Bill Beck

A salute by a maurading highlander

Jim Allen

On New Year’s day word came through that well known trout guide in Tasmania, Bill Beck had died. He was in his early 80s, a good innings!! No one could claim he didn’t enjoy his life around fly fishing. He lived life to the fullest and one night, some years ago declared it’s better to live 75 good years than 85 miserable ones, as he lit another cigarette and lifted his glass of wine. We knew he wasn’t traveling well when earlier last year he was diagnosed with a heart problem which would be extremely dangerous to operate on. He was told he might last a few more years or be dead the next day. I think he decided to take the risk.

Bill and Alan Felmingham were partners and were two of the original trout guides in Tasmania. The late Noel Jetson had been the very first. Bill and Alan came next and in the early days, specialized in the magic fishing on the newly flooded Lake Pedder.

Lake Pedder, when first flooded caused an explosion of mud-eyes (dragon fly nymphs) and galaxias (native minnows) as the waters rose and covered new ground. Huge Brown trout, some in excess of 20 pounds were caught in the height of the trout fishing boom that followed. Ten pounders were spoken of as quite common!!!

Sometime later Bill purchased the remnant business from Felmingham and started his own guiding operation from his shack at Little Pine Lagoon and a caravan down at Pedder. His shack was affectionately called Hiccup Hall. For this writer trout fishing with a fly rod is as much about the characters, as it is about catching trout. Bill was without doubt one of the best-known charismatic characters in the highlands of Tasmania.

He was well known for his commercial fly tying through winter for many of the fly fishing stores around Tasmania as well. His “Cat fly”, made from the fur of feral cats, was possibly one of his most successful flies. Fished as a wet on grey windy days it excelled both black and olive coloured. Today’s modern fly fishers colloquially describe wet fly fishing as “pulling flies”. I don’t think Bill ever used that expression but I’m certain his Cat fly will live on and be pulled for years to come as will many of his other flies.

Bill’s boat, a half century old De Havilland Offshore called the Highland Spinner was regularly seen all over the highlands and in later years more often at Little Pine. Fishing in it would be Bill and his “victims”. He, sitting low in the middle. His clients at each end.

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Some described him as a trout fishing companion and not a guide. Bill didn’t care, he fished with his customers calling out the rising fish and offering each the first cast. A poor presentation then found Bill’s fly in the perfect position a few moments later. A few ‘victims’ never came back. Most did because he was fun to both be with and fish with. In later years his dog, a terrier called Punter never stopped barking at anglers, other boats and fish. Life on the highlands with Bill was playing cards, drinking good wine, eating the finest Tasmanian beef from barbecues and of course fly fishing with a very knowledgeable angler.

Back at his shack he was the true entertainer. Regaling fishing yarns of previous anglers from past years at Lake Pedder, Lake Sorell, the mayfly fishing at the Lagoon of Islands, the Arthurs Lakes and many others. It didn’t matter if you were the Prime Minister, Governor General, business tycoon or just the bloke somewhere else with an ordinary job. In the company of Bill Beck all were treated the same. Around the card table if you became a frequent attendee, you received an appalling and irreverent nickname. This writer was named “Marauding”. He “Limping”, then there was Wheezing, Smelly, Poppy Growing, Entomologist, Dunny Brush and many many more.

Card playing nights often ended at the first light of dawn and the few miles drive back to Miena was fraught with blurred vision but no one was ever caught by the local constabulary, nor did they fall off the road or end up in the Ouse river!! Amazing when reflecting back!!! In later years after Hiccup Hall was burnt to the ground and a new shack built on higher ground, perhaps his guests might’ve been a tad older and a little more responsible.

As an aside Bill liked to sit low in the boat. I am sure he thought the trout came much closer than those that sit high on seat poles which are popular today on many other more modern boats. He also started out the day and fished with his Krystal Flash nymph under a good floating dry which he called a Battleship, which was really a well hackled Red Tag. If and when the nymphs started to move and thereby a few trout looking for them. Bill often pre-empted the dun hatch by switching to two dry fly dun patterns. He claimed the best of the dun hatch was at the very start of proceedings and lastly at what he called the mopping up period after the main hatch subsided. He claimed the fish were too bloody intent on only the naturals in the middle of the hatch. He often called the peak of the hatch “the bloody impossibles”!

The “Spinner” was often out on the lagoon quite late as he claimed some very good fishing was to be had after most of the boats had departed in this mopping up period and also commented quite often the largest fish of the day would be caught late. If Little Pine calmed off at dusk on a warm evening Bill would be back out in the afterglow picking up a few midge feeders too. The trout tracked the midges and there was some very exciting fishing, usually along the road shore. Those that fished with him often let him make the rules depending on weather and wind conditions. His decision making was well respected by mainland anglers who came back year after year, some even flying from California to be with him.

I think I’ve written before of another long-departed angler giving me a lecture as a young teenager. He commented that “one only lives about a thousand months son. Don’t waste the trip. Life’s a bit like a stone cast upon a pond, at the end the waves will eventually subside. Be a bloody big rock.” Well Bill Beck, you certainly were a larger rock than those skittleballs that flew out of volcanoes many millions of years ago at the north end of the lagoon. The waves from your life will live on in the annals of the history of fly fishing in the highlands of Tasmania for many years to come. We, who knew you well, are warm in the knowledge of having had a great mate and enjoyed many hours in your company. We who remain will seize the fly fishing days left for us, in your memory. Vale Bill Beck.

Postscript: Bill left us worried about the lack of mayfly in the highlands of Tasmania in recent years. His family have started a fund to discover the cause. The website is www.tinyurl. com/billbeckmemorial for further information.

Jim Allen

Postscript by Mike Stevens.

In 2015 Mike Stevens and Peter Hayes spent a day fishing Four Springs Lagoon with Bill Beck. It was his first - and probably his only time fishing there. I do not remember if we caught a fish, but probably we didn’t as there are no photos of fish on that day. However I clearly remember sitting with Bill and Peter on the shore reminiscing - especially about Little Pine Lagoon and his love of that fishery. The interview and article from that day can be found here: https:// issuu.com/stevenspublishing/docs/tfbn118-2015-oct