Steven Murgatroyd explains why he likes to fish on his own.
I am a solitary fisherman at heart, well at least I think I am. Perhaps it is something to do with the slightly romantic vision I have of fly fishing, no doubt fuelled by my love of North American writers who recount tales of disappearing into the wilderness for days on end - man against nature - that sort of thing. Not that easy to replicate in the UK - too many people, too little space, but at least I can daydream. My predilection for solo fishing may, however, have more to do with my childhood.
As an only child I naturally spent a lot of time alone and came to enjoy my own company and by necessity made a lot of my own entertainment. I think that that is what first attracted me to fishing; I regarded it as a mainly solitary pursuit, best enjoyed in isolation. It is, by its very nature a contemplative activity and it is much easier to sit and reflect when by yourself than with others. Also, I am not, essentially, a competitive person and I found that when fishing with friends, especially as a child, inevitably a competitive element would insidiously creep into the proceedings - who caught the first? the most? the biggest?... I was, and still am, content to catch just one fish and then either stop fishing or just potter about the waterside, nature watching and enjoying the whole experience of being 'free'. I do realise that I have the privilege of living with the river at the bottom of my garden, thus allowing me to take a much more relaxed approach to my time by the water than I might otherwise do if I had to travel a distance. That's not to say that I am happy to blank, I can at least admit that I do enjoy the outing more once that first fish is in the net, you know what I mean? Perhaps I am more competitive than I think?
However, when I reflect on my fishing life I realise that many of my most replayed memories are not self centred and indeed that many of them would not exist at all had I not benefitted from the kindness, enthusiasm and generosity of others.
I remember being shown the rudiments of casting at the age of eleven or twelve by the local newsagent come tackle seller who, almost to order, hooked a trout and then handed me the rod to play and land the fish. He later got me into the local club. His kindness and generosity have had more of an impact on my life than he could ever have known. Although I regard myself as solitary I have always belonged to clubs, even becoming the secretary of one, and as a result I have met and fished with like-minded people who have become real friends. There have been plenty of adventures in pursuit of all sorts of fish.
Great memories such as a camping and fishing trip to The Isle of Man fishing off the rocks for huge pollack. We camped by the side of a disused flooded quarry where, in the evening we would lie on our stomachs looking down into the water to watch enormous eels rise up from the bottom and take insects off the surface. How we dreamt of pioneering dry fly fishing for eels. Unfortunately they were, from a casting point of view, inaccessible.
There have been trips to Ireland in pursuit of bass, mullet and pollack, sublime days spent wandering the surf beaches of Kerry with just a fly rod and big dreams. Big dreams inspired around the camp fire the previous night, possibly fuelled by alcohol, definitely fuelled by the enthusiasm of good friends who, with their knowledge and a genuine desire of wanting you to succeed, shared their experiences and shared their secrets. I learnt more about saltwater fly fishing from them in a week than I could have done in a lifetime of fishing alone.
There have also been trips to more remote areas, the hidden Llyns of North Wales, magical tarns up in The Lake District, weekends up to the mighty and sometimes brutal Cow Green, with more trips yet to come.
Then there is the more organised social side of fishing. Take for example the The Game Fair, perhaps no longer as fishing orientated as it once was, but at one time it was an important gathering place for anglers of all types, perhaps nowadays usurped by the fantastic British Fly Fair International. In addition there are local branches of the Fly Dressers Guild - you really should do yourself a favour and go along. Not only will your fly tying improve you will glean lots of information on local fishing etc. And make friends!
Now that I come to think of it, I fish with friends a lot more often than I realise. Only last week I had a day as a guest on one of the very best trout rivers in the country, and as long as I didn't show myself up, which I hope I didn't, more visits will be planned.
I do still love to fish alone but I realise that if it wasn't for the kindness of many of the people that I have met through my pursuit of fish I wouldn't be half the fisherman that I am today. But even when I do fish alone I am often in the company of some of my oldest and most important companions; one in particular is my old Hardy Jet glass fibre fly rod. It has accompanied me on some of my most memorable adventures. It was a present from my parents in 1969 and I think that they recognised even then how important fishing was to become to me. Luckily they had the foresight and generosity to buy me the best that they could afford. I have other good companions; a gorgeous Edward Barder split cane seven and a half footer and a unique Marcus Warwick opal grey, carbon eight foot four weight, made for Ari Hart. As fantastic as these are, and as privileged as I know I am to have them, if these were my only companions at the waterside I know that my fishing would be much the poorer.
Read more from Steven HERE