Farquhar Blog: 19 – 26 February 2011
There are a plenty of people out there who’d like nothing more than to be a professional guide. The thought of living in tropical destinations year round and fly fishing for a living is enough for any family man to reconsider his homely situation. In truth it can be a gruelling job. Our guides spend many months away from their loved ones. They work seven days a week, from early in the morning to late at night in harsh environments. You average guide also doesn’t get to fish much.
This week was different however. Everyone from HQ flew to Farquhar (except for poor ol’ Hammond who had to hold the fort). The objective this week was for all the guides to catch as many fish as possible. Christmas, ladies and gentleman, has come early this year. The ASFN film crew would be there to record the carnage.
So with Malcolm Dodds and Grant Dunbar, old friends of FlyCastaway- as well as our chairman Dirk Ackerman- keeping us in check we headed off to the flats, fly rod in hand. Soon we’d found parts of the atholl that few had explored, and judging by the quality of the fishing, few had fished. We had spring tides so even though our window of fishing the flats was shorter than usual, it was very intense. Triggers were everywhere. GT’s cruised the edge over pure white sand. Truly enormous milkies fed erratically carefully watching us with their oversized eyes. Guides tried hard to open their “Christmas Presents” slowly taking care not to tear the wrapping. However the shackles had come off and guides were pinning fish furiously as if their sanity depended on it.
Malcolm and Grant didn’t let us down. Between them they caught a fair amount of GT’s, Bones, Triggers and had great success offshore. Grant caught a beautiful Wahoo and “upgraded” from a Bonito to a massive Dogtooth Tuna. Unfortunately the Doggie bit him off after a long and herculean battle. Malcolm provided moral support and hysterics.
At the end of the week while all us guides scrubbed our boats for their weekly spring clean we had much to reflect on, the previous day’s killer bonefish session for one. Standing on a blindingly white sand flat waiting for big single bones to creep up on you, while all around the Athol dramatic clouds stacked atop one another like a Michael Angelo painting; a ring of black squalls almost within reach and single rays of light highlighting spooky bonefish. On your hands and knees scrubbing a boat, you can’t help the grin that comes with the feeling that you really love your job.