The places fishing takes us. Like traffic lights…

Proof, I think, of the invisible strands that bind us together in the fishing fraternity, sometimes across thousands of miles…

Within 48 hours of each other, Tom Chandler and The Urban Fly Fisher post to their respective blogs. Tom talks about The Dance of the Fly Fishing Geeks:

“…we’re all fly fishing geeks, and the damnedest things trigger high-octane phone calls or visits from the postman, and at times, you wonder what this might look like to normal people.

“And while we’re all fly fishermen, each of my friends seems to have specialized in their own obscure corner of an already obscure sport. I write, Raine builds, Roberts ties, Singlebarbed frightens the rest of us, Ian & Charity are making a living, Wayne’s trying to stay awake…”

And the Urban Fly Fisher is rummaging for his camera at traffic lights, so that he can blog about the white van that’s damn near rear-ended him. Just because it happens to belong to The Loch Lomond Angling Improvement Association…

The damning evidence is up there now. Two vehicles at lights, probably miles from the nearest fishing water and what makes me smile the most is that I can just picture the feverish glee with which TUFF primed his camera, while a demonic voice within screamed “blog…blog…blog…”

If this obscure sport takes us to a more obscure corner than a Scottish road junction this month, I’ll be amazed. And unlike Tom Chandler, I’m trying frantically not to wonder what this might look like to normal people. Because I dread finding out.

…………………………………………………………………………………………….

While I’m rounding-up the blogging of others, it occurs to me that I have to make mention of this. I only hope the next editor charged with producing a fishing anthology is big enough to look beyond dead-tree media for inspiration because Singlebarbed‘s look at the changing social mores of fishing should be a stone-cold cert for inclusion. Not just because I’m the owner of a faded plaid wool shirt, either.

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