Now this is something. Imagine you’re there fishing and you caught a nice little brown on the dry fly, and in the middle of the fight come a very big bull trout, and the bastard tries to eat your catch! How’s that for a surprise? But where things go really crazy is when you’ve got a buddy ready with a streamer. You have a shot for a double. And imagine the big boy takes the streamer…
Now here’s your problem: back at the pub, no one will buy your story. That’s why it’s awesome to have your girl filming. That’s why video was invented in the first place. Thanks to the Jensens for this unbelievable stunt.
You love to take selfies, you love fly fishing and you wished someone would film you from above, but you are alone… Here’s what you are going to ask for Xmas or your birthday if it comes before… The Lily Drone! Maybe one of the best invention of the year! You need a proof of it? Check the film below. In other words, put the master device in your pocket, throw the slave drone in the air and fish!! You can also use it for other purposes but we don’t want to know.
This is only the beginning of something that’s bound to leave a mark for ever in my fly fishing life. This week-end, I was in Normandie with my friend Flavien Malemprée, and the plan was to go fishing for porbeagle sharks. And we went. Flysharking, as I like to call that rather odd endeavour, is very glamour when you talk about it to your (girl) friends in a café downtown, and makes you in advance a kind of adventurous maverick going for modern times adventures — with a fly rod. Details, as it often is the case, are a little less glamour. Preparing the chum is well on the wrong side of the ugly, then the action consists basically in doing nothing while all those smelly fish particles and oils advertise your shark open-bar operation. You have to believe.
But then, out of the blue (literally) comes the mighty predator. All the seven-plus feet of it, slowly gliding around the boat. And it’s at least as much there to get you than you’re there to get it. I’ve never experienced something like that. The awe. The respect for this fish. Flavien didn’t waste a fraction of a second to think, he jumped on his rod and tried to get the shark to take his streamer. The shark came to have a look (as Flavien neared a cardivascular incident) then went back to the depths. We never saw it again this day.
That’s it for our first try. But we’ll be back, and we know it as a fact: sooner or later we’ll hook one. And all hell will break loose.
When you’ve got it in your blood, when it takes everything you have, when nothing else matters, you’ve got to go fishing, nothing will stop you. Self portrait of Cal Clarke. How lucky is he?
Are you free this August? Do you have a 12wt and know how to use it? Do you think that science an extra effort, and that there’s no way to achieve efficient protection of a species without a precise understanding of its behaviour? If you check for all these criteria and you’re loaded with cash, you’re just five grants away from the experience of a lifetime with top tarpon anglers in Belize (Adam Marton and Andy Mill, mind you), to catch and tag big specimens with satellite tracking devices. The expedition is organized by the Fieldworkers Club, and it’s gonna be a huge blast.
There’s a few seats left. Wait for me, I’m gonna rob a bank and I’m in!
Where we found Lazaro El Capitán, on board La Carmen, talking about his Pépé poker epic fail, dropping them off on streets…
–It had to be tough, to be docked in remote Hungary…
–Sure was. Pépé hung around the Hungarian docks for a while, or at least he hung around the pubs… Then one morning, he stormed in our small maid’s room, drunk as hell, And he said “ ‘am offf ! ffound myselff a coaler to board on !” Then he slammed the door, and never came back. We only saw him again years later, near Arles.
–He left you stranded, so to say.
–Ha! Yep. So, then, my father and my mother survived for a while by selling products from the Aveyron region on Slavic markets, here and there, where
Sometimes you’ve been waiting for this since so long that when the time comes, you just throw away your last bit of good sense and just jump in like a fool. And that works for fishing too, as Håvard Stubø demonstrates skilfully. If you are lucky, you’ll end up wet, and happy.