I spent a very drowsy afternoon down on the Cornwall banks of the River Tamar today. As we arrived a humungous salmon easily the size of a killer whale leapt out of the water to greet us. I'm well trained in this fish exaggeration thing.
I set up my rug and my book ready to witness the age-old, timeless contest between man and fish, the bookhound set up the fly rod.
As time went by it was clear salmo salar was having none of it, no amount of trickery was going to fool him today and gradually the excitement abated. The hypnotic music of the river worked its charms.
As the bookhound was flinging flies I was apparently catching them.