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We seem to be enjoying something of a renaissance with local flyfishing books lately, and Neil Grose’s latest is a welcome addition.
There’s plenty to digest and enjoy with this book, and having just finished it, in my mind there are really five threads or ‘parts’ to take in. The first is Neil’s backstory, growing up in the north-east Tasmanian town of Lilydale (population c. 500) where, “Our family was the only family … not related to anyone else.” The locals “…married someone they went to school with, got jobs in the local shop, one of the sawmills, or on a farm.” You’ll have to read the book to find out why Neil instead ended up being, among many things, a trout guide and a writer.
Part two (and these parts aren’t sequential by the way, with plenty of overlap) is what I think of as the fishing insights: the genuinely valuable information about Tasmanian streams and lakes (especially Arthurs Lake), flies and trout behaviour, gleaned over many decades of fishing and guiding. I’d call this the hardcore fishing stuff, although it’s presented in a way that’s anything but dry and list-like. For example, on a long phone call with Neil’s mate and renowned fly tier Muz Wilson (who pops up often) the two of them conclude that fly colour “ … was perhaps more important to the angler than the angled for.”
Part three are Neil’s own fishing stories either alone or with mates, from tiny local creeks as a boy, to the Central Plateau wilderness, and lots of waters in between. I’m a sucker for a good fishing tale, and there are plenty here.
Part four are the guiding stories, and obviously the inspiration for the title – although, as you can already gather, there’s a lot more to this book than these. Still, the guide recollections are certainly a highlight. As a guide myself, I may be biased here, but even if you’re not, I’ll be surprised if you aren’t equally amazed and entertained by these ‘warts and all’ tales. As just one small sample, on a very tough day, client A has just cast to a precious fish close to the boat, when his mate, client B, decides to “…walk back down the boat, spooking the trout within an inch of it taking the fly. Silence erupted. A very difficult silence. Coffee anyone?”
Part five is the people, often woven into the other four parts of course, but still a distinct and special part of the book. Describing a cuppa with one old fishing mate, “Bob Cooper and I would stop atop this dolerite monolith every time we fished here. Bob would always have his tea the same way – strong and with five spoons of sugar – ‘but don’t stir it as I don’t like it sweet’. That was Bob.”
It’s a sign of a good book when you’ve barely finished it, and you’re already thinking about a second reading. ‘True Confessions…’ is in this class because (a) it’s simply an enjoyable read and (b), there’s a lot going on that I sense will benefit from another look.
Well-presented with a colour cover and lovely chapter-heading illustrations, ‘True Confessions of a Tasmanian Fly Fishing Guide’ is the ideal gift for anyone even half-interested in flyfishing. But be sure to buy one for yourself too.
Available at The Flyfisher
