A wild and wooly Brendan Becker (right), his client L Mark Weeks and a world record bumphead parrotfish from Providence.
I was starting to drift away from my old self and would go through a whirlwind journey eventually landing my ass in the Seychelles working with Flycastaway on Farquhar. “If you could see me now Bringe… I made it all the way to the Seychelles.” It’s been an amazing journey from there: the fishing I dreamed of I’ve done; the places I’ve seen and the extraordinary people I’ve met have all been a blur and that’s where I lost my connection to those times in Machadodorp and with my grandfather. Then it happened. I was standing on the bank of a lovely stillwater just down the drag from those old syndicate waters of my grandfather’s. I found myself alone, feverishly
working the water. When I lifted my head to pan over the landscape, it all came flooding back. All of those memories, the smells, the sounds and the unadulterated happiness. I felt him there. I wished he was there in the flesh, but it wasn’t tinged by sadness because the reality is that we all have to die. I just wish he could see me proving everyone who doubted the fishing wrong. Just one more time on the water. It was a happy memory of all of those times I had forgotten about. Those moments before the tech revolution and the Instagramisation of fishing. Here I was, a fully-fledged fly fishing guide, staring back at a dirty, conflicted boy, wondering who is happier. “If that was the first turn of this wheel, Bringe I’ll feel you the next time it comes back around.”
