Now Winter is here in all it’s icy glory, I am starting to reminisce over some of the best days of recent season. One thing that comes back to mind time after time isn’t tales of big fish or huge numbers but simply the smell of fishing.
On a spring day, the smell of the riverbank is truly memorable, the spring sun heating the vegetation and soil into a musty sweet aroma. Walking down the the river you may brush past wild garlic and the pungent whiff hits you like no other. Then there is the smell of the river itself, the water somehow smells sweeter, maybe it’s the growing weed rising from the depths. These are the things I cherish about fly fishing and I am lucky enough to call the riverbank my office for much of the year!
