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Moody Mornings

Sometimes, despite your most honest attempts and optimism, the mission isn’t always a success. Well, not a success in terms of catching fish anyway. Such was the case last weekend at Little Pine Lagoon in Tasmania’s highlands. The weather was moody, we were a little sleepy and it seems that the fish decided have a…

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A New Season Begins

The lead up to opening day for season 2014/15 was pondered, well in advance. Thoughts of flicking a single dry fly in tiny headwater creeks was my preference. In my mind, I envisaged a cold day, a hint of sun occasionally warming the back of my hands and maybe, just maybe, a fish or two…

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Beneath the Ice

iheartthefly’s own travelling trout whisperer, Baz recently wandered into the wilderness during the general closed season for trout. He was probably seeking solitude, searching for prospective honey holes and just generally looking for nothing while hanging out in an awesome environment, at a brutal yet amazing time of year. He couldn’t resist the temptation to…

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Warming up Winter

Fishing in winter, for many, is simply non-existent. Especially with the vast majority of Tasmanian trout waters closed. Even the thought of wetting a line sends some of the hairiest humans into hibernation. I mean, why would you want to leave the warmth of your cosy abode, drive forever dodging nocturnal monsters on frosty roads, only…

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Letting Go

To truly take hold, sometimes one has to let go. It’s quite an amazing feeling really, and likely changes with every angler who commits the act. For some, the act of fishing itself is driven by the need to provide, to gather perhaps. I for one, don’t eat trout so I’m bound to release them.…

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Tense Moments

That period of time, between the moment the fish is hooked until it is landed. Half of the work has been done and perhaps, half the satisfaction achieved. I guess each anglers desires are as diverse as their personalities. For me, the take is very special – knowing that you have fooled the fish with…

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One for the Diggers

As a youngster, I used to get up early for the Anzac Day march every year. In my early teens, I stood around the cenotaph on a couple of occasions, rifle in hand while representing the local cadets, along with my brother. We were always told to wiggle our toes in our boots so we…