandwiches that Dad had made up for us the night before. I loved scaring my sister with a tin of live maggots.
As I say, it was all great, apart from the fishing business.
And today at the Ness, as I watched that poor creature thrashing about on the ground before being thrown back in the water, I still couldn't see a point to it all.
I dare say the fish aren't that keen on it either.
Comments
or to comment.