DCAC



	3 Men on a Fishing Trip or A Week is a Long Time in Angling
	A personal recollection by Gerald A. Unwin

	1973 was the last time I had fished on the South Esk along with my father, John Hunstone Unwin & Keith & John Cowley-Booker. A long-haired art student at the time, I had enjoyed the experience, but despite photographic evidence of a haul of a dozen or so sizeable fish I hadn't been able to recall catching anything myself.
		So it was with expectation & delight I arrived in Balglassie with my angling companions Ron Trevis & Daryl Bluff in August 2008, hoping to recall the memories of youth and to do a little better on this trip.....
	Left to right - Daryl Bluff, Ron Trevis and Gerald Unwin
	A recce. down to the river on the Sunday we drove up; rose expectations even higher as the river was a little above normal level but clear with evidence of one or two fish moving. Monday didn't quite get off to the start we had hoped for - I burned the porridge & forgot the key to the portacabin where we had stashed our tackle the previous evening. This was only topped by Ron forgetting to take his worms with him to the riverbank. Not deterred we fished all day - Daryl & myself only managing brownies and parr but Ron bagging a lovely brace of sea-trout from higher up the beat, one of which made the tastiest of suppers. By this time, my comrades, happily sunk in the chair watching the Olympics, had been only too readily let me assume the role of chief cook & at least I didn't burn the spaghetti bolognaise or the cauliflower cheese. Ron proved quite domesticated, washing the dishes almost before we'd had time to use them. That evening we shopped for provisions in Brechin - taking full advantage of the offers the supermarket had on beers and pretty well anything else that was reduced. Rain on Tuesday raised and coloured the river, so after a mornings fishing we headed for the tackle shops in Forfar and conversed with the proprietors about river flow and the like whilst selecting the controllers, drilled bullets and hooks we needed from their well stocked shelves. Although the fish were few and far between we had been delighted to see Roe deer, heron, buzzards, kingfishers and an otter. After replenishing provisions on Wednesday (Ron had been noted to mention the word 'biscuits' on more than one occasion) we continued our endevours in high water conditions and more rain. Tangles and snags had been rife though Ron had a further sea-trout, on fly, at Bob's corner but unfortunately lost a salmon as it took off and threw the hook when it saw the net - or was it when it saw Ron and Daryl.....?
	By Thursday morning I had been informed that my associates had had enough porridge to last them all year, so after scrambled eggs we made for the river bank to find the water both high & coloured again - actually matching the oxtail soup we were to have for lunch. My cooking had already been accused of ensuring Ron wouldn't be recognised by his wife on his return home.* With nothing doing in the morning a snooze was suggested by one of our party, but keen to get out before the ominous rain clouds reached the beat I raced down to the river and after half an hour or so hooked and gleefully netted my first sea-trout. Moments later I found myself in the middle of the most torrential downpour I have ever experienced, wondering whether it was wise to stand chest deep in the middle of the river waving around what I suspected was a carbon-fibre lightning conductor. After tea Ron & myself returned for a bit of night-time sea trout fishing but after the torch packed in and the third tangle, blamed the high if not yo-yoing** water conditions we returned to the cottage sopping wet.
	Gerald with his first Salmon
	Friday was more promising with the river having dropped and cleared marginally and second cast at Otter pool I hooked something sizable. With words passing my lips like 'please don't come off' I very quickly learnt how to increase the tension on my new reel and after about a ten minute battle netted and despatched my first fresh-run salmon. It was like Christmas and birthday rolled into one! I sat down on the bank and just looked at it till I'd stopped shaking. Sheer delight at succeeding in my first week at what I had been informed might take a string of years to succeed in, was enhanced even more when Ron - not known for being over complimentary - saw the fish as he strolled back downstream and actually said 'Well done!' Praise indeed................. A sea trout later in the day proved a satisfying end to what had been a week where, eventually, all my expectations of the previous months had not only been met, but exceeded..... My happy memories of three and a half decades ago were now more than matched by the last week spent in this idyllic spot we have the privilege of being able to fish........with something approaching a modicum of success. There was actually no need to be concerned - the size of the 'Fisherman's Platter', ordered at the local restaurant on the Friday night, followed by Ron downing a dish overflowing with apple crumble and custard soon got him back to his normal size...... *Not to be confused with yingling - which is apparently an Olympic water-sport. August 2008

	A proud moment !
	Article by Gerald Unwin

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