True Tales from an Expert Fisherman

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John Bailey. True Tales from an Expert Fisherman

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In Appreciation

Appreciation? Acknowledgements? I’m not sure about these words, I guess accomplices is a far better term. In fact, this book isn’t really mine at all but rather the story of countless men and women who’ve had such an impact on my life for nearly half a century. And the world’s best dog of course . . . but more of him shortly.

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As Anthony made it wholly plain, to let the fish go down the rapids would be a catastrophe.

First, Anthony waited until every single coracle had moved over the lip of the Kengal Rapids and headed off back to camp, a mile downstream. He then moved us into position, some twenty-five yards above the monster’s lair. We had already respooled with new line, a new hook, and caught the perfect bait, a small brown fish, a chilwa, around five inches long. Anthony had also screwed the clutch on my multiplier as tight as it could possibly go with a pair of pliers. Both of us, pulling together, found it impossible to take even an inch of line off the reel, so jammed it was. This, Anthony explained, was absolutely necessary. If the fish took and if the strike were successful, to yield even an inch of line to the mahseer could court disaster. As Anthony made it wholly plain, to let the fish go down the rapids would be a catastrophe. We would not be able to land it unless we followed it and that potentially could be terminal. I got the message.

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