It’s 7:30 in the evening, I’m holed up in a 1 man tent half way up a mountain and I’m defecating into an Asda tie handle freezer bag to the incessant sound of rain drumming against the fly sheet. Only,…

It’s 7:30 in the evening, I’m holed up in a 1 man tent half way up a mountain and I’m defecating into an Asda tie handle freezer bag to the incessant sound of rain drumming against the fly sheet. Only,…
“Daddy only stares into the distanceThere’s only so much more that he can takeMany miles away something crawls from the slimeAt the bottom of a dark Scottish lake“ Another year another solo escape from the soul destroying, chest-tightening, time-sucking grind…
As regular readers of this blog will know, the highlights of my angling calendar were always the annual week’s fishing in either Assynt or Wester Ross in June with mates, followed by a long weekend later in the year in…
I had originally scheduled this weekend for a mission to Wester Ross which in retrospect was a ludicrously optimistic notion with a 4 month old baby at home and important deadlines at work to keep on top of. So, I…
The 2018 annual fishing holiday had a difficult and complex inception spanning several pages of WhatsApp discussion, much Outlook perusing and a bit of green card acquisition. I’ve catalogued the problems before so I won’t cover old ground too…