I've decided to try and resurrect this blog by managing more than an annual post. I have mixed feelings about the whole blogging thing as it seems to me to be, at worst a narcissistic thing which people engage in in order to present a distorted image of themselves to the world in which they are better, more successful, wise etc.... than in real life. But then hey what's wrong with that? Also at best I have read some great stuff and viewed some equally great images that have entertained and inspired me. So here we go again, I will fail of course, and fall back into posting massively infrequently, but here goes.

Scotland again.

Peter and I headed for Lairg again on our annual long distance angling trip. He has already described this on the Burrator Fly Fishers blog so I will not go into detail about the unusual ending of that week, other than to say he became seriously ill and scared the shit out of me (though it has to be said it must have been much more frightening for him). Peters account is here http://burratorflyfishers.blogspot.co.uk/.
For my part, whilst the fishing was cut short, and we never got to fish Craggie, which was a real disappointment, we still managed some good fishing. Amongst the highlights were the days I fished Loch Shin from the bank. This was something of a revelation. I caught a lot of fish on dry flies, more than I have ever managed in single trip, and I feel that for a while I really got in the zone with this type of fishing and learned a lot.

I also fished some of the rivers. The Shin was engrossing to fish. One afternoon I tied some very basic sedge imitations, walked out the Caravan door, which is on the banks of the Shin, and within minutes caught a fish on a fly I had just tied. They were dark lean fish which often took the flies with a wild abandon that made up for my inept presentation and strike timing abilities. I also fished some tiny burns with bright little trout that I caught on tiny klinkhammers. I loved this fishing, lost in the landscape on the banks of a little river which, in my imagination, can hardly ever have been fished.

I can't wait to go back.