Corduroy

Harry Becker - 1948

Forgotten then were the disconsolate, the rainy days.

Time and tide.....

I've sort of mostly lived near the sea, close but never this close. I get twitchy now if I don't see it, even a glimpse. When we first moved here I vowed and imagined I would walk the beach every day.

Of course there have been periods when it has been taken for granted and days do drift by without my fix. That is not the case now this minute or of late for I can't get enough of it. The recent storms also meant it was nearer - wind direction, wave height, land slips, beach cargo booty and flotsam have kept it news worthy and close to mind.

Rivers are my arena for quiet contemplation, but I find the beach has taken over. Taken over for the time being and certainly where I find myself more often than not for contemplative recreation. I am there like a piece of driftwood and over the last few weeks miss it like mad and when I do visit I return home with pockets full of items that are hard to leave on the foreshore. I think I bring them back to keep the connection live and they help on days that I cannot hear the crunch of shingle beneath my feet.

It won't be long now - change is afoot. I can hear it in the skylarks call as it rises and falls above the clifftop meadows. Won't be long until the first mackerel arrive and we can angle for our supper to be cooked over a driftwood fire.

For now though I am content with the quiet trundle of calmer waves with the sun on my face, but there is still just enough of a nip in the air to warrant another mug of beef tea and contemplate times past and those who won't be here when the mackerel arrive.

The Cockle Man

Now I am partial to a cockle or two and not only as a snack brought on by the munchies in the pub. At one time they were the only bait on a summer fishing trip and I mean the only bait - perfect for carp and tench and the more rancid the better. Some of my best fish have had a liking for them.

Haven't had or used one for a while and this lovely tin, a recent find, brought them back into mind. A Berwick Cockle has no association with the sea though! It's a humbug or mint ball - I've never had one, so can't comment on what they taste like. Great tin though.

Talking of cockles, take a look at this film "The Cockle Man" by father and son film makers Matt and Mark Daunt. It tells the tale of Dave Bartram who trawls the pubs of Nottingham selling his cockles from his basket. Could do with a Dave in the pubs around here. Super stuff.

Much calmer and set fair!

The old barometer hasn't swung this far to the right for what seems like months. I have a sneaking suspicion it may go even further into uncharted waters next week. That's just fine for me as it's the last week of the coarse fishing season and as per usual there is a flurry of activity here at Straker Towers. Plans are hatched, tackle is assembled and polished, sandwiches made and picnics thought of, maggots curried and lobworms nurtured. High pressure at last knockings at seasons end is something to celebrate. No cowering under an Efgeeco brolly and damp escaping bait to contend with!

Before all that though it's time for a celebratory pint of Brancasters finest and a firm favourite of mine - Oyster Catcher. There will be much more of this over the next few days I can tell you. Spring is on its way!  

Calmer?

A paucity of posts, sorry about that. It's been a trying few weeks, much calmer now. A little bit of Cluster for this day of St David. The soundtrack for calmer skies and seas!

Friday Face

Happy Birthday Bernard!

My friend, Bernard Venables, would have been 107 years old today - it is hard to believe that thirteen years have passed since he sadly passed away in 2001. He was an inspiration to many - to me he epitomised good angling, good values, ideals, friendship, traditionalism and kindness. Bernard is everything that I hold dear with angling and I know that I am not alone.

Bernard Venables, self portrait - Memorial Service 2001

I am re-reading some of his wonderful books - A Rise To The Fly (Robert Hale Ltd) came out in 2000 and as I read it now I can hear Bernard's lovely dulcet tones as I turn each page. When I first met him he told me "first and foremost I am artist, an artist who just happens to go fishing". 

1948 FA Book for Boys

1949 FA Book for Boys

I surprised and excited him on subsequent meetings by showing him various other books and bits of ephemera he had illustrated and were long forgotten. Since his passing I have amassed quite a collection and on this special day I share a small selection with you.

Deerskin Island Mystery - 1945

The Hunting of Zakaroff - 1946

The picture below brings a smile to my face - just after it was taken, the assembled members of the Golden Scale Club let off a superb rocket from the pub garden (I won't name the hostelry!). We all whooped with joy, no-one more so than Bernard. The landlord ran out of the pub and banned us all instantly - he looked at BV and said "..and you are old enough to know better" - a magical memory.

Gerry Berth-Jones, Maurice Ingham, Ferneyhough Yates and BV - GSC AGM Hampshire, 1996

I am sure I will not be alone when I raise a glass of ale and give thanks to Bernard this evening.   
 

Tanks - Country Life, 1942

What's the secret?

I love fly fishing, but fly fishing books bore the pants off me...............well, the majority of them do. I don't quite know what it is, but something to do with all the macho posturing with gear and making everything over technical for the sake of it. It doesn't help matters and means fly fishing titles are thin on the ground in my library.

The only writings I have really enjoyed are those by Bernard Venables, Oliver Kite and more recently Charles Rangeley-Wilson. They are all noticers. Notice the world around them and most certainly like to smell the herbage along the way.

There is one writer though, one that I got into more recently, that really hits the spot for me and he has a new book coming out in April. The mighty John Gierach. This short piece of footage is a joy - roll on the Spring!

What's the secret? Go ahead and do what you think you want to do!

Tramp on a tricycle

John Bennett, traveller, Dolton, Devon - James Ravilious (1980)

This has to be one of my favourite photographs by James Ravilious. I always enjoy examining the contents of this wayfarers rucksack.......just in case I missed something last time. It sort of fuels my interest in the wayfarer and men of the road and river. I think Francis Francis had the same interest - always yarning with old tramps and bait diggers by the Thames beside an upturned boat.

Many years ago, when we lived up in the Cotswolds, I returned home one evening to find a tricycle parked in our garden out of sight. In the wood next to our cottage was the mirror image of John Bennett sitting by a fire with a long dog that had more ribs on view than anything else. He ate our duck eggs and bacon that night and all I could find out was that he was an ex-dock worker from Glasgow.

He had left in the morning by the time I got up leaving only footprints and a piece of cloth tied to the hedge - I often wonder what the piece of cloth meant, maybe it's safe here?    

When will it end?

The weather has been atrocious for weeks now - all through Christmas and into this new year. More this weekend too with another batch of high spring tides. I am longing for cold and frosty days and for the rivers to drop so I can actually cast a line for............something, anything! The Avon will be up for weeks as the groundwater has now kicked in - it is as clear as a bell and in places crystal clear to a depth of eight feet or more. The Stour now reacts to the smallest amount of rain and resembles chocolate soup after each downpour.

I missed autumn on the riverbank and also the apple harvest. The family orchard up country resembles a neglected Christmas tree with its baubles covering the carpet of grass. The Fieldfares, Redwings and Song Thrush are happy with that and our Labrador who hoovers them up when our backs are turned and then duly farts like a trooper for days - the joy of it! 

West Bay Esplanade - after the large stones and rocks were removed!

What I have managed to do is collect some superb flotsam and jetsam from our West Dorset beaches - more often than not it has been totally unsafe to venture anywhere near the beach, but on the odd calm day it is amazing what the sea provides. 

West Bay Harbour - One of the calmer days!