Is t in your Blood ?

I have just watched a TV prog, so absorbing I cannot recall what it as about, but the "Hook" that caught my attention was what one of the actors said.... the gist was...
Its like fishing, once you start, its in your blood, you cannot stop, its like an addiction...
well, in my case I have to agree...I have been fishing since I was very young,and I am now 54, even when I was in the Army I took my rods to wherever I was posted, and I have fished in some places to equal anything I have read or seen.... Makes you wonder why You do it, wind, nor snow, nor family problems, nor work , nor finances will ever get in the way of "Goin Fishin"...
any observations on this addiction of ours.

I think some people have addictive personalities, I know I certainly have, I get involved with things and eat sleep and drink them to the deviance of everything else, family work and responsibities. p[eople with addictive personalities are ever complete losers or very successful. other people hoqwever can have an hobby and keep it in prospective along with the rest of their lives. having said that I also believe many successful people are also not addictive. Any addiction, in the real sense is not a good thing.

Monk, got to agree, I remember a post a long time back when I made an observation about Bivvies and the occupants not having a family life, your reply post, and others made me think a bit, and change my views a bit,and realise that every person is different, and that sometimes what we do is to compensate, or even help, with other parts of our lives, I still like goin fishin though...I am a bit of an addict in that respect, long term,it has not done any harm to my career either.. nor any good, but it has helped me put my life in perspective as you say.

The difference that marks an angler from any other joe public is when you look at a water, whether it's a river or lake or canal. They see little ducks, boats on the surface, people walking along, rowers and such like.

As an angler, you see - choice swims, reed beds, slacks and currents, creases, bit's under bushes, everywhere where you think a fish might be. You also see in yoru mind's eye, the fish themselves and how big they are, all feeding in the areas you would select.

I have to agree with you Woody. I've had two other all consuming interest in my life other than my life long fishing interest, caving and riding my horses in the wilds of the Yorkshire Dales. When it was caving every where I went I kept looking for limestone, resurgences' dry gully's that should have been carrying water etc and when ridding I'd look to see if I could plot a route up the fell-side like a climber searching a rock face for the best line. It's how you look at something that gives the game away. Like you said Woody, all Joe Public sees when they look at a water, whether it's a river or lake or canal, are little ducks and boats on the surface etc.
All my life I've dreamt about fishing and constantly return to imaginary places time and time again.

show me a man who cannot cross a bridge without looking into the water to see what's there and i will show you an angler.

go on try it bet you can't do it, you just have to peer over the side i can't even drive over a bridge without having to look side ways and even then i get the urge to stop some where close and go and have a look.

I too have many interests in life, my guitar and my love of steam railways have been significant but angling has cost me dearly mainly because it requires so much time away from the home and work. People who do become addicted to things usually have a psychotic nature, its a form of mental illness, although who is anyone to say what is normal behaviour. Angling hiowever has dominated my life and did so for many years, at times it has acted as a crutch to enable me to espace from responsibility and the pressures of life, a means of finding inner self happiness and utopia, satisfaction and fantasy, karma, living on the bank for many months on end and being part of nature, watching the seasons go by, waking up with wild life and watching the water change and on occassions producing its secrets. The fasination of what lies below the surface, a world of alienation to land dwelling mammals and fasination. Everything else pails into insignificance, while away from the lake all you think about is the next trip out and you mentally plan this time and time again in your head. There is nothing more exciting than packing up the car and locking up the house for a month or so inorder than you can espace the pressures of life and substitue them for the freedom on the bank. the excitments on the twighlight zone when you enter a surrealist world complete with magical sounds and smells as the blanket of darkness encapuslates its surroundings, everything changes at night and an whole new worlds comes alive, an unseen world to many, even the silent night holds its own sounds, feel and smells, one of a large silence or the sounds of traffic homeward bound, a bat staccattos across a moon lit sky, the distant caw of a vixen and the movment of a vole across the lake, the hoot of an owl at the witching hour and the flicker of a diode which brings you to the edge of the bedchair as your heart races and pounds with a great loudness which may wake the dead. Welcome to the obsession which has taken many a young fellow to the divorce courts.

And although I don't do too much of it these days, when I see a wild rabbit, or a pheasant, or a pidgeon, or a couple of mallard flying overhead, I am in my mind's eye either drawing a bead on them, or swinging the shotgun and wondering if I could get a left and right with both barrels.

Its funny how we get obsessed with things, I don`t think I`ve ever been able to look at a women without imagine her naked, does everyone do this or is it just me???

no monk but there are some women who i really rather wouldn't

yes me too Jace but I just can`t remember where she lives at the moment mate?

Even in these days where millions of townies descend on the country at weekends, there are still places that even the most enthusiastic rambler/visitor misses. The river and its environs are completely different for the angler, and so are the some of the pubs and Inns we anglers visit.
This weekend Jim Hinchley and I decide we would visit a very beautiful stretch of the river Ure up in the Yorkshire Dales and see if we could find one or two earlier wild brownies. The day was very sunny and very windy and the fly-fishing was hard work. After a couple of hours with only one fish taken, a 12" plus brownie, I asked Jim if he fancied a pint on me, stupid question really. I know of a pub that I had not visited for years, not one that is out of the way but one, which everyone drives past on there way to the tearooms and bric-a-brac, shops in Hawes. The pub looks like it has been closed for years, except in the window is a hand written notice that says OPEN. There is no car park it's just a lay-by on the opposite side of the road.
Jim had to duck as we entered the pub into what looked like someone's stone floored kitchen with one of those bars everyone in the 60's/70's had built in the corner of their front rooms. In front of the cast iron rang with a very warm log fire lay a new born lamb, that one old guy was trying to resuscitated, I'm afraid for all his efforts this poor little soul wasn't going to make it. Next to the fire was a very large gent dozing in a chair, Jim and I had to share our seat with a little very well rounded man and his very large Springer Spaniel. I'd decide to take this opportunity, out of the wind, to make up a few cast ready for our next session on the river, and while I was doing this the gent dozing next to the fire woke up and it wasn't long before we were all discussing the local fishing, and the state of English cricket etc. I think there is just something about fishing that sits very well with country ways once you get away from the tearooms and bric-a-brac shops.
Off course, not all those who go fishing have it in their blood, but if you have, then you can be sure that other like-minded anglers will recognise it.

You are a lucky man John, you live in a beautiful part of the world mate!

The problem is Monk when you live here you don't notice the changes, the hills are the same, in fact as I type this I can look up Kings Dale and Chepple-le-Dale, and it doesn?t look that much different form 50 years ago. However, when I took the dogs out for a walk this morning, the road down into Ingleton was chocker block, and the bikes, there are hundreds of them especially on a Sunday morning. I'm kidding you not, but the little buttie van patch on Devils Bridge at Kirkby Lonsdale was up for sale not long ago for ?250K.
Very few anglers on the rivers though, it's too hard and a big fish is anything over 1lb and a good day would be three or four fish. The salmon and sea trout don't run in the numbers they use to, but the good side is it really is beautiful country to fish in.

All my life I have not only loved the English countryside, but also the big wide open spaces of Africa, including both the savanna, bushveld and the high mountains.

I count myself very fortunate in having been partly raised on a small North Notts farm, where as a child I grew up with the seasons and the changing colours of the grass and trees.

I knew a little bit of what the Old Africa was like. The freedom of the big open road, the incredible hospitality of an isolated African farmstead and the genuine friendliness of the old tribal peoples.

I remember with fondness an old Zulu "Medala" who shown me how to hold the Shaka short handled spear and how to swing a knobkerrie. These were great people who loved the "Singisi" (English)

It's not like that now, mores the pity.

How did Africa get into this haha