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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.

In the early days, I can’t help believing my parents colluded more than they should have done with my fishing career. And I’ll always blame my grandmother for inspiring me with mighty tales of derring-do performed by my late grandfather. On the literary side, Bernard Venables and B.B. have both got a lot to answer for. Their evocative prose carried me away to magical fishing lands when, in reality, I’d got far more important things to do. Or so it seemed to everyone who ever taught me.

In a fundamental, guts-of-my-life way, I’d like to thank Reelscreamer, who has nourished every piscatorial ambition of mine even if he hasn’t actually cast a fly on the water himself now for nearly twenty years. I’d like to thank Maddie, a spaniel of enormous angling ability, for all my success in Scotland. Truly. And for bringing Christopher along who’s a good cook and even better company. Johnny Jensen certainly plays a central role: as you’ll see, he’s been responsible for many of the messes I’ve got myself in. Thank you Peter Smith. I guess you’ll never know how sane you’ve kept me over the past fifteen years.

In Scotland, I’d like to thank the Heaths, the Hetts, all the Johns, and the Barbers for frequent shelter given from the storm. Mention must be made of a certain Dutchman who so frequently allowed me use of his most magical estate. Thank you Dennis and thank you Norrie. I’m praying for you.

In Greenland, I’d like to thank Sexy Morten, less sexy Niels, the Swedish pilots who appeared with beer one night, the musk ox that spared me, and Johnny for his impersonation of Basil Fawlty. Thank you Mick and Simon for keeping me laughing for three weeks and Stuart for deciding to pack at three o’clock one morning. Thank you James for slipping off the glacial ice and not knocking your head clean off.

Let’s take Russia, Siberia, Kazakhstan, and all those far-flung, ruinous states together. Thank you Sasha for saving my life and Mr. Mochanov—wherever you are now—for not thinking it worth taking. Thank you Michael, Uncle, and my dear German friend Bernd . . . but I still think Michelle Pfeiffer is the most beautiful woman in the world, whatever you say. Thank you Niels Ortoft for showing that a three hundred-pound fish can be caught on a salmon fly, and thank you Pasha for the fact that I’m not lingering now in an Iranian jail. Thank you to Michael for organizing a few eastern calamities and to Olav and Christian who made them quite fun. Thank you Georg for cooking lenok trout almost before they’d been landed and Gennardi for showing me your bottom-of-the-garden dunny. Thanks to Brian Pilcher and Keith Musto for providing me with clothing that has saved me from frostbite many times.

In Mongolia, I must thank Petr (two of them in fact), the Mighty Radim, and our own Friar Tuck, Jan, even though one of his farts occasioned an earthquake. I’d like to embrace all the fellow Mongolian travellers—Rob, Phil, Leo, Simon, Ade, Phil, Chris, Ian . . . you’re just too numerous to mention but I love you all. Thank you Gamba for being invariably manic and my Mongolian brother Batsokh for just about everything. Thank you Ennisch for dreams and the Red Baron for flying me and then crashing me in stomach-churning safety. Frank, we are all thinking of you. Always. And Dave, thanks for lending me that rod for the past five years. Or is it six?!

In India and outlying lands, I’d like to thank Keith for introducing me to cards and Simon to whisky. I’d like to thank John Edwards for always setting such a fine, well-dressed example and, way back, Linda, Dinesh, Peter, Paul, John, George . . . we only needed Ringo! Joe will have to do instead. A hundred and seven “thank yous” to the Boys of Nepal and down in the south, Bola and Suban—that was the best month of my life. Thank you Alan for that smile of yours: bigger than the Indian sun.

I’d like to thank the Norfolk wild bunch—Billy T, the beloved man of three halves, Joe, Ching, Bernie Bishop, who rescued me from a life of sprout picking with lascivious women, and Geoff Crowe for showing me how life should be lived.

On Acklins I’d like to thank Roger, my fellow carnival queen and gently calming influence. Thank you Tony, Philip, and Magnus especially, for maintaining rigorous standards. Amos, Elvis, and Fidel, please don’t forget us.

On the Baltic, I’d like to thank Michael for being so gentle and Johnny for catching the biggest fish ever . . . as usual. Up in North Uist I’d like to thank Maddie for sniffing out the big ones and looking after Christopher. Thank you Christopher for letting me play Perfect Day. Elsewhere around the New World, I’d like to thank Big Bob and brother Wayne, everybody I met in New Zealand because you just can’t find more generous people anywhere. The same goes for America but let me especially thank John Hemmingway for taking an interest. For the rest, in no particular order, let me thank Paul for providing both inspirations and warnings, all at Launce Nicholson’s tackle shop, and Simon whose luck with women and cards is extraordinary. Not that he’s ever exploited either, Sally, I promise.

Lest this should seem heavily biased toward the male, let me say that women figure every bit as large. Thank you Sue for constant, “alluring” advice. Hats off to Shirley for proving what wimps men are. God save Carol for working with me at all hours and trying to stop me worrying and to several hundred cooks doing a brilliant best in impossible kitchens with food you wouldn’t even recognize as edible. Thank you to Charlotte for lending me Johnny—I told you I’d bring him back. And thank you, dearest Joy. As you will read, this book is so much about you.

Finally, I would like to thank Mohammed and all the staff at La Roseraie, Morocco for the sanctuary provided to complete what the above gang have given me to say. And apologies to the unmentioned many who have contributed to the wreck of a man I am today.