Why Do We Love Fishing? - Nuffinbutfishing

I don't swear that often on this blog for obvious reasons, but this is a f##king a great film. Please put some effort into sharing this video so we get some more like it.

The Hidden Stream

I love this film as it reminds me of the type water I started lure fishing on, a small forgotten stream a short walk from where I used to live.   Check out the you tube channel The In Depth Angler  for other great videos

Urban Lures

Urban Fishing Lures - Making of from Giorgio Nasti on Vimeo.

From a basement in Italy, Urban Lures has started a little empire based on quality handmade balsa fishing lures. This is a really beautiful glimpse into his workshop by Giorgio Nasti a film maker based in Rome, lets hope he keeps pointing is camera at fishy subjects.

Currently Urban lures is selling through his facbook page (https://www.facebook.com/urbanfishinglures/) ,but a website is in the making. Meanwhile if the video doesn't wet you appetite enough check out the lure porn below.

Monday morning at the office for one lucky barstool

This is trailer for an upcoming film about an Irish river guide and already it made me a little damp in good way so I am expecting great things. Check out the website Seetheriverman.com

The River Man - Trailer from RICHARD GORODECKY on Vimeo.

Monday Morning At The Office for some lucky Barstools

Patagonia, if only it was just next to Wales and above Devon. No, second thoughts they would of ploughed it up by now to make space for an Ikea and a shit office development.

Fly Fishing Vibes with Hooké in Patagonia from HOOKÉ on Vimeo.

Make it

Nike "The Making of Making" from Dana Shaw on Vimeo.

Dutch Beauty A short film by Rick Kloekke

It is not fishing but its wet with the kind of water that bends fishermen's souls a little

Pike Pride

Ireland if it was not there a group of fishermen would have to invent it.

Devon Minnows,Trout and bloody rain

Image Above: Homemade cane (bamboo) Devon Minnows

Images Below: Trout and Priest

Wind Turbines at Royd Moor, above Scout Dyke Reservoir, Yorkshire

The reservoir had filled since my last visit a little under a year ago when a summer drought had lowered it until it had taken on the feel of a dry dock in the process of being drained. The rough stone banks had gone and the water now reached around the bases of the trees meeting the grass in small bays. A healthy growth of weed and pads hung about the more sheltered stretches of bank and out of view of the imposing dam wall the waterscape felt almost like a natural lake.

The last weather forecast I had heard had been a little over-enthusiastic and what had started as driving rain in Manchester had subsided to a drizzle over the heights of the Pennines. The drizzle despite being unable to dimple the water’s surface had quickly soaked through my jacket marking my clothes beneath with damp patches around the seams.I was not alone everthing was touched with a sheen of water from the barded wire to the blades of grass, while the low cloud muffled the wind turbines until they sailed like ghost ships across the moor above. I had visited an agricultural supply shop on route and bought a pair of green dairy over-trousers something I hadn’t worn for a few years. The assistant kept pulling out small and medium sized pairs from the pile before getting closer with a large. I advised him to add enough X’s before the L to make it look like a large roman numeral. The trousers turned out to be a wise investment as my legs were the only part of me that stayed just damp instead of saturated.

I had come with three basic requirements for the day to fish, film and test a few things; if I could combine all three and catch a fish on video while testing a new lure it would be gold. Sadly the rain never stopped long enough for me to get any footage apart from some cutaway shots of tying on bits and bobs under a tree. Fish wise the reservoir is stocked with rainbows and a few brown which have to go back, there is also a good head of perch.

I began casting some cane Devon minnows and after a couple of hours and having changed enough times to have worked through the selection I had brought I hooked on a micro wobbler I had made last year hoping it may do me some good on this bit of water. Three or four casts later and I was into a rainbow. I had forgotten about the speed these things can kick up but it quickly came back to me as the fish shot round the bay tail walking as it went. When I finally banked it like an amateur I kicked my bag into the water behind me, normally this would mean just a bit of wet tackle but it was holding my camera and a couple of lenses. I dropped the fish and grabbed the bag before it sank, luckily I had, had the foresight to wrap my camera in a plastic bag to protect it from the rain. The camera was dry but the lenses had taken water and I dried off and drain them as best I could. Meanwhile, the fish being free on a grassy bank sloping down to the water unhooked itself and made its own way back foiling my plans for a fishy dinner. A passing dog walker unaware of the chain of events that had led to me standing in the rain swearing at myself was little taken a back and almost broke into jog to escape the scene.

When I had gathered myself a little a wave of relief washed over me as I remembered I had caught a fish with a previously untried lure. I caught another trout at the next bay guaranteeing dinner and then predictably threw the lure into a tree overhanging some very deep water. At this point I decided to return to car to dry out my clothes, the lenses and reassess the general direction of my life.

Slightly less damp I returned to the water and managed to get something to tug on one of my Devon minnows but it failed to make to the bank. Looking for a second fish I tied on a flying ‘C’ minnow and it quickly proved itself by filling out my bag limit. With a few hours to left to fish and feeling eager to avoid trout and treble hooks I thought I would try a bit of drop-shotting for perch using some of my micro soft plastic worms and new hooks I have been doctoring. I casted around the weeds and overhanging branches but failed to find a single perch, the trout however were throwing themselves at me and in a couple of hours I lost track of how many I had caught the single hook making it easy to unhook them in the water.

It never stopped raining but by late afternoon the drizzle had slowed until it almost hung in the air like wet dust as the distant wind turbines gained some definition to their outlines.

I started out making a film about one thing and ended up with a film about something else, sorry about the junk. The music was composed and performed on a Gameboy by a friend and film maker Ewan Brown., what a guy. Cheers Ewan